On weekends, I enter through one of the gates used primarily by one of the concessionaires - the regular Event Services gate isn't open when I come to clock in. After swiping my badge in the time clock, I enter the service level of the stadium.

The concourse at Coors Field is one large loop, all on one level, circling around from behind the infield seats, past the concourse level restaurant, the interactive area, then under the center field seats dubbed "The Rockpile" {usually available for less than five bucks a seat}, on around the corner under the large video scoreboard, past the kids playground, and back to the infield area again. Beneath this large circuit is a similar loop, with a few detours and cubbyholes here and there, but more or less an identical large single level passageway. Although technically called "the service level" most game day staff call it "the tunnel."

So on Saturdays and Sundays once I'm in the tunnel, I begin my trek at a large warehouse area, stocked with full bottles of booze, and most always a large army of empties waiting to be recycled. Usually there are one or two forklifts moving back and forth, laden with cases of beer, large kegs, bags of ice and various other concession stand necessities. From there I head toward one of the two wardrobe rooms (I may write more about them someday soon), past another set of time clocks, past "Dock 6" which is beside the players parking lot and where the buses for the visiting team pull up. From there I pass the large media dock, where several production trailers are almost always parked. At this point, the tunnel walls are loaded with all kinds of memorabilia - first I pass decals for our 1995 appearance in the National League wild card game, and a newly added logo proclaiming us 2007 NL Champions, and World Series participants.

From there I move on to a section with photographs of the many athletic fields constructed with sponsorship by the Rockies over the years, and named after Rockies players from our 15 year history. After that there are a series of decals commemorating various milestones - first home run, first hit for the cycle, first complete game shutout, and so on.

Then I pass the entrance to the visitors clubhouse, exchange a greeting with Victor, at his usual assignment there, and if there's something worth kicking around, we visit for a bit. After I leave Victor with a wave, I pass on the right the auxiliary locker room, which serves as a green room on most game days, where those who will be introduced on the field wait for the cue to head toward home plate. Field security staff usually check in here and store their gear. On my left is a series of large plaques, listing opening day lineups for each of our 16 opening days, the roster on opening day and noting those on the DL as each season began.

Up to now, I've been walking on bare concrete, but just past the opening day lineups, the flooring changes.

This is the "Coors Clubhouse." Ticket holders for these seats routinely part with at least $100 per ticket, get seats directly behind home plate, and access to a bar and restaurant at no additional charge. In recognition of the "fat cat" status of ticket holders who use these facilities, the flooring is a kind of laminate. The walls on the left bear large color photographs of special Coors Field moments, including Matt Holliday's winning slide into the plate against San Diego last fall. On the right is the restaurant and bar.

Then another right turn, and at this point you must have a credential to venture further. The weight training room, the media interview room, the nursery where young moms can leave their children in the care of trained staff, and the access for press on game day are all in this area, and security is tight. Another right turn, and I pass the elevators which go up to the press box, and the little lobby where I visited with Vin Scully one day four years ago. I could not resist greeting him in person, and the usually prompt elevator took much longer to respond to the call button. He was a delightful partner for five or six minutes of friendly chat.

Then one final turn, the elevators to the executive reception desk are just around the corner, and I'm at work.

On pleasant Sunday mornings, I sometimes vary this routine by coming up to gaze at the field, green and brilliant in the sunshine with the grounds crew going through their meticulous morning routines.

Coming to work on weekdays is a little different, but still a treat for the mind and eyes. Before the gates open, the concourse belongs to the game day staff. We greet co-workers we haven't seen for awhile, listen to our supervisors' briefings, with the aroma of freshly diced onions from the condiment stands filling the air. Behind us as we listen to briefing notes is the field, bright green in the sunlight, or with the infield shrouded in the tarp on cloudy days when rain threatens. Batting practice is usually underway, and the sound system is belting out the team's choice of music for the day - interestingly enough, usually country or rock oldies from 20 years ago or so.

The Rockies are out of town until a week from tomorrow - writing this has made me wish I could go to work tomorrow!