We've learned the hard way that boutique hotel does not always equal luxury hotel. Don't be sucked in by a fancy lobby and a ritzy bar -- it doesn't mean your room will be up to par. When we're looking for luxury in an intimate setting, we head up the mountain to Sanctuary, which offers a great view of the Praying Monk and makes the most of its location with a hilly climb (or golf cart ride) up to a beautiful casita, where you'll find more gorgeous views and a setting hip enough for Paris Hilton. The restaurant, elements, is lovely, and the spa offers delights like an in-room Swedish or Thai massage.
Now this is boutique-ing at its best!
The only thing that keeps us away from a poker table is our serious and committed relationship with money. (Well, that and a large man with a concealed weapons permit who
really hates losing.) Lucky for us, we found the Horse & Hound on a Saturday night, where two free poker tournaments -- run by the Nationwide Poker Tour (www.pokerplayersinc.com) -- start at 7 and 10 p.m. with at least a half-dozen tables of Texas Hold 'Em open to anyone who signs up.
What's the point of playing poker without money involved? Actually, there is none. While it doesn't cost a thing to play at the Horse & Hound (unless you take in the happy hour specials that offer a dozen wings for $3 and $2.25 well drinks), it does pay to win. Folks who make it to the final table earn points toward a paid seat in monthly cash tournaments at Las Vegas' Bellagio and, ultimately, a $10,000 spot in the annual World Series of Poker. Just be careful with those pocket jacks in your hand at the H&H: Because it ain't real money, your fellow wanna-be World Series champs have been known to call your "all-in" with an off-suit 7-2 (statistically, the worst starting hand in Hold 'Em), and score a full boat on the river. Sure, you're out, but at least you're not down.
Other casinos might throw a gimmick or two your way to get you through the door for a poker tournament, but none offers the action you'll find at Talking Stick, home to the best cash players in the Valley.
With 45 tables of nonstop poker (most tables offer Texas Hold 'Em, but you'll also find Omaha and seven-card stud), you're still bound to wait 20 minutes to get a seat. If you're learning and aren't willing to lose this month's mortgage, play a 3-6 table (that's $3 for an opening bet with a $6 raise to start per hand).
Or if you're looking to brush up on your skills before heading to Vegas for the next World Series of Poker, take your chances at the 75-150 table, the casino's highest limit. Talking Stick also hosts morning and evening tournaments Monday through Friday, with buy-ins from $60 to $130, and first-prize payouts as big as $5,500. But get in on those tournaments early; they're usually limited to the first 120 who register, and they sell out quickly.
For Valley urbanites who think dog tracks like Turf Paradise are just too doggone far away, there's an abundance of off-track-betting sites scattered across our sprawl. These havens for bombastic betting behavior are usually found inside assorted sports bars and taverns and allow wagering on races at numerous dog and horse tracks both locally and around the nation, with remote video feeds of all the action. Gallagher's bar and restaurant, located in north Phoenix, is particularly entertaining, as wager-friendly folk from all walks of life gather in an expansive, smoke-filled side room. Gambling-prone grannies edge their walkers close to the wall filled with video screens, while thirtysomething tweaker types howl desperately for certain pooch es to place first, until the long shots finish back in the pack and bet tickets are torn up in disgust.
By the end of the night, broken peanut shells, torn-up tickets and shattered dreams litter the floor, as a few holdouts remain to sample one of Gallagher's particularly delectable desserts, consisting of a mound of ice cream covered with fudge on top of a just-baked chocolate chip cookie. It's tasty and helps take the edge off the realization that you just blew your rent money on some dog-and-pony show.
Take a break from the strip malls, the freeways, the dog eat dog of the real world, and break for the ponies. Few things in life are as satisfying as leaning against the fence at the finish line, nursing a drink and looking left to catch the first glimpse of the pack coming home. If your horse finishes out of the money, no big deal. There's always the next race -- and plenty of beer. Anyway, gambling isn't the point. It's the fresh air, the scent of the stables, the tight jeans the escort riders wear as they guide the thoroughbreds to the gate. There's enough superstition in the air to fill 10 Bank One Ballparks. Dare you wager on a pony called U R Toast, or is Notanotherskidmark the safer choice?
Sometimes college students need to just let loose, get a little crazy and occasionally get escorted out of a building after a bit of debauchery. Spending your nights on Mill Avenue can get old. The real place to catch raucous 18- to 22-year-olds mid-shenanigans is at Wal-Mart. By midnight, at least 10 people will be running, yelling and climbing over displays in a heated game of hide-and-seek. Letting off steam by acting like a 6-year-old must work, because larger games of 20 to 40 players are orchestrated monthly at MySpace.com. The hide-and-seek activity at the Mesa Wal-Mart peaked a few months ago, but there's nothing stopping you from getting on MySpace.com and starting a fresh game. After all, when was the last time you were kicked out of anywhere for playing hide-and-seek? Unlike when you were a kid, your mom won't be there to be embarrassed by you.
Face it: Steak houses can be pretty bland. The menu of most typical wood-paneled, sawdust-on-the-floor family restaurants can easily be replicated on the grill at home if you know your way around a kitchen. But throw in a giant steel slide that propels you into the dining room at relatively scary velocities, and you've got Rustler's Rooste. The designer of the two-story building with a lounge on top and dining below decided a slide leading from the entrance through a mine shaft to the banquet room beneath was the only way to go. Okay, so there's a staircase for those not adventurous enough to coast to their dining table, but we of course suggest the ride. Maybe we're incurably 10 years old, but we love this little bit of playground mayhem at the start of any meal.
It's late on a Saturday night in the PHX. You've just downed a dozen Seven and Sevens at the strip club Band Aids. There's a $20 bill left in your wallet, and before you know it, you're rollin' down Van Buren, checking the ho stroll for a 10-minute GFE (Girl Friend Experience). Don't do it, bro! Sure, you might have an industrial-strength, steel-reinforced condom on hand, but them chicas -- if they really are chicas -- have got diseases that'll eat their way through concrete.
Better to save the Jackson, cruise home and pop in that DVD you copped from Phoenix photographer Lokey, titled Hookers . . . on Van Buren. Set to the soundtrack of the movie Superfly, Lokey's stills were snapped from a moving car after shouting "Hey, Baby," to workin' girls on the street. Under the glare of Lokey's unforgiving flash are many, many hella-scary-lookin' ladies of the night, none of whom you'd want to get with in the light of day and fully sober.
Most frightening, perhaps, is the fact that at one point, the best-lookin' puta of the lot flashes his/her penis for Lokey's camera. Cue Aerosmith's "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)." Now, aren't you glad you didn't get played as a trick for the evening?
Shhh! Don't tell. The other night we went for a little spin while seriously soused. With our bloodstream filled with more booze than John Q. Law permits, we hopped into a souped-up streetcar and set out broadsiding Caddies and crashing through cinderblocks on a private path of destruction. Don't fret; you're not going to be seeing our mugs on the local news anytime soon. Why? This bout of vehicular violence was contained within the aptly named Smashing Drive, one of numerous driving games available for playing after getting pissed at GameWorks' Arena Bar, located upstairs at the mega-arcade and nightspot. Gulp some of the watering hole's premium spirits, gourmet beers, or signature drinks -- like the delicious honeydew martini or the 40-ounce Megarita -- before getting behind the wheel of racers like Outrun 2 SP, Ferrari F355 Challenge, Motocross Go!, or Crazy Taxi to see how much inebriation affects gaming performance. We guarantee you'll be driving under the influence -- of fun, that is.
There are few breathtaking views in town to be had as easily as the one from Echo Canyon. Around here, getting high enough up a mountain to get a panoramic view tends to involve hiking for miles, purchasing a $12 cocktail, or even finding a sugar daddy. (How else are you going to buy that manse in Paradise Valley, real estate being what it is?) But this perfect little spot alongside Camelback Mountain does the trick for free. If you can walk a quarter-mile, you're at the summit. And what a vista! The only catch: You're not the only one who can't find a sugar daddy, and so parking is limited. On weekends, expect to find a line of cars waiting for a space.
