Sometimes things just go your way. Such was the case for The Average Joe last weekend, when a bachelor party trip to Memphis turned into a hell of a good time and a series of prop bet winners with drunk friends and strangers.

Starting with a Saturday night game at Autozone Park to watch the Memphis Redbirds, the AAA affiliate of the St. Louis Cardinals, I got on a roll.  We started with beer bets on what a particular batter was going to do.  I hit on three consecutive bets there, and I didn’t have to pay for a beer until the sixth inning.  By that time, most of the nine guys we had there were getting a little sauced up, and the action heated up as well.  It was a close, low-scoring game throughout, and everybody had a lot of fun. 

For those of you who may find yourself in Memphis for business or an Elvis convention, you really ought to go to a game at Autozone.  T’s only a few years old, and has been touted as the best ballpark in America below the major league level.  Whether or not that’s true, I’m not the one to know, but it is a really nice park.  The beer lines aren’t too long, and the entire concourse is open to the field, so you don’t have to miss any game action. 

I left that beautiful park Saturday night with a belly full of beer, a good buzz and a few extra dollars in my pocket, thanks to the hot streak I was now riding.  Things got better soon thereafter, as I got in front of a TV in time to catch the Tarver-Johnson light heavyweight title bout, which just so happened to be taking place two blocks away at the FedEx Forum, home of the Memphis Grizzlies.  I took Tarver in a decision, and I was right.  It was a good fight, I think.  I say that because I started to wear down midway through.  Not in a tiredness sense, but in a sobriety sense. 

In fact, my friends tell me I spent most of the night stumbling around Beale Street, asking people who went to the fight what they though about the decision.  I remember some of this.  Everybody got their money’s worth (especially since worried promoters were offering 2-for-1 tickets the week before the fight), and most agreed with the unanimous decision.  Beale Street was a lot of fun that night, crowded with people who were high on the excitement a good fight fosters.  Pat O’Brien’s was also filled with pretty girls, and the piano bar was rocking.  Unfortunately, I’m told that I spent the better part of an hour flirting with the middle-aged overweight woman working the graveyard shift at the front desk of our downtown hotel.  I plead the fifth, both amendment and liquor container.

The weekend ended nicely, with a Sunday night AAA game in Nashville pitting the hometown Sounds against the Iowa Cubs and Kerry Wood, making his second rehab start.  The crowd was much bigger than usual to greet the Cubs stalwart, and he pitched fairly well.  Wood struck out four of the first six batters he faced, but did give up a couple of runs before his team lost 3-2 to the current division leaders.

It didn’t feel like a Sunday night.  Legions of jersey-wearing Cubs fans packed the park, making it feel more like a neutral-site game.  A close game with a lively crowd and almost-perfect late-June weather made for a great scene.  It was the perfect end to the weekend.  If only I was able to get the Average Jane to bet with me, I might really have finished well.

Way To Go, Michelin!

At least nobody forfeited or quit at the baseball games I went to.  Folks in Indianapolis can’t say the same about Sunday’s US Grand Prix Formula One race.  As I’m sure you know by now, 14 of the 20 race cars scheduled to race did not start because Michelin told them the tires they were riding on were unsafe for one turn at the track.  Michelin tried to get track officials to build a chicane (basically a speed-reducing series of curves) so their tires wouldn’t inexplicably fall apart in Turn 3, like they did in qualifying for some drivers.  And when F1 officials said no, Michelin had the gall to intimate that it was somehow their fault.

I’m with the racing league on this one.  Michelin sounds like a bunch of crybabies, whining to be helped out because their equipment isn’t good enough.  What do you think would happen if Louisville Slugger asked pitchers to throw softer because too many of their bats were breaking?  Exactly.  That kind of crap doesn’t fly, and Michelin should be apologizing profusely to the teams it services.  Instead of getting defensive, Michelin should be figuring out why their tires fell apart and hoping like hell that teams don’t defect to Bridgestone, whose drivers raced and won at Indy.