"I have a number in mind."



"She's so fine, there's no telling where my money went."

 During the noise and chatter and envy of the World Series, two broken men drank at an empty bar called Mosaic on Washington Ave in St. Louis (http://www.mosaictapas.com/). What I remember about our bartender, Diana,  was that she was very tall, dressed in black wearing a mock turtleneck, like one of Robert Palmer’s music video girls of the 1980s. She was going to Game 6. For free. She secured her chops in gorgeous by answering my question, “Are you six feet tall?” with an easy and confident “Yes.”




"That's my steak, Valance."



This is what broken men do. They close down bars. They ask inane questions of people who are trying to work, people trying to make a living. They talk about all the things they will never do with such conviction that one must assume they are drunk. During the World Series, Dave Sheinin and I were two broken men.


Maybe, I said to Dave, it was time to chuck the whole thing. We've been on the road enough. The business is changing. Our group was dwindling. Danny Graziano now covers football. Jeff Blair is now, an international radio star up in Toronto. Our dinner quorum, once a proud, muscular three to four, is down to two, Sheinin and me, with a possible dash of Amy K. Nelson, herself in transition. We’ve begun to recruit new members into our gastronomic pursuits, as Joe Lemire and Ben Reiter of Sports Illustrated joined us at Bob’s, the formidable Ft. Worth steak house before Game 3 of the World Series, but maybe, just maybe, our time has passed. Check, please.

After all, the number of players I’ve covered from their first day in the big leagues to their last was once zero, and is now growing (Mark Mulder, the possibly retiring Eric Chavez, and Miguel Tejada). Time waits for no man, so perhaps the message being sent while we sat grimly at Mosaic wasn’t how awful the World Series travel was this year, but that the game was up.



Bob's: A fine choice for  a group in transition



I had asked Dave a question early on during the ALCS about why he could so easily switch between Starwood hotels and Marriotts when the accumulation of hotel points, not the pursuit of money or Pulitzer, is the real why we exist. He said calmly, “Well, I’m lifetime platinum at Marriott, so I can be more selective….”

Lifetime platinum? That means top-tier for the rest of your life.


As a loyal member of the Hyatt hotel program, I hadn’t even considered my status with the company. I knew my Hyatt Gold Passport tiers like children knew the alphabet:

1) Gold: Just by signing your name.

2) Platinum: Five stays or 15 nights during the calendar year

3) Diamond: 25 stays or 50 nights during the calendar year



During regular years, I usually reach Diamond status, not by stays, but by night, after night, four night in Cleveland at the Arcade, a week at the Hyatt Newporter, my home away from home at the Grand in San Francisco. What do I get for spending at least 50 nights of my life a year at a Hyatt property, more familiar with the wings and quesadilla than what's in my own cabinets? You get suite upgrades, free internet, guaranteed check-in and a welcome amenity upon check in (usually a bottle of wine or two beers, or juices, and a platter of fruit, antipasti or, if you’re at the Ft. Lauderdale Pier 66, a chicken salad sandwich, oddly), but I had never inquired about lifetime diamond…These elegances, one must convince himself, are worth the nights in St. Louis.



The next morning I called Hyatt Gold Passport, and the lovely representative told my about the grade of the mountain I must climb. Yes, the Hyatt has a Lifetime tier, and yes, she would be happy to tell me the terms and conditions.

1) 10 years of Diamond status. Unlike the Baseball Writers Association of America, where one must serve for 10 consecutive years in order to receive a lifetime vote for the Baseball Hall of Fame, Hyatt does not require its diamond service to be consecutive. Since my first stay at a Hyatt, the Grand Hyatt New York, on April 9, 1998, I was told I’ve already reached my 10-year Diamond Level. Step One, satisfied.



2) 1,000,000 lifetime base Hyatt points.

That's one million lifetime Hyatt points...

I took a quick look at my statement and realized that, with more than 820,000 lifetime points I was not far away…UNTIL, my lovely representative informed me that that 1,000,000 tier must be base points, meaning points only accrued on a dollar-for-dollar basis -- no bonus points or matching or double points allowed.



That means one must spend $1,000,000 at Hyatt hotels to reach Lifetime Diamond status. I was disappointed when I was informed that I am 465,000 base points away from the Diamond summit, which breaks down roughly to eight more years. My lovely representative also informed me that there are, in the history or mankind, only "about 10,000 Lifetime Diamond members." More incentive!

Now, I do have a number in mind...and it's 1,000,000

The next day, as we entered the field at Busch Stadium, I informed Mr. Sheinin that, indeed I had become George Clooney in Up in the Air, that I “had a number in mind” and would not leave the traveling life or the Carpaccio Files until the goal had been met, which meant spending $465,000 over the next several years. I haven’t worked in an office since 1997, and had already calculated that I have spent the equivalent of 1.8 years of my life in Hyatt hotels. The broken man was now reassembled. He had a goal. Dave seemed relieved.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me out here,” he said.

“Nope. I just can’t quit you.”