The palm trees that stand dramatically at attention along the entrance to this posh resort should give you some clue: Nothing about this place is going to be subtle. Or even
quietly luxurious (except perhaps in the meditation room of the spa). The Phoenician is shiny and rich, a paean to the joys of having money. Its premier restaurant, the elegant Mary Elaine's, even boasts murals hand-painted in 24K gold.
You can't deny that the place is striking, the food is good, and the service is excellent. And even if you just stop by for a $12 cocktail (we recommend the Phoenix -- Grey Goose L'Orange, grenadine and lime juice), we can guarantee that you'll find flaunting it is much more fun than saving it for a rainy day.
With an $8 million overhaul, the main tower of the Francisco Grande Resort has been returned to its swingin' modernist splendor, circa 1961. Once the haunt of the likes of John Wayne and Willie Mays, Francisco Grande, about 40 miles south of Phoenix, went through several decades of slow decay before its recent restoration.
It was a structure worth saving. There are few places in the West where you can so thoroughly dive into the architecture and decor and high-flying resort sensibilities of the swanky '60s. Heck, get a penthouse suite and drive down with a group of friends and a trunk full of martini fixings, cocktail wear and '60s hipster albums. It will be the party of a lifetime. One caveat: Make sure you get a room in the renovated tower. The courtyard rooms have not been updated. Rooms, even with a round of golf, can be had for less than $100.
The Valley's own Four Seasons is perhaps best known for its location, snuggled up against Pinnacle Peak, with beautiful views of the landscape, the perfect home base for a serious hike. But if you're serious about relaxing, this is also the place for you. We recently checked in and checked out -- that is, passed out, in a king-size bed in our beautifully decorated (read: no pinks and blues, just subtle whites and browns) room, shutters closed against the beating sun. We held tight to the remote control and slid around the bed, finally understanding what everyone's talking about when they mention high-thread-count sheets. The honor bar was stocked with everything from Diet Coke to Dean & Deluca goodies, and the bathroom products were all by L'Occitane en Provence.
In the morning, we ate a continental breakfast truly fit for someone on any continent, and washed off the sticky pecan rolls in the enormous bathtub, then tried out the glass shower, just for fun.
We requested a late checkout (granted) and finally emerged, blinking, into the hot sun. At the same time, another couple reluctantly left their room. Before she got in the car, the woman gave a wistful little wave and said, "Bye, room!"
She must have liked it, too.
Every year, we try new spas in this town (it's hard to keep up with the craze), and every year, we rush back to the comforts of the spa at the Camelback Inn. From the thick white robes to the cushy pool chaises, we're relaxed and happy, sipping the spa's signature tea, swiping on its own special lotion. We've never had a better pedicure in this town, nor a better hot rock massage, and the recent remodel is holding up nicely, with a beautiful sauna and Jacuzzi area.
We ate by the pool on a recent visit, and particularly enjoyed the Two Twists Gazpacho, featuring a golden tomato blend next to a mix of Granny Smith apple/cucumber. Then we slipped into the pool and relaxed the afternoon away -- until our next appointment.
Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.
The male staffers -- excuse us, "experience coordinators" -- at the five-diamond Fairmont's elegant Willow Stream spa are pleased as prickly pear punch when another guy shows up to check out the 44,000-square-foot multilevel pampering place. Willow Stream was recently essayed in the New York Times as one of the West's foremost examples of the new male-friendly resort spa, and the proof is in the upscale handyman details: cool, polished stone borders running through the hallways; trendy Venetian finish on one wall; and dry-stacked Sedona sandstone bricks lining most of the others. Heck, there's even a small TV screen on each of the Lifecycles. Willow Stream is paradise for women, too, but it's the men who love touches like the waterfall-lined stairwell leading down from the negative-edge rooftop pool to the centerpiece hot tub that's warmed by triple cascades of falling water, each set at its own distinct water pressure. More spa power!
The best resort pools are the wet dreams you can still sneak into without springing for a room card key; where a casual flip of a wrought-iron fence latch and a confident "been here since Thursday" attitude is enough to keep security from tapping you on the shoulder, even if you have just wandered in from your sun-baked Honda. In that regard, the rambling, two-and-a-half-acre water playground at the Scottsdale Hyatt Regency is just old enough to allow access without passing through a Homeland Security-like system, dabbled with a dizzying array of pools, puddles, Jacuzzis and waterfall springs to keep you hopping without arousing attention. For 10 bucks apiece, a couple can even cap off the day with a romantic sunset gondola ride around the lagoon circling the pools, serenaded by a friendly guide versed in Italian opera who won't bother to ask you what room you're staying in.
Sipping chilled martinis poolside, draped across a whitewashed deck chair, the breezy air whispering over you as beads of sweat gather beneath the rim of a shady sun hat, you stir. Squint a little and, because you're at the San Carlos Hotel, you can almost imagine Mae West basking beside you. Given a time machine and a little luck, this scene might be possible, because this historic downtown landmark once attracted poolside visits from famous folks like West and Cary Grant. The pool, three stories in the air, is as past-era perfect as the hotel itself, which features celebrity suites named for the legends who once slept in them. A night's snooze starts at $115 and, while prices vary with the season, a dip in this historically glamorous swimming hole is always gratis.
If knocking down 3,000 meters an hour sounds like fun, then this is the pool where you'll want to do your flip turns. The outdoor facility features a very fast eight-lane, 50-meter Olympic pool that is 25 yards wide, allowing for both short-course and long-course training. The six-foot-deep pool is equipped with wave-absorbing gutters that keep the water smooth as glass. And did we mention that that water is always crystal clear?
Named after the late Mona Plummer, who coached the ASU women's swim team to greatness in the 1960s, '70s and '80s, the facility also features a world-class diving pool with one-meter and three-meter springboards and five-meter, seven-and-a-half-meter and 10-meter diving platforms.
Mona Plummer is home to Sun Devil Aquatics, an age-group swimming team. It also hosts an age-group water polo club, a competitive diving program, and Sun Devil Masters, a competitive swimming program for adults. Swimmers, take your mark . . .
Here in the Best of Phoenix, we won't tell you where to get a boob job or a nose job; we don't even want to recommend our favorite tattoo artist. And we certainly won't tell you where to board your best friend, man. But we do feel comfortable saying that Applewood Pet Resort has the coolest pool around -- 30 feet long and shaped like a giant dog biscuit. The
très chic swimming hole features a water fountain, aerating sprays, and even a doggy deep end for larger (or more daring) breeds.
We just have one more thing to say: Hot dog!
A dog's version of the Holy Grail, or should we say Growl, this greenbelt oasis provides canines of all shapes and sizes a sweet outdoor locale to sniff and be sniffed. At sunrise and sunset, the pups (and, alas, their owners) convene on what sometimes serves as a soccer field for the daily meet and greet. Miss Jack Russell terrier, I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Great Dane. And you over there, Ms. Boxer. This is your distant cousin, Mrs. Pug. Sniff, sniff. The City of Phoenix keeps a box filled with plastic garbage bags and a little scooper to keep things civilized. For dogs, this space is the cat's meow.
Located next to the Foothills Library parking lot, this gated, "leash-optional" dog park draws people and pups of every persuasion, and it's not unusual to see Great Danes and dachshunds romping together. The park includes ramps, a watering area, and random toys scattered throughout the grass, so the dogs can let loose while their owners socialize (you didn't think that huge guy with the adorable little pug was there just to scoop up poop, did you?). Of course, there are some rules: no more than three dogs per owner each visit, no children under age 13 without an adult, and the park closes at 10 p.m.
