Bernie Williams was in town last weekend. It was Father’s Day, and TV Stevie wanted to go to the ballpark to see him. Well, hear him. You see, Bernie is now a professional musician. His CDs have been nominated for Latin Grammy Awards. And Bernie was scheduled to play the national anthem on guitar. So we went to the game. I hadn’t been to a game all season. It was nice to be back, although we couldn’t get our old seats (we were season ticket holders for three years, and I wrote a blog with the woman in the seats next to us: From Section 207). Still we did sit in 207 and got to chat with our former neighbors.
And we got to see and hear Bernie.
We left the game early (me with a nice sunburn), grabbed take out from a local Italian restaurant, then went downtown to hear Bernie in concert.
No, I did not take photos during the concert. I am under the impression that to do so is illegal. Too bad the jerk in front of me didn’t care. Every time he turned on his camera to record Bernie, he blinded me. So I would kick the back of his seat. Childish, I know, but he was completely rude and completely oblivious.
The concert was nice. Bernie is incredible on the guitar. I never knew he actually went to a performing arts high school in Puerto Rico–studying music.
But . . . there’s always a but, isn’t there?
I am not a fan of big, brassy music. I know many people who are huge Chicago (the band) fans. I am not one of them. And Bernie’s band had a lot of brass, soprano sax, etc. After a while, the music all started sounding alike to me. To me. That is not a criticism of the performances. The musicians were all amazing. The band leader/saxophonist was indescribable, especially on the alto sax. The style of music just isn’t my cuppa.
But hey! I got to see Bernie Williams in concert, and baseball fan that I am, that’s enough.