Nice job, Knicks. Lookin' like the early November team that roared to a 2-1 start to the season. They looked like they were having fun out there, even when they were rolling around on the floor or chucking the ball into the stands.
Actually, I wasn't watching the game closely at all. My buddy came over and transferred a bunch of my old ADAT master tapes onto his computer. God bless his soul.Those old ADAT machines are hilarious. These things were "state of the art" at one point. They sound like an MRI machine, and give you the feeling that you're about to watch an old VHS tape on your clunky old VCR. Wait, you are putting an old VHS tape into a clunky old VCR...
In other news, stAy-Rod has agreed to a "marketing package" that gives him $6M every time he reaches a home run plateau: 660, 714, 755, 762 and 763+. Hell, why not throw in some other bonuses into the package?
Prime Time: A-Rod gets $(p x 1000) for every "prime plateau" he hits for the next 10 years. So, at 521 HR he gets a $521,000 bonus, at 523 $523,000, at 541 $541,000, and so forth up to 761, 769, etc.He also gets a bonus for wearing the prime number 13 on his back, and for managing only 7 hits in the last 3 seasons worth of playoff games.
Art-Rod: The Yankees must continue their tradition of honoring Alex with a new piece of "art" for each of the above milestones. Maybe an enormous piece of twisted sheet metal by Richard Serra would be appropriate for 714? (just don't drop it this time!)
A-Bombed for A-Rod: Every Yankee fan gets a personal "A-Rod number" based on the last 3 digits of their social security number. If he hits a dinger corresponding with a fan's AR#, that fan drinks for free for the rest of that game (even after the 7th inning cutoff). The lucky fan(s) also automatically becomes Bud Fan of the Game. The man would never be booed again. I'll be eligible for my drunken mess of a game sometime halfway through the 2010 season or so.
Showing posts with label MLB 2007. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MLB 2007. Show all posts
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Boras the spider
When it comes to the Yanks, my new motto is "let's move on." We lost in 4 to the Indians? Let's move on. Torre got screwed? Let's move on.
I think I'm ready to move on with A-Rod, too. Scott Boras is a goddamn asshole. Here he goes:
"Without Pettitte, Rivera and Posada, it's not the same team," CNNMoney.com quoted Boras as saying. "He's held accountable for being on a playoff team and winning in the playoffs."
In other words, how can A-Rod possibly function here in New York with all the recent tumult? How can we expect A-Rod to deliver in the post-season with so much up in the air?
7 for 44 with 1 RBI in the last three years? That's gonna be mighty tough to reproduce without the old gang around. Wait a sec, unless... A-Rod actually stepped up and filled the hole left by the leaving vets himself!!?? That might be worth a few million!
I think I'm ready to move on with A-Rod, too. Scott Boras is a goddamn asshole. Here he goes:
"Without Pettitte, Rivera and Posada, it's not the same team," CNNMoney.com quoted Boras as saying. "He's held accountable for being on a playoff team and winning in the playoffs."
In other words, how can A-Rod possibly function here in New York with all the recent tumult? How can we expect A-Rod to deliver in the post-season with so much up in the air?
7 for 44 with 1 RBI in the last three years? That's gonna be mighty tough to reproduce without the old gang around. Wait a sec, unless... A-Rod actually stepped up and filled the hole left by the leaving vets himself!!?? That might be worth a few million!
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
A fitting fairwell…
Quote from Curt Schilling's blog:
"If October 28, 2007, was the last time I ever wear this uniform, thank you," Schilling wrote on Monday. "It was an honor and a privelage [sic] to be allowed to play here."
No, the privelage was, ours'.
"If October 28, 2007, was the last time I ever wear this uniform, thank you," Schilling wrote on Monday. "It was an honor and a privelage [sic] to be allowed to play here."
No, the privelage was, ours'.
Monday, October 29, 2007
This week in baseball…
Dave Denby's right-- I've been a bit reserved lately.