We're fashionable folk, but even we need to dress up to visit Tempe's favorite dog park. The leash-free zone is a hipster haven. These scenesters may look pissed off when you see them at a coffee shop or an art gallery, but they are still good mommies and daddies to their cute wittle puppies. Make no mistake: Taking the pup out to socialize and play doesn't mean compromising these twentysomethings' style. Frisbee attire includes heels, hats and asymmetrical skirts. Makeup is a must. A few chic dog lovers can handle the early morning, despite a late night at Hot Pink!, but even at 6 a.m., eyeliner is a must.
The dogs don't seem to care either way. If you're looking for some hot bitches, check this park.
Horizon Park is small -- just two-thirds of an acre -- compared to other Valley dog parks, but what it lacks in space, it makes up in amenities (this is north Scottsdale, after all). You and Bowser will find a large, shaded area, as well as a special dust-control feature that allows you -- with the push of a button -- to minimize the inevitable dog park haze with a squirt of water. Bowser will never have to worry about an asthma attack at the park again!
We should really give this puppy hangout "Best Name for a Dog Park" because we bet if there are any quail in the vicinity, they certainly do run fast, to escape Rover. The off-leash doggy portion of this Mesa park is more than three acres, completely fenced and featuring benches, water fountains for both dogs and humans, and poop bags (sorry, those are just intended for the dogs). Check the city's Web site for hours, as they may have changed, vis-à-vis maintenance. Quail, we suggest you stay home.
A surprisingly big city park at the intersection of Central Avenue and Indian School Road, four-year-old Steele Indian School Park has a little something for everyone: swings for the kids, a lake with trout and bass for anglers, and a very cool spiral of a garden for quiet reflection.
But the best part of the park has got to be its legacy: From 1891 to 1990, it held a boarding school for Native American kids (hence the name), the main buildings of which are still on site today. While the buildings are waiting for restoration funds to turn them into a Native American cultural center and museum, the city has done an excellent job putting up historical information for people who are interested. Ambling from the covered bridge to the old buildings, you'll get a good sense of what life was like in the school just by reading the placards. Think of it as a free museum -- that just happens to have swings, too.
If you're unfamiliar with the quasi-sport of ice blocking -- the act of locating a steep hill, plopping your bum down on a big block of ice and getting a push from a friend in order to bobsled silly down a grassy hill -- you really haven't lived. Or maybe you are actually sane.
Epic ice-blocking opportunities are aplenty at Gilbert's 100-acre Freestone Park. For an evening of slip-sliding adventure, wander down toward the west end of the park. There you will find hills of varying grades and skill levels for both the newbie desert bobsledder and the technically skilled Olympian-in-training.
Ice is available at your local Circle K.
Wouldn't you know it? Turn your back for one minute, and some mysterious bicycle bandit has snatched the phat beach cruiser you use to get around town. Looks like you're gonna have to beat feet down to Domenic Malvestuto's Mill Avenue bike business to score a new ride. Willing to drop a couple Gs? The helpful staff of cycle psychos might recommend choosing from their assortment of high-end two-wheelers like the Trek Madone 5.9 ($4,500), Orbea Orca ($3,999), or the Cannondale Optimo R-1000 ($1,800).
More salt-of-the-earth pedal pushers can also peruse the collection of more affordably priced used bikes out back, available for less than a C-note. And if you're only interested in souping up your Schwinn or customizing your Colnago, the shop has a vast selection of nearly every type of bicycle accessory imaginable, from pedometers and CO2 inflators to freewheel removers and crotch-hugging apparel for both men and women. Just remember to buy a lock this time.
Pulse, which this summer celebrated its first anniversary in what owner Erik Beckmann predicts will be the Valley's next extreme-sports mecca -- Goodyear ("It's blowin' up out here!" he says) -- strikes the perfect medium between the hard-core street cred of Cowtown and the board-park mom friendliness of the industrial mall shops.
"I like to say, 'We put the core in corporate,'" quips Beckmann, an old-school skater himself, who welcomes the skate punks to hang out and watch the latest rad DVDs but doesn't invite them to veg by nixing the couch and lounge area in favor of a girl-friendly fashion section. His shop, featuring all the requisite pro boards and his own budget Pabst-label-aping Pulse line, also boasts the coolest dressing room in town: a huge corrugated steel tube outfitted with a door and hangers by Beckmann's handyman dad. Tubular!
The city's outdoor skate parks have become a battlefield of sorts between young and old skateboarders and even BMX bike riders, who all want to claim the turf as their own. One thing they all seem in agreement on is that the sprawling concrete playground occupying a corner of the Snedigar Sportsplex in Chandler, just south of the Bashas' headquarters in a largely agricultural section of town, has the best variety of bowls, jumps, dips and flips to please anyone on wheels. Veteran boarders may cringe at the sight of all the helmeted, knee-padded grade-schoolers who typically rule the pools, but the overall atmosphere is big-brotherish, with the big kids in baseball caps high-fiving the little ones in bright orange Vigor helmets and offering tips to keep them from tumbling in their paths -- a setup that benefits old and new skaters alike.
While Tempe's city government was very late to acknowledge its local skating scene, it delivered a winner with this new park, which opened in February. Area skaters are raving about the street-oriented course, saying it is by far the best in the state. Spread across 26,000 square feet, the well-lighted concrete park is attracting the top skaters in the region on a regular basis.
And no wonder: The park has various shapes and sizes of rails, ledges and stairs to give skaters a true street experience, as well as a large bowl with a pyramid and a cool vert wall and pool coping. A word of warning: Too bad Tempe didn't set up shade screens, because the place roasts in the summer. No pads are required here, and water and restrooms are available on site.
Skateboarding might not be a crime, but those damn punks seem to always find ways to get busted. Thankfully, Phoenix has the state's only indoor park at Metrocenter, where kids can skate 40 hours a week for less than the cost of a trespassing citation. To shred through Phoenix Skatepark's 36,000 square feet of pipes, bowls and street courses -- not to mention the rails and ledges -- kids can skate for four solid hours for $10, eight hours for $12, or spend $25 to skate for the whole week inside an air-conditioned facility that requires those under 18 to wear a helmet and pads at all times -- and keeps the cops at bay.
Many of the Valley's outdoor paintball parks look like glorified junkyards, littered with precisely the kind of old industrial waste barrels and weathered wooden fortresses your mother would've warned you not to play on -- which, of course, is part of the appeal. But at Westworld's indoor Xtreme Pursuit, a cavernous warehouse stuck in the shadow of the Grand Avenue overpass on West Camelback Road, the two fields are stocked with tournament-quality inflatable cylinders, cones, and "tombstones" made of the same vulcanized material used in heavy-duty river rafts. The refs can be cool or cruel, depending on their attitude of the day, but most are well-trained in airgun repair -- a plus -- and can fix a jammed cocker, impy or timmy faster than your opponents can reload their paint. Hard-core ballers, who universally praise the fully stocked pro shop, may bemoan the family-friendly facility's overabundance of youngsters and noobs. But hey, that just gives you more easy targets to practice on.
The dedicated pay-to-spray parks around the city all offer their own unique charms, bunkers and hiding spots. But these days the serious splatter-junkies stock up on their own paintball guns, paint, air and wear, and head out north of Phoenix on Cave Creek Road until just beyond the canal overpass, where a winding ride on a bumpy dirt path takes you to a somewhat forbidden (the paved stretch of Jomax is usually gated closed by highway patrollers) outdoor paradise for go-carters, ATV-ers, remote-control model-plane enthusiasts and, lately, paintballers. Here, amid nature's peerless assortment of rocks, hills, cactuses and the occasional manmade tire fortress, outlaw paintballers create their own version of the painted desert on a weekend basis. Just keep an eye out for Smokey.
