Wade Miller et al in Round Rock

“Welcome to the Rock,” Sean Connery’s voice says wryly over the loudspeakers at Dell Diamond in Round Rock, Texas. I can’t help but think that the twisted amusement his character John Mason had in delivering the line in The Rock is rather fitting. After all, I just braved well over an hour-fifteen of traffic to go 20 miles north and east of Austin to sit in the Texas heat. Judging by the sparse crowd, this is not common sense. While Dell Diamond is certainly not Alcatraz -- it’s actually kind of nice, albeit inconvenient -- it’s not exactly a popular spot either, at least not on a weeknight in August. There could not be more than 1,000 people in the crowd for this AAA game between the Express and the Iowa Cubs.

I take a sip of Shiner Bock. It’s odd, I think, that this is the second time I’ve heard Connery’s line already this week, after several years without hearing it once. My brother stopped at the movie on HBO the other morning before we drove down to Houston for the Cubs / Astros game. Like the other day, tonight my thoughts turn backwards to my senior year of college, and the first time I kissed a particular girl. While we barely notice, the DVD menu montage goes around and around at 45 second intervals, each time concluding with Connery’s line. I kind of liked that girl, I think, but then it’s gone. There’s a baseball game starting, and she’s a thousand miles away.

I’m kind of thoughtful tonight, I must admit. It’s a lot of things. I bought my law school textbooks this morning, and the imminence they signal is looming. I watched Ryan O’Malley blank the Astros, completing what has to be the Cubs finest series of the season -- three wins in a row with guts. Meanwhile I constantly debate in a corner of my head whether I want to tinker with “Just Drive South,” or leave it be -- 73,900 words that sometimes I want to just throw in a ditch, even now after so much time writing and editing, except that there are other times I know the words can stand up.

I dwell on O’Malley a moment. Sometimes the narrative that is the Cubs season unfolds in unexpected ways, that’s for sure, and we can’t help but feel somewhat privileged to know that we just witnessed a nearly perfect moment for the rookie when Howry threw to first to record the last out. No matter what happens in his career, or life, O’Malley has experienced this euphoric instant with purity. I hope it’s not the last -- a World Series win would be awful nice -- but no matter what, this will be part of his career. Yep, with the 18 inning win and Zambrano’s shutout this was a good series in a bad season, and in particular a start like O’Malley’s lessens the season’s sting, at least for me.

The game begins, and before we know it Felix Pie has hit a surprising homerun to left field, his opposite field. Sitting three rows up from the Express Dugout on the third base side, I watch the ball sail much farther than I thought it would off the bat. It was surprising in that it wasn’t a homerun kind of swing; he sort of went down and flicked it. But the swing was fluid, and Pie has surprising power. Maybe that’s why there’s all this hype on the kid, I realize.

Freddie (Boom-Boom) Bynum is up next, and promptly strikes out. Sorry Mister Kotter. His bat looks slow. Later in the inning, Mike Restovich is thrown out at home. A better slide and he’d have been safe, because the throw was up the first base line a little bit, but I guess they don’t work on creative slides until you get to the big leagues. Still, the I-Cubs have scored a pair right off the bat.

Wade Miller is pitching, the main reason I’ve driven up for tonight’s game. This is intended to be his last minor league rehab outing, and I want to see whether he’s ready. Well, besides wanting to watch a very good pitcher pitch. After all, he’s had success already in his career, maybe more than some Cub fans realize. Other than going 0-1 in one start in 1999, he’s never had a season below .500 in wins/losses, and went 31-12 with an ERA of about 3.30 over two seasons from 2001-2002 with the Astros, with a strikeout-to-walk ratio around 2.5 to 1. Those are numbers that suggest it’s worth taking a chance on the guy’s shoulder recovery.

Joe McEwing, the second batter, crushes a ball into the few rows of seats hanging above the berm in left field. Miller’s fastball is topping out around 85 to 86mph on the stadium radar reading, and McEwing took advantage. Miller’s going to have to hit his spots, I realize.

For the most part, he does hit his spots. He does not walk anyone after the first inning, and strikes out 7. For a guy without his regular -- or should I say former? -- fastball, that’s not bad. McEwing takes him deep again in the fifth, but it was more of a cheap one, a fly ball that happened to carry just over the short fence in the left field corner. Other than his velocity being down, he’s pitching well. And it sure would be nice to get a pitcher in the Cubs rotation who doesn’t walk so many batters.

Meanwhile, the girl sitting three rows in front of me -- the two rows between us being entirely empty -- continues to sign autographs and take pictures with fans. A woman tells her how much she and her daughter love watching the girl pitch. A little boy gives her the hook-em horns sign and yell, and she smiles. It’s Cat Osterman, I learn from the girls sitting behind me, the softball pitcher for Texas with the miniscule ERA and an Olympic gold medal with Team USA. (Around here, it’s acceptable to list her affiliations in that order.) Earlier in the week, my brother had told me that if she was still pitching for Texas, I should go to see a game just to see her pitch, that she’s that good. What’s with all this synchronicity? She’s graduated though, besides which I can’t imagine going to a softball game anyway if I’m being honest, but still, it’s cool to see her hanging out with her friends and boyfriend, taking in a ballgame.

It’s fun to see Augie Ojeda as well, a player whose hustle I always liked, although it seems less and less likely he’ll ever be more than a 40-man callup. My man TK wants me to keep an eye on Restovich for him, and Mike goes 1 for 4, his only hit the one erased at home in the first. Buck Coats surprises me with his arm, though, throwing out Brooks Conrad at second on what I was certain would be an easy double, and later throwing a strike to the plate to keep a runner at third. I look over the stat sheet as I wonder whether he could be big-league material, and see that his power numbers are down for a right-fielder. Oh well.

In the later innings, I pay attention most to Felix Pie. The kid can certainly hit. Centerfield, however, still seems to be something of a puzzle for him. He broke in slow on a ball that should have been an easy catch, I thought, and biffed it as he slid under it. Later, he broke in for a second on a ball over his head; he made the catch, but it’s never a good sign when a centerfielder breaks in by instinct on a ball hit that hard. Plus, his arm’s just as weak as Pierre’s. I decide that he’s not ready for the show just yet, and I’m even more convinced that Pierre is the guy the Cubs must keep in center.

There’s nighttime construction on the drive home, I-35 down to one lane. Hell. At least Wendy Colonna is on the radio. There's a lot of buzz on her this week all of a sudden, I notice, as she gears up to record a live CD headlining at Antone’s. I’ll be there -- wouldn’t miss it. It’s been a fun night, but it’s time to get back to what Austin does best in these last few weeks of summer, before this chapter ends.