My brain has turned the consistency of a hot dog bun on the floor of the Fenway bleachers, but here's some of the bullshit I've jotted down over the past few days:
Is that a fat little wooden cross around Todd Helton's neck, or a piece of petrified bear dung?
How did anyone actually get psyched up for the Rockies?
The "Black Pearl" pirate ship??!!! Absolutely the stupidest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life! Eighth graders play hacky-sack with more soul than that! Never in the history of sports have grown men done something as pathetic as this. Including the Super Bowl Shuffle, various Met handshake/celebrations, you name it. I pray to God they don't do this next season.
As sleeping pills rescued me from the clinching Game Four of the Series, I muttered (to no one in particular) that "I can only name three Red Sox players that aren't complete assholes. Manny, Dice-K, and Francona..."
I stuck up for A-Rod at least three hundred times in the last few years, but screw him. Exactly what kind of career is he trying to assemble? What kind of legacy? Is he going for a 0.052 approval rating? Is he planning to retreat into an innertube ride in Anaheim?
PS- To all Yankee fans that booed A-Rod mercilessly: you're not to blame. You never were.
Did anyone else notice Manny looking for other guys on the team to celebrate with after the Series, and nobody really hanging out with him? Did you notice that Manny didn't give a shit at all?
Joe Buck called him "Jose Lugo" at least once.
He also said something about Boston "removing their onus."
I'm secretly praying that they forget to make the bleachers "no alcohol" in the new Yankee Stadium.
Everybody seems to have forgotten about how badly the Mets screwed up this season!
I can finally wear my "Pavano" jersey in public now.
Now Red Sox fans might have a real reason to be scared coming to the Bronx. I'm predicting a 200% rise in violence at Sox-Yanks games next season.
Let's go Knicks!!!
My brain has turned the consistency of a hot dog bun on the floor of the Fenway bleachers, but here's some of the bullshit I've jotted down over the past few days:
Is that a fat little wooden cross around Todd Helton's neck, or a piece of petrified bear dung?
How did anyone actually get psyched up for the Rockies?
The "Black Pearl" pirate ship??!!! Absolutely the stupidest fucking thing I've ever seen in my life! Eighth graders play hacky-sack with more soul than that! Never in the history of sports have grown men done something as pathetic as this. Including the Super Bowl Shuffle, various Met handshake/celebrations, you name it. I pray to God they don't do this next season.
As sleeping pills rescued me from the clinching Game Four of the Series, I muttered (to no one in particular) that "I can only name three Red Sox players that aren't complete assholes. Manny, Dice-K, and Francona..."
I stuck up for A-Rod at least three hundred times in the last few years, but screw him. Exactly what kind of career is he trying to assemble? What kind of legacy? Is he going for a 0.052 approval rating? Is he planning to retreat into an innertube ride in Anaheim?
PS- To all Yankee fans that booed A-Rod mercilessly: you're not to blame. You never were.
Did anyone else notice Manny looking for other guys on the team to celebrate with after the Series, and nobody really hanging out with him? Did you notice that Manny didn't give a shit at all?
Joe Buck called him "Jose Lugo" at least once.
He also said something about Boston "removing their onus."
I'm secretly praying that they forget to make the bleachers "no alcohol" in the new Yankee Stadium.
Everybody seems to have forgotten about how badly the Mets screwed up this season!
I can finally wear my "Pavano" jersey in public now.
Now Red Sox fans might have a real reason to be scared coming to the Bronx. I'm predicting a 200% rise in violence at Sox-Yanks games next season.
Let's go Knicks!!!
Monday, October 8, 2007
Who farted?
So the season's finally over. Who's to blame? Joe? A-Rod? Clemens? Tyler Clippard?
None of the above. You wanna know who's to blame for the colossal disappointments of the 2007 Yankees season? You really want to know?
We are.
We bitch and we moan every year about how this guy sucks and this guy makes too much money and this guy chokes, but we have it pretty damn good. Yeah, beer costs an arm and a leg (sometimes two legs) up at the Stadium, but you'll have a great goddamn time drinking that swill. We get our asses whupped by the Sox all the time, but it's pretty sweet when we do it back. In fact, it's pretty amazing just to have the NY-Boston thing going at all-- most fans don't have anything even close.