The operative word here is "monthly." While there are a few ringers and rabid pinheads lurking about with their death-head balls and pro-style gear, the demographic of this nifty league tends toward amateur to midlevel bowlers with little time to spare. (Speaking of sparing, we recently witnessed a lanky young lady heft an air ball halfway down the lane, where it landed with a thunderous crack and somehow proceeded to take out the remaining three pins in her second frame. She clapped her hands and screamed with delight. We winced.)
The SNL season runs from September through July on the second Saturday of each month, with a "sweeps" contest in the August slot. Practice starts at approximately 6:45 p.m., and live balls roll at 7. Each team has four members, and one must be female. The cost is $26 per person up-front to cover the first and last weeks, $13 for each month thereafter (not counting the cost of shoe rental and other incidentals).
The SNL atmosphere is loose and fun, with much more camaraderie and friendly competition than you'll find in a weekly league. And -- most important -- the beer's cold and cheap.
Got a few hours to kill before your fave Scottsdale danceteria opens? Join your pin pals for a few frames of Cosmic Bowling (a.k.a. Xtreme Bowling) at the nearby Frontier Lanes, before trying to talk your way past the doorman at CBNC. Although many Valley alleys have been lowering their lights and blowing out their loudspeakers with Steppenwolf or Meat Loaf classics for years, this south Scottsdale bowl-a-rama strikes 'em all down with a chic clientele packing the lanes on Fridays and Saturdays for $15 (or Sundays through Thursdays for $12).
Music videos from such artists as Pink, and The Vines (but, oddly enough, not Bowling for Soup), and psychedelic light shows are projected onto two gigantic screens over the alleyways while punky skate bettys fling glowing balls alongside spiky-haired gym rats quaffing pitchers of Amber Bock, and clubwear-clad Scottsdale fembots smoking Parliament Lights.
Sure, you could save a few bucks by throwing gutter balls with Flo and Jethro out in Apache Junction, but why miss out on getting taunted by frat boys exclaiming, "Rolled a 239, bitch! Beat that!"?
It'll cost you about $1,200 a day to get your speed fix driving race-ready Corvette C5s out at Bob Bondurant's School of High Performance Driving. For most of us, that just ain't gonna happen, particularly on any regular basis.
For us, there's Speedway Raceway, where racing is so intelligently miniaturized it gives you a super-size thrill at a teeny-weeny price. At Speedway, you'll be driving 270cc Honda-powered Indy-style go-karts around a tightly hairpinned quarter-mile indoor track. In other words, you're six inches off the ground going 50 miles an hour through turns with only inches to spare. In still other words, your adrenal glands will be squirting like high-performance fuel injectors. All this for $20 for 16 laps. Or much less with the special discounts frequently offered by the raceway. Get racing.
Crotch rockets. Imports with supercharged engines, injected with nitrous oxide for extra speed. Tricked-out Mustangs that are all show and no go. Hoochie-mamas that can do a neck roll to beat Mr. Fantastic. Fly bitches that'll make you drool like a fool.
These are just some of the sights you'll peep if you head up to Speedworld in Wittmann on most any Saturday night for the come-one, come-all drag-racing program. All vehicles are welcome, from that '67 Camaro with the big block, to your sister's Scion fresh off the lot.
For $20, you can pretend you're Darrell Waltrip, or Danica Patrick if you're chickalicious. And about once every other month or so, After 9 Events (www.after9events.com) sponsors a racing extravaganza out there that includes a bikini contest and foam party and lasts until 5 a.m. Think you got a car that can do that quarter-mile in less than 10 seconds? Then you better be there, buster.
The first 40 miles on U.S. 60 are nondescript desert. Flat, but with not a lot of traffic -- given the sparse population in these parts, you should be able to get through this in a half-hour or less. A few miles past Wickenburg, things get interesting as you begin the ascent to 5,200 feet on State Highway 89. Highway workers built this road, but it's a gift from the motorcycle gods. Even on the weekends, cars are few and far between as the twists begin and only increase in radicalness as you rise into the cool air. Go too fast and you'll get dizzy. The vistas are plentiful and marvelous, especially at sundown, but pay attention to the road. You'll be shifting dozens of times each mile as you head into turns where the brave rub knees on asphalt.
For the return trip, take State Highway 69, a less technical road with sweeping curves. Still a lot of fun, and a chance to relax after spending the last hour carving canyons. The road meanders for 60 miles before linking up with Interstate 17 for a fast blast back to the big city. It's a 200-mile round trip, and as fine an afternoon in the saddle as you'll find in these parts.
Carbon buildups are bad, and downright dangerous for the modern exhaust system. In the interests of safety and proper maintenance, the conscientious motorcycle rider must occasionally remove small carbon deposits before they have a chance to become big ones. And there's only one way to blow carbon out of your pipes. You need a road less traveled, a place where snowbirds, cocker spaniels, deer and assorted other road-kill-in-waiting are scarce, where driveways are few, a road that's not too far away and accessible year-round both to the rider and, in case of calamity, Medevac helicopters.
State Highway 238 on the eastern outskirts of Maricopa County is perfect. The sparsely populated stretch between the town of Maricopa and the Sonoran Desert National Monument is scenic, unincorporated and rarely patrolled by police, who have better things to do than scout for speeders on a highway that leads nowhere. The biggest obstacles are garbage trucks going to and from the Butterfield Landfill, but once you're past the dump, you can really open it up. This isn't twisty territory, nor is it a yawner straight shot -- there are just enough turns to keep it interesting as the roadway's width shrinks in direct correlation to your speed. An ideal side trip on the ride to Tucson.
Of the Valley's three water parks, all owned by the Mesa-based Golfland Entertainment Centers, only Big Surf offers a wave pool where you can actually ride the waves -- and even then, the only spot the curls break strong enough to carry your rental raft all the way in to shore is at the three-foot depth marker, about two acres in from where the underwater gates release the rolling manmade pipelines.
For FOGs (surfer slang for Frickin' Old Guys) who remember the lagoon when it first opened in 1969 as the world's first inland wave pool (pictures of the park's original layout still hang in the front office), it's hard to see so much of the gnarly water going to waste on pintsize kooks and hodads. During regular operating hours, the deeper third of the lagoon remains roped off, as are the stairways surfers used to descend at the deep end to short-cut paddling out from shore.
But at least once a month during the summer, Big Surf returns to its glory days by offering an after-hours run of the entire lagoon to anyone itching to really catch a wave. For $35, anyone over 12 can grab one of the old '60s longboards the park still hangs onto and ramp it up on a series of 10 extra-big waves that Big Surf's patented plunger sends curling down the entire two-and-a-half-acre length of the pool. Call early to reserve your spot, though; even ocean-lapping Californians are known to show up for this way-cool after-hours pool party.
Sandwiched between the barreling tube slides of the entertainment complex's water park and its oddly secluded bumper boat lagoon, the mini golf course at Golfland/Sunsplash wins points for funneling the park's fascination with H2O throughout the typically hot, hot, hot putt-putt setting. It takes the average player a few holes into the course to notice the elaborate Rube Goldberg-like contraption that carries water up, down and all around the course, threading around the miniature buildings and obstacles like an early Central Arizona Project design gone crazy from the heat. But once the dusty duffer catches a wind-blown mist from an errant wooden gutter, it's all cool.
So you're sick of the grind -- the tough morning commute, the uptight boss, the boring gig. And you like to whack the little white ball around now and then. Then why wait for the weekend, when there's so many other things facing you? The Encanto courses may not be as challenging or as beautiful as any of the fancier tracks to the north (we've heard of Troon, mind you). But if you can spare a few hours for nine decent holes with the goofy sticks, you won't go wrong with this venerable city course. The price doesn't hurt -- no more than a sandwich and a fancy Starbucks drink -- and the relaxation factor is incalculable. We know a prosecutor who routinely strips down to a tee shirt at lunchtime and slips over to the driving range to hit a large bucket or two. Then he drives back downtown and returns to his job of sending people to prison. See? It works.
