I was watching a game a couple of weeks ago and it started to hit me. Dallas Braden said “he hit that out to the canal” outside, in reference to a towering home run by some player whose name escapes me.
Canal? Does anybody call it the canal? To me and my friends, it’s always been the Coliseum Moat. That disgusting, filthy, pungent industrial mess of a creek that no one would mistake as “waterfront” of any kind, except maybe the odd duck that thought it was a good idea to hang out there. As I laughed about the Moat, a depression started to set in, like a heavy marine layer on a cool Coliseum night.