We've won 4 Championships since I've been actively going to 20 or more games a year. We've also been in the playoffs as long as I can remember. That's a lot of extra excitement and good times added on to an already long baseball season. We've been spoiled for a very long time.
We should all know by know that buckets of money can only do so much. We're not twice as good as a team with half our payroll, not even close! I accept the fact that we're a financially bloated team, and I often hope to see some of it translate onto the playing field, but I never have the unmitigated gall to demand the results that we pay for as fans! I demand the seat that I buy, the beer that I buy, and that's about it.
With a few exceptions, the guys on the Yankees do their jobs. Sometimes they do their jobs very well, and sometimes not very well. To suggest that one guy's slump has crippled the Yankees chance of winning a championship is insane. To suggest that a manager is somehow preventing his players from performing at their peak level night after night is ridiculous. Hell, I even blame myself every once in a while for a bad loss (which shoes was I wearing? was the hat on the bed? did i leave that light on for the whole inning?). It's all silly.
No team can win all the time. Our beloved Yankees come pretty damn close, so let's chill out and try to enjoy the good times when they come. Otherwise, what's the point.
But we do need some goats for the grill, so here they go...
1. Carl Pavano- the damage he's inflicted on the Yankees, both financial and organizational, cannot be measured. Like his statistics for the past few years, it cannot be measured. Just look at Beckett if you don't remember what we thought we had.
2. Jason Giambi- athletic cesspool.
3. Kei Igawa- we still have no idea what he is.
4. Mike Mussina- bad pitching and bad attitude.
5. Roger Clemens- I don't really care about this, but the $tats are $taggering.
6. Johnny Damon-He hasn't earned the right to talk about the Yankees anywhere near as much as he does.
My ambien's kicking in-- i'm going to bed.
None of the above. You wanna know who's to blame for the colossal disappointments of the 2007 Yankees season? You really want to know?
We are.
We bitch and we moan every year about how this guy sucks and this guy makes too much money and this guy chokes, but we have it pretty damn good. Yeah, beer costs an arm and a leg (sometimes two legs) up at the Stadium, but you'll have a great goddamn time drinking that swill. We get our asses whupped by the Sox all the time, but it's pretty sweet when we do it back. In fact, it's pretty amazing just to have the NY-Boston thing going at all-- most fans don't have anything even close.
We've won 4 Championships since I've been actively going to 20 or more games a year. We've also been in the playoffs as long as I can remember. That's a lot of extra excitement and good times added on to an already long baseball season. We've been spoiled for a very long time.
We should all know by know that buckets of money can only do so much. We're not twice as good as a team with half our payroll, not even close! I accept the fact that we're a financially bloated team, and I often hope to see some of it translate onto the playing field, but I never have the unmitigated gall to demand the results that we pay for as fans! I demand the seat that I buy, the beer that I buy, and that's about it.
With a few exceptions, the guys on the Yankees do their jobs. Sometimes they do their jobs very well, and sometimes not very well. To suggest that one guy's slump has crippled the Yankees chance of winning a championship is insane. To suggest that a manager is somehow preventing his players from performing at their peak level night after night is ridiculous. Hell, I even blame myself every once in a while for a bad loss (which shoes was I wearing? was the hat on the bed? did i leave that light on for the whole inning?). It's all silly.
No team can win all the time. Our beloved Yankees come pretty damn close, so let's chill out and try to enjoy the good times when they come. Otherwise, what's the point.
But we do need some goats for the grill, so here they go...
1. Carl Pavano- the damage he's inflicted on the Yankees, both financial and organizational, cannot be measured. Like his statistics for the past few years, it cannot be measured. Just look at Beckett if you don't remember what we thought we had.