A good city golf course must have open arms to all ages, skill levels and pocketbooks. And if it's a city course in a course-saturated and golf-crazy place like the Valley, it needs to offer good golf, too.
Bear Creek in south Chandler fits both bills. Besides offering good golf at a great price, the course has an expansive and affordable driving range as well as an 18-hole executive course great for a quick $10 round. The main attraction is still the Bear course, designed by Nicklaus Design's Bill O'Leary. The course, while built for speed, offers subtle risk/reward scenarios on each of the links-style holes, with water, sand and gnarly desert scrub waiting to eat an errant or ill-conceived shot. In the off-season, you can have this private-club-caliber golf challenge for around $20, and even less if you find a deal on Web sites such as www.golf602com. And you can often bag 18 holes in three to four hours. Also, yearly memberships can be had for around $1,000, which includes unlimited driving range balls. For a golf nut on a budget, this is an incredible deal.
On the Dinosaur Course at Gold Canyon Golf Resort, central Arizona's most spectacular mountains are on full display as you play one of Arizona's most impressive golf courses. Nowhere else do you feel like you're getting the vistas you'd find on a long, challenging hike when you're actually in a golf cart. The Dinosaur Course, simply put, is a unique sport-and-aesthetic experience that shouldn't be missed. If you can, try to hit the final nine as the golden hour of evening approaches. Nothing in golf compares.
Apache Stronghold remains
Golfweek magazine's top golf course in Arizona.
This is heady stuff, and certainly debatable. Better than Troon North? The Boulders? Grayhawk? That's like saying Ferrari is better than Lamborghini. It's more a matter of taste than quality.
But for a weekend golf getaway from Phoenix, especially in July or August, particularly if you're not a trust-fund kid, Apache Stronghold is a hands-down winner. It is a lovely course in a lovely high rangeland setting 3,000 feet above the Valley.
Apache Stronghold, part of the Apache Gold Casino/Resort complex east of Globe on the San Carlos Apache Reservation, is probably better suited for the under-10-handicap golfer. The San Carlos Tribe offers great stay-and-play deals throughout the year. As for the course, not only is it long, at about 7,500 yards from the black tees, but most every shot is greeted with a brain-grating risk/reward scenario.
Expect to shoot poorly and love it.
Chris Wehrle and his mom, Candy Phelps, are at the top of our "Wish I'd Thought of That" list, thanks to their Putt-Her golf club, which is flying out of pro shops across the land. The Putt-Her, like those old stag-party ballpoint pens, displays a bikini-clad woman when you tip it over. Although Mom, a retired peddler of golf attire, nixed the idea of the Putt-Her's shapely model winding up naked when you upend her, the duo's company, BlueBallSports, is hoping to introduce an all-nude stick featuring porn star Jenna Jameson one day soon. In the meantime, they've hit a hole-in-one with a photo of a local Polish babe, not to mention a deep understanding of the relationship between the birdies and the bees.
Serious racqueteers are unanimous in their praise of the Scottsdale Athletic Club. The enterprise began decades ago as the Scottsdale Tennis Club and over the years has evolved into a full-fledged tennis, fitness and dining/banquet facility. The club's pride and joy are its 11 immaculate courts, each featuring a lighting system that is the equal of any tennis center in the Southwest. This is the place where the touring pros come to practice.
Non-members are welcome for lessons and clinics by club pro Jarek Jabczynski, a world-ranked player and member of the Polish Davis Cup team.
And no, we don't know how many Polish tennis players it takes to win a Davis Cup match.
Phoenix Rock Gym's personable owner Paul "Dief" Diefenderfer has been scaling the big buttes around Arizona for 30 years -- he favors Pinnacle Peak and the giant domes of Cochise Stronghold near Tucson -- and he designed his indoor rock gym, now situated just across from the APS power plant on University Drive in Tempe, as a small-scale replica of his favorite canyons, cliffs, crags and crevices.
Phoenix Rock Gym was the first indoor climbing facility in the state, and still carries the most cred with the outdoor extremists. On weeknights, once the kids have cleared out, the 15,000-square-foot mini-canyon is filled with Dief's pro bouldering buddies. But the 17-foot overhang in the spacious beginners' area is designed to bring home the thrill of the big-time climb to the lil' lowlanders. "The kids love it, 'cause when you fall, you kind of swing out, and go for a ride," Dief says. "As long as you've got a rope on, falling is fun!"
Perhaps because of its proximity to the hugely popular -- and stunning -- Peralta trailhead, this newish (c. 2001) trail seldom gets its props as one of the Valley's best. Don't make the same mistake. A 10-mile trek along the edge of the Superstitions, the Lost Goldmine Trail brings a hiker close to both giant saguaros and stunning mountain views without a grueling uphill trek. Unlike the Peralta, too, the parking is free and the release from the burdens of civilization is total: On this trail, you won't be bothered by an endless stream of dog walkers and Boy Scouts, pushing their way to the summit. For most of the hike, we're betting you'll find yourself blissfully, wonderfully alone.
There are 170 miles of trails through the Superstition Mountains, which, by far, give hikers the most intense Sonoran Desert experiences within an hour of Phoenix.
One of the longest, meanest and most rewarding hikes in the Superstitions begins at the Reavis Ranch Trailhead. From this trailhead, you can work yourself deep into the wilderness and onto several of the area's most scenic walks.
Twelve miles in, in Roger's Canyon, you'll reach one of the finest Salado cliff dwellings in the region. Vandals apparently aren't willing to hike 24 miles round-trip. The cliff dwellings are in pristine shape.
Obviously, this is not a hike for the weak or ill-prepared. Take all precautions necessary for a long, difficult hike in the desert. There are many switchbacks, washouts, sharp drop-offs, sharp rocks and other obstacles that make this trip not only one of the most beautiful in the area, but also the most dangerous.
Most people would stop at "shabby" when describing Papago Park, but we think it's one of the coolest and most underutilized hiking areas in the Valley. Yes, the Phoenix city park is something of a faded dowager; yes, it's trashy; yes, the pea-green muckhole generously termed a pond looks as if it might spontaneously combust; and no, the hiking here doesn't require the technical skills of Piestewa Peak or Camelback Mountain. However, if you venture out of the more visited areas of the park, you'll find a lovely remnant of Sonoran Desert squeezed between ever-encroaching Phoenix, Tempe and Scottsdale. You might even encounter a coyote, a diamondback or a Gila monster, and you're almost guaranteed to see a jackrabbit or a baby cottontail gallivanting through the scrub that dots the desert washboard. Perhaps most important, you'll be all by your lonesome, save the occasional mountain biker whizzing by on your left.
Oh, how we hate to give this away, but here's our usual route (which is, by the way, unmarked and unnamed): After parking at the landmark known as Hole-in-the-Rock, head west by northwest toward the Big Buttes on McDowell Road. After you cross Galvin Parkway and close on the Buttes, you'll strike a trail that takes you gently around them, or you can path-find your way over them, which is technically quite challenging and a heckuva lot more fun. Once past the Big Buttes, head due south toward Saddle Butte. Climb up to the saddle and then scramble down the other side. Head south by southeast across the washboard. Re-cross Galvin and head due east, where you'll soon find yourself in the Phoenix Zoo parking lot. Look to your left for the nuclear pond and follow its southern flank to another trail that borders the north side of the zoo. Your next landmark -- no, it's not a desert mirage -- is the odd-duck pyramid, situated incongruously upon a small butte, which houses the corpse of Arizona's first governor, George W.P. Hunt. From the pyramid, look north toward Hole-in-the-Rock and set your star by it.
We usually finish with a breathtaking 360-degree view of the Valley from atop the Rock, followed by a windows-down, moon-roof-up, stereo-blasting drive on Galvin, the Valley's only truly crooked street. Ah, but that's another story . . .
