Bars, Grills and TVs
In defense of going out to eat, drink and watch sports BY STEVE KETTMANN
I
t was about the last thing I was expecting, spontaneously dropping into the Chili’s sports bar at the east entrance of Capitola Mall. I tend to avoid shopping malls, or when I have to make a stop, I plot a timely escape route, but this visit was different. It felt out of time, one of those odd moments of sudden connection that make you glad to be part of humanity, an unlikely little gem of a memory. All it took was a little sports talk with strangers and I felt a bond, a connection that pulled me back to contours of pre-Covid life that I’d both forgotten and stopped believing could exist. Justin was tending bar, and when he
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found out I was there in the hopes of seeing the Mets pitcher Jacob deGrom, who at the time was in the middle of one of the more remarkable runs in sports of my lifetime, he laid the bad news on me: “No, man, we don’t have it.” I sipped off the top of my big Uncle Dave’s and explained to Justin, almost under my breath, that I just wanted to watch deGrom. Justin shook his head in deep commiseration, and mentioned he was a former college pitcher. We were instantly deep in conversation, like old friends, talking about deGrom’s astonishing run, and on from there. Justin is a particular kind of sports fan, a fan of the game more than just a honk for one team. He grew up a Giants fans and is loyal enough that he could never cheer for the Dodgers—but other than that, he loves good stories and good human drama. I’d moved on to a burger by the time I learned deGrom had pitched three stunning innings – striking out eight of nine – and then left the game with an undisclosed shoulder ailment. “Always better the shoulder than the elbow,” Justin said encouragingly, as he measured out a shot for a group in a booth behind me. I get why some people react to dudes talking sports the way I react to overabundant cologne in a crowded elevator going nowhere. When it hits you the wrong way, you want no part
of it. But you know what? I love sports, and I love talking sports. I’ll say it. I’ll mean it. I’ll stand by the words. I love watching sports for the human stories I see there, and I love talking sports with others who also see them. I constantly look constantly to sports as a lens for how to think about life’s challenges, from the little ones to the great, wobble-your-knees trials. I think of a famous moment where Wilmer Flores, now with the Giants, thought he had been traded from the Mets, and when he came out on infield at Citi Field, the fans could all see him crying. He cared that much. I know Wilmer, and he’s a wonderful guy—down to earth, not in any way stuck on himself. In that moment, his human qualities came through to the fans. He had the courage to let his emotions flow honestly, and the grace to get through the day memorably. My go-to spot for sports in Santa Cruz used to be Seabright Brewery (now Seabright Social). I loved sitting there with friends—including “I Wish I Was Billy Collins” poet Pete McLaughlin— and watching a World Series game. My wife and I used to go to a sports bar on Pacific to watch World Cup—a full-fledged sports-watching spot in Santa Cruz at last, but it didn’t last much longer than Juergen Klinsmann as U.S. national coach. My favorite beer joints, Beer 30 and Discretion, don’t
SANTA CRUZ VISITORS GIUDE | GOODTIMES.SC | 2022
6/22/22 6:01 PM
