A-Rod's hijinks in Toronto

Hitting the town with a hooker wasn't the only dirty trick A-Rod played in Toronto. Just exactly what did Alex yell as he ran behind Howie Clark on Jorge's infield popup? My research has uncovered the following possibilities:

A) "I got it!!!"
B) "Noonan!!!"
C) "Sacrebleu!!!"
D) "I ate some prime King St. poontang last night, chump!!!"

I'm going with (B)-- I hear A-Rod's a big Ted Knight fan.

Angels 3, Yankees 1

This game was such a downer that it took me a few days to find the energy to write something about it. Brought a friend to the game (not a Yankee fan at all) that actually seemed willing to root for the old boys if they deserved it. They didn't.

My dad has an interesting theory about A-Rod, which he told me about a few weeks ago. He thinks Alex is:
1) learning disabled, or in his words, "mentally retarded." This was not a casual throw-away insult like "A-Rod sucks"-- this is something my dad's been thinking about for over a year.
2) visually impaired, or in his words, "partially blind." I asked if this means he can see sometimes, but not other times, and Dad nodded his head. I then wondered aloud if maybe Alex has some sort of bizarre sight-related allergy, and Dad practically jumped out of the couch in agreement.When they showed a close-up of A-Rod squinting and chewing gum in the dugout, I have to admit that the theory didn't seem so farfetched.

Yankees 8, Red Sox 3

It's been a bizarro kind of year for the Yanks, that's fer shitsure. I've personally seen them beat the Sox twice at home (unheard of for yours truly!) and also watched 'em lose at Fenway (first time for me). Oh yeah, they're also under .500, but let's not talk about that.

AWESOME seats tonight, courtesy of my date. Just a few rows off the field, a little bit past the visitors' dugout. A-Rod was within spitting distance.

We placed our food & drinks order asap-- around the top of the second inning. Our booty didn't arrive until the 6th. I was "ready to eat just about anything" by the time my Premio sausage finally showed up, and "anything" was a perfect description of the pathetic dog. Didn't matter-- I would've eaten three if they'd let me.

Couple of ridiculous Boston fans sitting in front of us that may have stepped right out of the Good Will Hunting DVD. They tried to act tough, but were more Dead Poets Society than anything else. And I don't think either one of them will be caught scribbling a ring theory proof in the hallways of MIT any time soon. And certainly won't be banging J-Lo either. I hated the fucking jerks.

Farnsworth needs to be slapped around by somebody. Not me.

Rangers 14, Yankees 2

The worst kind of game-- boring, long and disastrous. Unfortunate, since I was leading a group outing of about 100 people.

Overheard:
"This is so f%#$@& boring..."
"This is worse than watching on TV..."
"Which one is Derek Jeter?"
"Did the game start yet?"

Things are tough from the left field bleachers. None of the comments above were unjustified from our vantage point. It's a little bit like watching a movie on an airplane.

Yankees 8, Mariners 1

A beautiful day for baseball. Charles Simone made the trip down for the game, which often means the Yanks are gonna lose. Not this time.

CS and I saw Moose one pitch away from perfection at Fenway in 2001 (or as the Red Sox radio guys referred to it a few weeks ago, "David Cone's near-perfect game"). I was a little drunk at that game, and almost entirely blind out in the bleachers without my glasses. I was never entirely sure who was batting, although I had a pretty good idea that Mussina was pitching a decent game. It's possible that I jinxed the poor bastard with an excited utterance in the late innings ("Has he walked anybody?" or something stupid like that), but my conscience is clear.

Regardless, I was determined not to do anything wrong this time. I even tried not to leave my seat at all, but decided that pissing in my pants was a bad idea. My general approach was to be consistent in my behavior from the third inning on, which meant drinking Miller Lites and jabbering on and on about Allan Holdsworth and the BBC. When Wang gave up the dong in the 8th, I felt confident that it wasn't my fault.

Not much else that interesting went on: Bob S fucked up a few times, we had some post-game drinks at the "Mexican place" (Cinqo de Mayo was about as big a deal at this joint as Groundhog Day), and continued on and on into the night.

Oh yeah! Right after the 7th inning stretch, Hideki Irabu grabbed a microphone in the radio booth and announced that he was returning to the Yankees to pitch this season! The place went wild. Maybe that was what threw Wang off in the next inning...