Within a mile of all sorts of fast-food restaurants in Ahwatukee, you and the kids can set off on the Telegraph Pass Trail and quickly feel like you've left civilization. This one-and-a-half-mile trail offers fantastic views of the Valley as well as gorgeous desert flora and fauna, rugged Sonoran terrain and even a few petroglyphs. And when you're done, suburbia is right around the corner, handy for refreshing post-hike hungry kids. Which means you can have a great outdoor experience in South Mountain Park in a quick couple of hours, then be back in the indoors before the heat hits.
Boyce Thompson Arboretum is gorgeous and deeply informative any time of the year. But only in fall, as you walk the 1.5-mile path through the steep-walled Queen Creek Canyon, do you pass through hundreds of different tree species from ecosystems around the world changing colors together. It's a palette seen in few places on Earth. And surprisingly, most visitors come to the Arboretum in spring, leaving the paths fairly quiet during this spectacular show.
The 323-acre Arboretum, founded in the 1920s by mining magnate Colonel William Boyce Thompson, is the state's oldest and largest botanical garden. And beyond that, it's arguably the state's greatest place for a leisurely stroll.
This year, thanks to plentiful rains, the colors should be particularly beautiful. Arboretum officials estimate the peak color season will be from November 20 through December 5.
Thanksgiving weekend, the Arboretum will be hosting its annual fall color festival with music, storytellers, apple cider and numerous guided tours. It's a great event for families with guests in town for the holidays.
Late February and early March is wildflower season in Arizona, something many locals had forgotten until the rains returned last winter, bringing the desert's incredible flowers this past spring.
One of the most spectacular shows of color, and one of the most easily accessed, is Picacho Peak State Park 60 miles south of Phoenix, which, if you didn't know, is that giant solitary mountain you nearly run into on your way to Tucson.
During peak wildflower season, drivers along I-10 have been known to stop along the freeway to gaze at the outbreak of Mexican gold poppies along the mount's eastern slope.
This isn't smart. Better to come into the state park and take one of several trails allowing you to stroll amid the yellow-orange meadows.
At which point you'll realize the poppies aren't alone. A host of other beautiful, albeit more subtle, flowers dot the historic peak throughout the spring.
The park is open from 8 a.m. to 10 p.m. The trails close at sunset.
The narrow, serpentine Apache Trail cuts through deserts, around mountains, near cliff dwellings, along the shores of three lakes dammed up along the Salt River, past active copper-mining towns, and through beautifully eroded canyons. It's easy to see why this gorgeous 120-mile route has been a favorite of tourists since its completion in 1922.
President Teddy Roosevelt described the route as "one of the most spectacular, best-worth-seeing sights in the world." It's a gem no matter what time of year, although late summer can pose extra hazards from monsoon rains and washouts. The drive is doable by passenger car, but is best done in an SUV. The descent down a narrow gravel road into Fish Creek Canyon is one you'll never forget, and is guaranteed to scare the wits out of Aunt Minnie from Queens. Your guests may want to slit your throat before you reach historic Roosevelt Dam, but by the end of the day they will sing your praises for taking them on the drive of a lifetime.
To get there from Apache Junction, go north on State Route 88 toward Apache Lake. The paved road becomes a graded gravel surface after Tortilla Flat, a tourist trap with all the usual goodies but no pay phone. The less adventurous may want to turn around here. Otherwise, continue to Roosevelt Lake and take State Route 188 toward the twin copper towns of Miami and Globe. Go west on U.S. 60, and be prepared for a wild two-lane mountain road through Devil's Canyon, the Queen Creek Tunnel and on into Superior.
This wonderful day trip cuts through segments of spectacular cactus forest vistas interspersed with old copper-mining towns and steep mountain grades. The route is a favorite for motorcyclists and convertibles, with some choice camping and picnicking spots scattered along the way, and a couple of crusty watering holes in Florence, Oracle Junction, Mammoth, Kearney and Superior to help keep you stoked. The biggest challenge is keeping one eye on the road while gawking at the yellow, purple, orange and red wildflowers that cover the hillsides and desert floor. March through early May is the best time to see wildflowers, although the displays vary from season to season depending on the intensity and duration of winter rains.
To get there from Phoenix, take U.S. 60 east to Florence Junction, then head south on State Route 79 through Florence (which becomes Pinal Pioneer Parkway). Continue on to Oracle Junction, then go east on State Route 77 toward Mammoth, where the route turns northerly and follows the San Pedro River. Just north of Dudleyville, veer left on State Route 177 and continue to Superior and the intersection with U.S. 60.
This is what P.E. was meant to be: stretching, training for races, and -- get this -- having fun. Some of the kids we've seen running around at the two parks where Racelab operates aren't in the best of shape. But they're getting there, and seem to be having such a good time that they forget they're -- yuck! -- exercising.
The program is all about coaching children to enjoy running with fun activities in a safe, motivating, noncompetitive environment. The folks who run this junior race marathon know what they're doing, and all they ask in exchange is about $35 monthly for one session a week, or less than $9 a session. That's a hell of a lot less than most sports that kids are involved in these days. As for the "equipment," a pair of sneakers, a ball cap and a bottle of water about covers it.
No experience necessary; just a smile and a willingness to run around for an hour or so. On many weekends, the kids get to see how they're doing at race competitions all over the Valley. Then they get to eat pizza.
Kids will be kids, but do they have to have lousy table manners, too? Not according to Katie Hamati and Kim Frampton, founders and teachers of this hands-on, interactive class on proper table etiquette. Table Graces teaches Johnny and Janey (and perhaps their manners-impaired parents as well) which fork to use, when it's okay to use your fingers, and why it's best not to drink from one's finger bowl. Besides the art of table manners, children will learn proper etiquette for dining out -- mastering how to order, eat, and deal with an errant napkin or that pesky row of forks beside their plate. In the real restaurant setting of Bravo Bistro, Katie and Kim role-play with kids about the best way to maneuver around that "thing" on your plate; who takes the first bite at a dinner party; and who orders first when dining out. We wish this sort of instruction was mandatory at every grade school, but in the meantime, we're grateful for Table Graces.
Every weekend night, a sea of teenage boys and girls makes its pilgrimage to this user-friendly outdoor mall. There, in what the mallsters call The District, the teens engage in the north Valley equivalent of the Mexican paseo, strolling around and around the outdoor heart of the mall to see and be seen. The teens are most welcome here, for the obvious reason that many of them seem to have money to burn. Parents lurk nearby, doing their own middle-aged stroll without being overly intrusive. On most Friday nights, the band shell features live music, usually an age-appropriate (anything under 25 will do) electric combo. And don't worry about the elements -- the misters work well all summer long, and a faux fireplace near the movie theater keeps the young'uns warm in the winter. One more thing: Professional security is everywhere, which is a good news for kids, parents and shoppers alike.
We all know that the mass media dangle the strings of our little ones' minds -- must we utter the word Barney to make our point? But there are alternatives to the onslaught, and they're fun ones. Since 1983, the nonprofit Great Arizona Puppet Theater has been thrilling young audiences all over the state with its year-round performances. Puppet shows would seem to be passé in this age of Xbox, but a look-see at any of the shows proves otherwise. With their enduring theme of Arizona as a great place to be -- hey, why not? -- the puppeteers embrace ancient fairy tales, Native American themes and desert life with their lovable little characters. The theater features summer puppet classes for kids through the sixth grade and more. If given the chance, it'll also make your kid's birthday party a memorable one.
We have to admit that we thought this was one of the dumbest inventions we'd ever heard of -- 'til a hot August afternoon when we scorched little thighs with seat belts, trying to coax our toddlers into the car, and thought, "Gee, why don't we have a Cold Seat or two?"