2. Jason Giambi- athletic cesspool.
3. Kei Igawa- we still have no idea what he is.
4. Mike Mussina- bad pitching and bad attitude.
5. Roger Clemens- I don't really care about this, but the $tats are $taggering.
6. Johnny Damon-He hasn't earned the right to talk about the Yankees anywhere near as much as he does.
My ambien's kicking in-- i'm going to bed.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Yankees 8, Indians 4
Honestly, I had a pretty good feeling about this one from the git. We got there in record time, marred only by a very long wait for a chicken strips basket five minutes before the first pitch. Our seats stunk, but so what?!Our section (U-34!) was peppered with an entertaining assortment of freaks, weirdos and lowlifes. A girl to our left waved an enormous sign around ("Marry me, Jeter!") for the entire damn game. My favorite character was "Victor"-- a super-slick young man with a gold chain, earring, visor, bluetooth headset, and wet-looking hair. A classic middle-aged nerd was diagonally in front of me, with whom I shared two botched high-fives.
But none could compare the terrifying twosome directly in front of my date and I (row K, seats 5 & 6, to be exact). The miscreants were dead ringers for George Kennedy and Al Goldstein, respectively. The latter had one of the worst cases of dandruff I've ever seen, which he promptly scritched into my Diet Coke as soon as I sat down (I swear to God!). The back of his blue shirt looked like the bottom of a bag of pretzels. He kept taking his hat off and scratching his head.
Even worse was the guy's gaping buttcrack. First I was cracking up (hah!), then I was embarassed for the guy, and then I was just plain embarassed. I don't ever want to see anything like that again.
Not much else to say, although I did have a quick back and forth with a pathetic Indians fan, who scurried off shouting, "Fausto will be waiting for you on Wednesday!!" Maybe the weirdest "diss" I've ever heard.
I thought Wang was pitching tomorrow, but they have Moose up on yankees.com. I liked the Matsui batting 7th thing, but they'll probably screw that up all over again. We confirmed that we really only need half the guys to hit reasonably well to win, and maybe our pitchers to pitch reasonably half-well. Or maybe that will only work half the time.
Game 3 postscript
A few things I forgot to say...
I told at least three people yesterday that "all I want from Clemens is a quality start." On my way to the stadium last night, I realized how absurd my claim was. When wouldn't anyone be happy with a quality start from Clemens (or any pitcher, for that matter)?!As I thought about it, I realized that what I meant to say was that I'm happy if Clemens only lets up three runs. I didn't really care how many innings he pitched-- "limit the damage," as they say in Toronto. So I'd like to introduce a new term into the grand baseball lexicon:
A near-quality start is defined as any game in which a starting pitcher allows no more than three earned runs, regardless of the number of innings pitched.
I'll be using this as the new standard for most Yankee pitchers, both geriatric (Clemens, Mussina, etc.) and psychiatric (Igawa, etc.).
Oh yeah, I've been slagging the Yankees for years about their refusal to give anything extra at all to the fans (promotions, performances, BEER!). Last night was no exception. They just don't understand what the fans really want.
Is it really that hard to find someone to sing the anthem??!!! Preferably a local singer that people love?! I have nothing against the West Point Glee Club, or whatever the hell they were, but gimme a break! I felt like I was at a funeral, not a friggin' baseball game! They never get the sound for the ensemble vocal performances right anyway-- last night's feedback-drenched ordeal was typical.
Here are some easy ideas:
Jon Bon Jovi, Mariah Carey, Norah Jones (ok, maybe she's a Texas Rangers fan), Mary J Blige, Karen O... they'd all jump at the chance to sing the anthem at Yankee Stadium, right? The place would go nuts. I remember seeing Michael Bolton sing at a playoff game years ago, and it was fucking awesome!
Friday, October 5, 2007
aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
How the hell is nobody throwing in the bullpen while Joba walks 2 guys, throws 2 wild pitches, and hits a guy???!!!! I mean, that was the definition of a pitcher being "in trouble." I can't take it-- someone's doing a shitty job here...
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
just some thoughts
* Let's see Meintkcweizc play first on a regular basis from now on. Only sits against terrifying lefties.
