Perfect Game

The penultimate post, detailing my final travel days before reaching Nebraska. We try to stay out of Lake Superior and keep a streak alive.

I should like baseball. It has a lot of things that I’m drawn to. The data, the competition, the skill and mastery, the (albeit mild) athleticism. Maybe it’s just the sheer number of games or the slow pace, I’ve just never been able to get into it.

But one thing I’ve always appreciated about it is some of the unwritten etiquette rules, especially about how one behaves when a pitcher is throwing a perfect game.

A perfect game is when a pitcher gets 27 consecutive outs, allowing no batters to reach base. There have been around 245,000 games played in the MLB and just 24 of those were perfect games, so around 1 in every 10,000. It can be lost at any moment by one wild pitch, an error by a fielder, or even a missed call by an umpire. 13 times, heartbreakingly, a pitcher has made it to 26 outs and failed to get the final one. History always hangs tenuously.

Perfect game quests have a fascinating dynamic which is a mixture of etiquette, tradition and superstition. When a perfect game is in progress, one does not mention it. Teammates in the dugout will usually leave the pitcher alone between innings and announcers might not even mention the potential history as it unfolds.

No one wants to jinx it.

Sunday, October 20th, 2019

Beardmore, Ontario, Canada

Route:

It was 2pm by the time I finally hit the road, bidding Ray farewell. The only goal for the day was to get back to the US and maybe try to find some poutine somewhere. Reasonable objectives.

The second of these objectives was achieved at a McDonald’s in Thunder Bay. Not the finest poutine of my journey by any stretch, but perfect for an American with low standards.

I was starting to feel a real sensation of going downhill. Though I was still quite a ways from home, knowing that I was in the home stretch, headed directly towards the finish line flavored everything with a subtle hint of victory.

Getting to the US border almost had me giddy. I found myself apologizing to the nice border officer as I was having a hard time maintaining professionalism amidst my excitement.

Mercifully, I’ll leave you with just the gif above, so you don’t have to hear the new made up song about the USA I was singing as I crossed in. About 40 minutes from the border I returned to the Hungry Hippie Hostel, where I got a cheap bed in the bunkhouse. The $25 cost would be the final lodging charge of the journey, leaving our full trip average at $4.33/night. Thanks to the multitude of you who helped mitigate this expense category. 🙂

Monday, October 21st, 2019

Another perfect day on the road!

Route:

It was cold, rainy, windy; so I was in no hurry to get going. The wind was whipping off of Lake Superior and I knew it would be a tough day of riding.

The wind was perfect though, slightly behind me and pushing me into the ditch rather than oncoming traffic, and knowing I was mere days from the finish line helped keep me warm.

Still, this was probably only my second most miserable trip down this road, as that honor would go to Grandma’s Marathon in 2015.

After leaving the lake at Duluth, the storms were still strong.

Even with rain gear, it was one of those impossible days to stay dry.

Thankfully, I had the perfect family waiting for me in Lakeville, MN, which is just outside the Twin Cities. I arrived a sopping wet mess, but was soon being treated to their warm (dry?) hospitality.

This stop made my Uncle Rol and Aunt Karen two-time hosts, as I’d also stopped with them in 2017 (THIS POST) while I was getting Chaska checked off. I also got some quality time with my cousins, Christopher and Sarah, and her husband, Russ.

Tuesday, October 22nd, 2019

I was in a big hurry to get home, but I decided to take another family day before carrying on. I had really pushed hard to get across the continent and up to Ombabika. A day to relax was perfectly what I needed.

A bonus of being hosted a second time was that I could now get some signatures I had missed before the tradition had begun.The contrast between Chapter 1 Annie and Current Annie is stark.

It also makes me wonder how much more grizzled I, myself, look after these years on the road. 😬

Wednesday, October 23rd, 2019

Route:

Penultimate day! I’d be getting within spitting distance of my home state on this day and also making a fun connection. It was a chilly, gray day, but in comparison to the squalls along Lake Superior, it was perfect conditions.

I described my multiple intersections with Mike, my fellow Everywhereican, in THIS POST. The first of these would be happening this day.

It can be tough to coordinate connections when both parties are travelling. A useful travel hack is to just agree to meet at the Jolly Green Giant statue in Blue Earth, MN. Very unambiguous, so it’s the perfect spot.

I got his name on Annie and we coordinated a meet up in Nebraska for the following week. 

I rolled along I-90 to Sioux Falls, where I arrived at the home of the final hosts of my journey, Matt and Megan (front left below)

Fellow endurance athletes were the perfect hosts for my final night on the road. We’ve been friends since college and have done lots of races together over the years.

It felt homey to be back within the geographical anomaly where the best pizza comes from a gas station and the best Chinese food comes from a grocery store. Their treat of Hy-Vee Chinese included the perfect fortune, forecasting my finish line day in Lincoln:

We had a great time catching up. We took care of signatures and photos in the evening, as they had work in the morning.

Thursday, October 24th, 2019

I had some quality time with their dogs in the morning before packing up.

My front tire was a bit low, so I got out the little compressor that I’ve had since the South America loop. As I only had a single flat during the journey (THIS POST) which was unpluggable, this device never actually saved my bacon. However, it was a consistent companion and allowed me to adjust my pressure to match the terrain at any time.

As it began to buzz to life this morning, it sputtered, then expelled its final breath. It had run the perfect race.

I wrapped its cord and placed it in its bag, with more sense of ceremony than usual. Well done.

Today was Nebraska Day. I had purposefully left it unchecked from my sign. I was mere miles from the end of my road.

On one of these nights I had a conversation with Wyoming George. Offhand, he asked me how many times I had been pulled over by the police during my journey. I gave a cryptic non-answer, asking if he was familiar with baseball’s perfect game tradition. I was NOT about to jinx my perfect game with one out to go! Indeed, the trip ended with never being pulled over (no, we don’t count that shakedown in Peru [HERE]).

This, like so many other indicators, makes me feel that my journey truly took the perfect path. Was it a path with no discomfort or hardship? No! But it seemed optimized to grow and challenge me. As I look ahead to what comes next, it’s these paths….not the smooth, uneventful ones…where I hope my journey leads.

Keep ignoring the pitcher, everybody.

BA