Shari Griffin was tired of strapping her own two young sons into molten car seats in the summer, in Phoenix. What could she, a stay-at-home Ahwatukee Hills mother of two, do to make those contraptions kinder to her babies' bottoms? She could put ice packs into a cloth cover, and then put her creation in the car seats before putting her children into them, that's what she could do. Voilà! The Cold Seat was born. The car-seat-size ice pack comes in four patterns, and can be rolled up and stored in the freezer between uses. Griffin sells her invention for $49.95 a pop through her Web site and over the phone. Sure, cooling hot seats with ice packs seems obvious in hindsight, but you didn't think of it. Besides, you have to give Griffin a lot of credit for figuring out a way to sell ice for around $25 a pound.
We're not easily impressed. We're saying, we've seen our share of celebrity homies in this sun-baked metropolis: Alice Cooper, Glen Campbell. The list is, um, endless. But we've never seen either of them early in the morning, much less in the same place. And, before a year or two ago, we had never seen a local sports celebrity at all outside Bank One Ballpark, America West Arena or Sun Devil Stadium. Yeah, yeah, we know, Cooper and Campbell both golf. Doesn't count!
Then we started hanging at Starbucks in the Paradise Village Gateway shopping center, just outside Paradise Valley. In 24 or so months, we spotted Diamondback Luis Gonzalez, former Phoenix Suns power forward and now TNT motormouth Charles Barkley, and the Great One, Wayne Gretzky, new coach of the Coyotes. We've heard word of other sightings, including former D-Back and now New York Yankees pitcher Randy Johnson. And Suns defector Joe Johnson.
We almost choked on our popcorn last March 18 when, during halftime of a Phoenix Suns game, we spotted Monsignor Dale Fushek, once second in command of the Phoenix Roman Catholic Diocese, sitting alongside Jerry Colangelo and a score of other sports celebs as late legendary Suns coach Cotton Fitzsimmons became the 11th member of the Suns' Ring of Honor. Also on hand at the induction ceremony were the likes of Charles Barkley, Dan Majerle and "adopted" Fitzsimmons son Kevin Johnson.
Seems Fushek -- the highest-ranking Catholic cleric to be accused of not just covering up for pedophiles but of untoward activity with young boys himself -- had been Fitzsimmons' pastor at St. Timothy's in the East Valley. Only three weeks after New Times had published an eye-popping article about Fushek's myriad sins, there was Father Dale getting introduced along with the rest of the dignitaries at center court of America West Arena. And why not, Colangelo may have rationalized; Fushek had been the golden boy of the Catholic church for decades. He was in charge of Life Teen, the national church's premier youth program, and everybody knows the NBA's very popular with sports-loving youngsters. (Um, after the article came out, everybody found out that youngsters, sports-loving or not, were very popular with the lecherous friar.)
Suns chairman Colangelo didn't seem to care about any of that stuff, or even that Father Dale had been forced to take administrative leave from the diocese because of his victims' many allegations against him. You can't always believe what you read, right, Jer?
Let's see. Best sports team? Duh! Ladies and gentlemen, your Phoenix Suns! With league MVP Steve Nash at the controls, the beast that is Amaré Stoudemire was unleashed, and Shawn Marion had a breakout season. Our very tall boys shattered the team NBA mark for three-pointers, with Quentin Richardson establishing the new individual standard while Coach of the Year Mike D'Antoni's run-and-gun Suns raced to b-ball's best record. Joe Johnson's playoff injury effectively ended his team's hopes against eventual champions the San Antonio Spurs, but Nash and Stoudemire will be wearing championship rings before they're through.
He looks like your quirky disheveled cousin who's supposedly on the edge of making a big breakthrough in the software industry. But he's not. Instead, this Canadian import took the town and the NBA by storm last season en route to winning Most Valuable Player honors. Everyone in town knows that the dude is a miracle on the hard courts -- his presence was largely responsible for one of the biggest team turnarounds in league history. But Nash also is the rare pro athlete with a definite mind of his own, and we like that. During the 2003 All-Star Game, he showed up wearing a tee shirt that read, "Shoot baskets not people." Nash explained that he thought the Bush administration's obsession with Iraq was way off-kilter. Thankfully, his game sure wasn't.
Now, we can certainly understand how a rich, young African-American celebrity would relish living in Blacklanta, the capital of Buppie America, but for Phoenix Suns shooting guard Joe Johnson to choose playing for the lowly Atlanta Hawks -- when he could get the same mega-money ($69 million and change over five years) playing for our elite pro basketballers -- is just plain crazy.
We hear that a major reason JJ wanted to go is that some of the Suns players treated him like a bumpkin. See, he doesn't favor the blang-blang of Suns players like star center/forward Amaré Stoudemire, and it's true that JJ has trouble getting a coherent sentence out of his country-fried mouth during postgame interviews. As for Stoudemire vs. Johnson, there was the much-publicized incident in which a snarling Amaré asked JJ during a playoff game if he planned to play "fucking defense?!"
Seems Joe's shy little feelings were damaged beyond repair. Whatever . . . JJ's reasoning must have been clouded by way too much time in the Arizona sun, because he'd have to be suffering from baked-brain syndrome to prefer playing for the worst team in the NBA last year rather than take a little ribbing from certain members of our title-contending purple-and-orangemen. JJ, where was the love for the city and franchise that made yours a household name? Our hearts are as broken as the Salt River bottom after Old Sol has dried up those monsoon puddles.
Ike Diogu won over untold fans during his three wonderful years as the best college basketball player in these parts (hey, now, Arizona Wildcats fans), and it wasn't just for his uncanny ability to stick a ball through a hoop. We liked Ike because he wasn't a suck-up or a stuck-up, but a put-up, a team guy who won the respect of everyone around him by dint of a relentless work ethic and desire to win. Unfortunately for ASU, Ike decided to take his talents to the next level after last season's dismal team record. This strong son of Nigerian immigrants was chosen as a "lottery pick" in the NBA draft by the Golden State Warriors, a selection that turned him into an instant millionaire.
Sure enough, our fondest memory of Ike came on the floor of the Wells Fargo Arena, where the Sun Devils play their home games. But it wasn't about him dunking a basketball, blocking a shot, or using that big butt of his to move an opposing player out of the lane. No, we'll remember most that moment last December 21 when the ASU women's team upset powerful Connecticut at the arena. Ike, who was in attendance as a fan, danced onto the floor and joyously jumped up and down with dozens of other ASU students. That was Ike, blessed with athletic skills and an inner grace that elude all but a few of us -- and a hell of a decent guy to boot.
By day, Richard Rodriguez is a mild-mannered airplane mechanic for Timco Aviation. After nightfall, however, the 50-year-old Phoenix resident transmogrifies into his sensational alter ego known as Rattler Man. If you're wondering just who this snake-themed superhero is, you're obviously not going to enough Arizona Rattlers games. But fear not, foolish mortal, Rodriguez is.
Dressed in an elaborate costume consisting of a full-body skeleton suit, shoulder pads, spiked collar, rubber snake headdress, scepter and fangs, he's been attending more games -- both home and away -- than he's bothered to count, firing up the fans and players of the Valley's Arena Football League franchise for years now.
There was a recent scare among the "Pitizens" -- a.k.a. the fan base of the two-time ArenaBowl champions -- that the Valley's favorite footballers were headed out of town, but new majority owner Bob Hernreich quelled such rumors when he announced back in July that the team would continue to slink around America West Arena for years to come.
Some say it was smart sports management that saved the day, but we'd like to think it was Rattler Man.
Stand out in the thick haze of dust on a patchwork Little League field in the Milwaukee Brewers' abandoned spring training facility in south Chandler, and you'll learn to appreciate just how cool the Surprise Recreation Campus really is. While East Valley suburbs such as Chandler lag behind in providing quality sports facilities (not to mention quality sports events) for its residents, the West Valley, particularly Surprise, has done a phenomenal job of creating a centralized recreation park worthy of a fast-growing, outdoor-oriented population.