* Give Edwar a break! Don't wanna see him change his last name to Quantrill.
* A-Rod's heading into a mini-funk. Better now than later.
* Gotta be 12 pitchers in the playoffs.
* I propose renaming "Scooter" the squirrel-- "Nutso" the squirrel!
* Give Edwar a break! Don't wanna see him change his last name to Quantrill.
* A-Rod's heading into a mini-funk. Better now than later.
* Gotta be 12 pitchers in the playoffs.
* I propose renaming "Scooter" the squirrel-- "Nutso" the squirrel!
Friday, September 14, 2007
Hell bent for leather
Ya gotta love it... we have like seven first basemen on the Yankees, and we play the one that can't field against the Sox.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Yankees 9, Devil Rays 6
This was the start of a grand day of baseball and drinking. Chuck Simone was on hand for the game and the first annual MLB Predictions Pool party to follow. A long day for sure.
The game seemed to take forever. We agreed to hold off on the beer until the Yankees scored, which didn't take long. A-Rod was barely across home plate and our 24 oz'ers were already paid for. We did make the mistake of buying our beers from "Rain Man"-- luckily this didn't come back to haunt us later on.
Not much else to tell about the game. The whole corked bat thing was both confusing and amusing, but not much else happened. I guess we grumbled a bit about having to use Mariano for 4 outs, but who the hell cares?
The PP party at the Riviera on 7th Ave was pretty damn fun. Lots of trivia questions and lots of beer. Lots of damn Sox fans too, who were pretty happy to watch the "shifty" Clay Buchholz no-no the O's. Ended up being a pretty good choice for the party.
Our "after party" choice was a bit more suspect. Karaoke at Winnie's is a long-standing tradition with this particular group of, um, friends. The place hasn't really changed at all, except perhaps that it's not quite as trendy (crowded) as it was a few years ago. Thank god.
I literally staggered home with a box of three enormous slices of pizza, slept in my clothes, and forgot to take out my contacts. Then I woke up and totally botched the pool update in the morning-- I couldn't see a goddamn thing. Glad tomorrow's Labor Day, 'cause I have a shitload of work to do.
The game seemed to take forever. We agreed to hold off on the beer until the Yankees scored, which didn't take long. A-Rod was barely across home plate and our 24 oz'ers were already paid for. We did make the mistake of buying our beers from "Rain Man"-- luckily this didn't come back to haunt us later on.Not much else to tell about the game. The whole corked bat thing was both confusing and amusing, but not much else happened. I guess we grumbled a bit about having to use Mariano for 4 outs, but who the hell cares?
The PP party at the Riviera on 7th Ave was pretty damn fun. Lots of trivia questions and lots of beer. Lots of damn Sox fans too, who were pretty happy to watch the "shifty" Clay Buchholz no-no the O's. Ended up being a pretty good choice for the party.
Our "after party" choice was a bit more suspect. Karaoke at Winnie's is a long-standing tradition with this particular group of, um, friends. The place hasn't really changed at all, except perhaps that it's not quite as trendy (crowded) as it was a few years ago. Thank god.
I literally staggered home with a box of three enormous slices of pizza, slept in my clothes, and forgot to take out my contacts. Then I woke up and totally botched the pool update in the morning-- I couldn't see a goddamn thing. Glad tomorrow's Labor Day, 'cause I have a shitload of work to do.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Yankees 5, Tigers 2
Clemens was a lot of fun today. He gave up a ton of hits, but he seemed to be giving that extra 10%. You know, that 10% that Mussina has been leaving off?! I had the feeling that Rog was ready to do just about anything to keep the Tigers down. I was sorta hoping he might hit Sheffield in the back, but that never happened (Sheff scalded the ball all three times off him)...
Farnsworth had a certain tenacity to him as well. Almost thought he might get a curtain call-- unbelievable! I've said it a million times: there has to be some way this guy can help us, and I don't mean on his hands and knees with a scrub brush
in the locker room. Dunno.