The Surprise Complex includes not only the gorgeous main stadium and 14 fields for the Texas Rangers and Kansas City Royals spring training season, but also 57 acres of parks and fields, a library, a five-acre lake, and the city's administrative offices. It is more than a place to watch and play sports; it's the progressive heart of a new city, a thoughtful common ground for the common good -- one that should be a shining model for the rest of the Valley.
The Peoria Sports Complex is like a megaplex for baseball. Over here, you can watch Ichiro and the Seattle Mariners getting primed for the upcoming season. Over there, Khalil Greene and his Padres compadres are taking infield. And in most any direction, Padre and Mariner hopefuls are practicing some baseball fundamental on some gorgeous field under some beautiful springtime sky. What sets the Peoria Sports Complex apart, too, is parking and access to food. Yes, it's much like a shopping center. But there's a reason shopping centers are popular. You will find parking, you will be in your seat in 10 minutes, and you will have a menu in your hand within 15 minutes of the last out. Spring training games, and spring training afternoons, are supposed to be easy. In Peoria, they still can be.
We conducted a wholly unscientific survey to determine the best place to spot baseball players in town for spring training. Of the three guys (and trust us, these are men in the know) we asked, each said the same thing, before the question was even complete: Babe's.
We won't tell you who we've heard hangs out at the Scottsdale topless club, who gets lap dances, who gets drunk, who gets crazy. We won't even tell you which teams they play for, although you do know that Scottsdale Stadium's just up the street and around the corner, and Phoenix Muni's not far, either. You know us, we don't want to make trouble. We're just in the business of providing information.
The answer to the question: Babe's.
Less than a mile away from the concrete of downtown Tempe sits a seven-acre green neighborhood park -- and home to some serious rim-rocking pickup basketball. True, the courts at Jaycee Park are sparse (just two), but the competition is the real deal. On Thursday evenings, be prepared to wait 30 minutes before taking on the winning team to a game of "15 by 1's." Bright lights surround the court and stay illuminated until midnight. Jaycee Park is accessible by one of downtown's free shuttles as well as bike-friendly paths. Other amenities include a sand volleyball court, a softball field, an off-leash dog run area and numerous coal barbecue grills. If your game thrives on the indoor hardwood, the adjacent Westside Community Center offers free open gym hours every Sunday from 3:30 to 5:45 p.m. to adults ages 18 years and over.
According to hometown ballers, the only basketball game in town -- even when the Suns are playing at home -- takes place on Sunday nights at Encanto Park. With the aged Veterans' Memorial Coliseum as the backdrop, play alongside the best local talent from the high school, college and neighborhood levels during the Sunday jam session. The games have a playoff-level intensity, where grandstands located at the side of the court are filled with up to 100 curious onlookers. Back in the day, it wasn't surprising to see former Suns players Kevin Johnson and A.C. Green.
Today, the urban legends are locals trying to improve their game on one of Encanto's three full courts. The complex, which also houses volleyball and racquetball courts, is open Mondays through Fridays from 5 to 10 p.m., and Saturdays and Sundays from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. Equipment checkout is available, and admission is always free.
It's no secret that pro athletes love to get their recreational, off-season game on (sans paycheck) in the Valley. You'll frequently find NFL players like Philadelphia Eagles quarterback Donovan McNabb and ex-Cardinal Simeon Rice hooping it up inside the student rec center at Arizona State University or the LA Fitness at Town & Country Shopping Center, respectively. Major Leaguers Nomar Garciaparra and ex-Diamondback Curt Schilling train in seclusion in Tempe. But you don't need a student ID or a health-club membership (or a pair of binoculars) to see the Sun King -- Phoenix's own Amaré Stoudemire -- abuse the rim at Scottsdale Community College. Six nights a week (Monday through Saturday) during the NBA's off-season, Stoudemire's been known to show up for hourlong pickup games with current and former Suns players, including Maciej Lampe (whose personal trainer is working him out at SCC), Jake Voskuhl and Tom Gugliotta, as well as current ASU baller Kevin Kruger, former Sun Devils Ike Diogu and Tommy Smith, and even local high school phenom Jared Bayless of St. Mary's. With all that talent on one court -- and free admission -- SCC's gonna need a bigger gym.
If you can stand to vacate your lucky armchair on Saturdays and Sundays, you'll be rewarded handsomely -- if not with a win by your favorite pro or college football team, then at least with a pigskin party fit for an MVP. The Ritz's Executive Football Club boasts three big-screen plasma TVs, laptop computers for fantasy geeks, an all-you-can-eat "tailgate buffet" and complimentary drinks during the first quarter of each game, all for just $20 admission to the hotel's posh, mahogany-soaked Esplanade Club. You can even buy "season tickets" (for $500) and have a say in which games are shown each week. Just be sure not to show up in a wife-beater and boxers.
Our out-of-state buddies love teasing us about how the only bodies of water we have around these parts are the various "fake lakes" dotting the arid local landscape. "Back where we come from, ponds don't need to be filled with recycled toilet water," they exclaim, before deluging us with their various fish tales. Despite the contempt, our so-called friends would be surprised to know there are actually some decent angling experiences around the Valley, particularly at the 7.5-acre central Phoenix urban lake at Encanto Park. Folks gather during the early morning and late evening hours to engage in the age-old battle of man against beast, attempting to lead catfish, bluegills, sunfish, bass and carp to their doom using shimmering lures and nontraditional bait like hot-dog chunks, shrimp, or bits of corn. The more compassionate fishermen release their catches back into the drink, while others harvest their prey while licking their lips in anticipation of a seafood dinner. It ain't The Old Man and the Sea, but it'll do nicely.
Every fall and spring, thousands of folks flutter over to this desert sanctuary to join the butterflies in an orgy of color and movement. Inside the pavilion, surrounded by native foliage and blooming wildflowers, the humans observe the butterflies in all their glory. Those really in the know can tell the Sleepy Orange from the Painted Lady, and the Southern Dogface from the Common Checkered Skipper. Adults and small children seem to be equally enchanted by the moment. Last spring, we watched a hyperkinetic 9-year-old instantly slow to the speed of a chanting Tibetan monk as the butterflies surrounded and landed on him. A magical place. On October 1, the garden's Mariposa Monarca exhibit opens -- you can dance with the butterflies 'til November 6.
If you're motoring into Phoenix from Los Angeles after the mind-numbing negative space of the Mojave and Sonoran deserts -- or even just returning from a visit to the West Valley -- this perspective of downtown and uptown with the Phoenix Mountains and Camelback Mountain looming to the left is simply breathtaking. This elevated stretch of eastbound 10 is one of the few spots from which our Valley looks like a true metropolis and like the fifth-largest city in the U.S. The nighttime view is just as stunning, with lights shimmering like freshly cut diamonds on black velvet; but our favorite time of all is summer sunset, when the feverish sun casts its dimming rays on the reflective glass of the buildings, and that singular desert mist hovers over the mountains like a soft blue shroud. There aren't too many things to like about either Phoenix summers or Valley freeways, but here's one.
We love a parade, but we love a carnival even more -- you know, an old-fashioned, cheesy cake walk of a good time. But where to find the accouterment? We discovered rows of old cardboard boxes stuffed with carnival goods at Fun Services, an oddly named warehouse of a party store in Tempe.
The store stocks all the best traditional party goods -- enough paper goods to throw a palm-tree-themed party for 100, confetti in all sorts of shapes and a large costume shop with clown gear galore. But our favorite part was the back warehouse, which you have to ask about. When you do, a staff member will helpfully offer you paper and pencil to record your purchases, and leave you alone (there's no air conditioning back there, so who could blame her?) in the dim room, stocked with Santas waiting for the right season and the aforementioned boxes of carnival goods.
We dug for what seemed like days, never reaching the end but stuffing our basket with harmonicas, oversize sunglasses and kewpie dolls in assorted poses. We found blow-up guitars and oversize, glittered "microphones" for a sock hop, and enough plastic crap to satisfy our carnival cravings for good.
Whatcha doin' next Saturday?