Back to Sheffield, who was brutally booed by the Saturday afternoon crowd. It was that weird kind of booing reserved for the "former fan favorites that leave for the team that just knocked us out of the playoffs and then bad-mouth our manager and other players as well" type of players (David Wells, etc.). The "SHEFFIELD SUCKS!!!" chant was absolutely hilarious.
Before I forget, last Wednesday's lineup was another joke in the "Facing Lefty Aces" series. We did the same thing against Johan Santana earlier this summer (Cairo, Phillips, Thompson, Nieves, etc.), and it was just as embarassing. It's not like Santana or Bedard even beat us by much-- a few runs make a difference! Let good hitters hit against good pitchers.
Farnsworth had a certain tenacity to him as well. Almost thought he might get a curtain call-- unbelievable! I've said it a million times: there has to be some way this guy can help us, and I don't mean on his hands and knees with a scrub brush
in the locker room. Dunno.Back to Sheffield, who was brutally booed by the Saturday afternoon crowd. It was that weird kind of booing reserved for the "former fan favorites that leave for the team that just knocked us out of the playoffs and then bad-mouth our manager and other players as well" type of players (David Wells, etc.). The "SHEFFIELD SUCKS!!!" chant was absolutely hilarious.
Before I forget, last Wednesday's lineup was another joke in the "Facing Lefty Aces" series. We did the same thing against Johan Santana earlier this summer (Cairo, Phillips, Thompson, Nieves, etc.), and it was just as embarassing. It's not like Santana or Bedard even beat us by much-- a few runs make a difference! Let good hitters hit against good pitchers.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Orioles 6, Yankees 3
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Orioles 6, Yankees 3 (postscript)
I woke up on the couch wearing a "BOSTON SUCKS" shirt the evening after this game...
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Orioles 6, Yankees 3 (postscript)
I woke up on the couch wearing a "BOSTON SUCKS" shirt the evening after this game...
Monday, August 13, 2007
Yankees 7, Orioles 6
Got off the 4 at around 6:30 tonight. There was something special in the air as Yankee fans crept down River Ave for the turnstiles-- a surprise A-Rod promotional item commemorating his 500th career HR was in effect!!! The only question on our collective mind was, "Just how shitty are the Yankees willing to go with this?"
Pretty shitty. We were handed a bizarre 9" by 6" flimsy piece of cardboard with two side-by-side Peter Max paintings of A.E.R. himself. The paintings are... interesting. My date immediately tried to throw hers in the trash just inside the stadium. I grabbed it from her hand as if she were chucking out a Mantle '51 baseball card and tucked it under my arm.
Far more interesting was the pre-game ceremony. Two easels covered with Yankee tarps stood to the left of home plate; a third, shorter easel stood on the right. Randy Levine, Cash, some guy and some lady were introduced by Shep, and finally A-Rod was paraded out. After A-Rod's ass was kissed for a couple of minutes, Peter Max came out! (hilariously intro'd as "the most popular artist in the worrrllldddd...") The ragtag group awkwardly interacted, and quickly settled in for the unveiling.
Were they presenting A-Rod with three bonus checks??!! No, it was the paintings. A-Rod gasped as the works were bared; my date and I laughed uncontrollably. We had no idea that the atrocity exhibition was just beginning.
Bob delivered an incoherent intro to the third piece, something about bats and zeroes. As you may have already seen on tonight's reels, Max and co. wrestled with the tarp cover and knocked the damn thing right over on the ground. I say "thing" because that's just what it is. A weird monstrosity made of balls, bats and a "500" in the style of the paintings. It's utterly awful. I asked my date to grade the paintings and the "piece" from 1 to 5: she gave the paintings reluctant "1"'s and the sculpture-thing a firm "zero". I sheepishly put my promotional replicas under the seat.
Wang was busy stinking up the joint when one of the strangest things I've ever seen at Yankee Stadium happened (and I've seen some weird shit). So fast I missed most of it. Ingredients: sudden commotion, lots of noise, people jumping out of their seats, soda/beer flying everywhere, something shooting past us, and me nearly running for my life. My immediate theories: (1) a drunken dwarf just fell from the top row of the upper deck (we were row R), or (2) the woman behind us was just assassinated by a rogue sniper on top of the stadium diagonal from us.
Turned out it was an insane SQUIRREL darting through the tier reserved. It seemed to just drop out of the fucking sky. People were saying something afterwards about it darting out of a popcorn tub, which may be true since there was popcorn flying everywhere. Anyway, my date got doused with soda. My A-Rod portraits were completely soaked (I still took one home like a complete idiot). The squirrel scratched up the arm of the little girl behind us (allowing me to hang on to my "assassination" theory for just a little bit longer) and bounced around off the legs of the guys right in front of us. Not really sure where the little bugger ran off to. Hopefully not the River Avenue Grill.
Oh yeah, the game was pretty good. Great to see Mo bounce back after the blow, Joba, the walk off... OK, I'm lying. We actually left early. In fact, maybe the earliest I've ever left (in hours & minutes) a game I wasn't thrown out of. I know this is thin ice, but we felt like it was the right thing to do. I was hooked up to a damn IV for most of the afternoon, my date was kinda tired, and that fucking squirrel scared the dickens outta me. Sue me.
Pretty shitty. We were handed a bizarre 9" by 6" flimsy piece of cardboard with two side-by-side Peter Max paintings of A.E.R. himself. The paintings are... interesting. My date immediately tried to throw hers in the trash just inside the stadium. I grabbed it from her hand as if she were chucking out a Mantle '51 baseball card and tucked it under my arm.
Far more interesting was the pre-game ceremony. Two easels covered with Yankee tarps stood to the left of home plate; a third, shorter easel stood on the right. Randy Levine, Cash, some guy and some lady were introduced by Shep, and finally A-Rod was paraded out. After A-Rod's ass was kissed for a couple of minutes, Peter Max came out! (hilariously intro'd as "the most popular artist in the worrrllldddd...") The ragtag group awkwardly interacted, and quickly settled in for the unveiling.
Were they presenting A-Rod with three bonus checks??!! No, it was the paintings. A-Rod gasped as the works were bared; my date and I laughed uncontrollably. We had no idea that the atrocity exhibition was just beginning.
Bob delivered an incoherent intro to the third piece, something about bats and zeroes. As you may have already seen on tonight's reels, Max and co. wrestled with the tarp cover and knocked the damn thing right over on the ground. I say "thing" because that's just what it is. A weird monstrosity made of balls, bats and a "500" in the style of the paintings. It's utterly awful. I asked my date to grade the paintings and the "piece" from 1 to 5: she gave the paintings reluctant "1"'s and the sculpture-thing a firm "zero". I sheepishly put my promotional replicas under the seat.
Wang was busy stinking up the joint when one of the strangest things I've ever seen at Yankee Stadium happened (and I've seen some weird shit). So fast I missed most of it. Ingredients: sudden commotion, lots of noise, people jumping out of their seats, soda/beer flying everywhere, something shooting past us, and me nearly running for my life. My immediate theories: (1) a drunken dwarf just fell from the top row of the upper deck (we were row R), or (2) the woman behind us was just assassinated by a rogue sniper on top of the stadium diagonal from us.
Turned out it was an insane SQUIRREL darting through the tier reserved. It seemed to just drop out of the fucking sky. People were saying something afterwards about it darting out of a popcorn tub, which may be true since there was popcorn flying everywhere. Anyway, my date got doused with soda. My A-Rod portraits were completely soaked (I still took one home like a complete idiot). The squirrel scratched up the arm of the little girl behind us (allowing me to hang on to my "assassination" theory for just a little bit longer) and bounced around off the legs of the guys right in front of us. Not really sure where the little bugger ran off to. Hopefully not the River Avenue Grill.
Oh yeah, the game was pretty good. Great to see Mo bounce back after the blow, Joba, the walk off... OK, I'm lying. We actually left early. In fact, maybe the earliest I've ever left (in hours & minutes) a game I wasn't thrown out of. I know this is thin ice, but we felt like it was the right thing to do. I was hooked up to a damn IV for most of the afternoon, my date was kinda tired, and that fucking squirrel scared the dickens outta me. Sue me.
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Yankees 5, Blue Jays 4
Rogers Centre is pretty weird. We went through the turnstiles and entered what appeared to be a parking garage. Then it looked more like an airport. Just when I was sure we were completely lost-- "We stand on guard for thee!!!" floods the grey cement entryway. Take me out to the ballgame!
We were fifth row in what I would call the left field bleachers. They call it "139-5-108". Unfortunately, our seats were smack dab in the middle of a long, long row. Even more unfortunate was the fact that they were the size of toddler carseats. Seriously. We tried to sit down, and I said to my date, "We must be doing something wrong here."
The guy next to me had a complete Blue Jays Cliff Politte uniform on (complete with pants). That's really weird. He also had his legs spread apart like Yosemite Sam, which didn't help. Not to mention, Toronto fans never leave their seats. Oh yeah, it was totally silent. Somewhere in between "library" and "funeral" on the noise scale. We got water and soda in the fourth inning, and didn't return to our seats until the eighth.
We decided to take a stroll around the stadium instead. The Rogers Centre makes a complete oval, so we just kept on going. The seats behind centre (you like that?) field are behind a giant tarp, so nobody sits there. We tried to just for kicks, and were told to return to our assigned seats. I've already been thrown out of one Canadian baseball stadium, so we hightailed it out of there.
My heart was racing, so I thought I'd have a beer. As the gentleman poured my Labatt's Blue, I asked him when beer is cut off at the Rog. He says, "Bottom of the 8th inning, two outs." Then he puts a plastic top on my paper beer cup! Not wanting to make waves, I promptly inserted a straw and started sipping away. I spilled Labatt's all over my shorts.
Some other weird stuff:
Everything at the Rogers Centre appears in the form of cartoons. Maybe this is how they justify the size of the seats-- they're going for the 6-and-under crowd. A truly bizarre segment at the end of the 2nd inning featured "Rocky the Mudhen" doing I'm not sure what. They also had a convoluted take-off on the Seinfeld Steinbrenner view-from-behind-the-desk thing, which made absolutely no sense.
The house organist was using keyboard sounds directly from Martin Hannett's Joy Division sessions. Not just because we just listened to the CD-- it really sounded like "Isolation" meets "Charge!!!!"
The Blue Jays don't have retired numbers. They have a "Level of Excellence". When I went to the men's room, I expected a sign to read "Hall of Relief".
By the way, the restrooms were completely empty. Apparently nobody was drinking any liquid and staying in their seat for nine innings.
The floors in the stadium were the cleanest floors I've even seen. I told my date I'd gladly eat a hot dog if I dropped it on the floor, since the floor was cleaner than any plate I've ever used.
We were fifth row in what I would call the left field bleachers. They call it "139-5-108". Unfortunately, our seats were smack dab in the middle of a long, long row. Even more unfortunate was the fact that they were the size of toddler carseats. Seriously. We tried to sit down, and I said to my date, "We must be doing something wrong here."
The guy next to me had a complete Blue Jays Cliff Politte uniform on (complete with pants). That's really weird. He also had his legs spread apart like Yosemite Sam, which didn't help. Not to mention, Toronto fans never leave their seats. Oh yeah, it was totally silent. Somewhere in between "library" and "funeral" on the noise scale. We got water and soda in the fourth inning, and didn't return to our seats until the eighth.
We decided to take a stroll around the stadium instead. The Rogers Centre makes a complete oval, so we just kept on going. The seats behind centre (you like that?) field are behind a giant tarp, so nobody sits there. We tried to just for kicks, and were told to return to our assigned seats. I've already been thrown out of one Canadian baseball stadium, so we hightailed it out of there.
My heart was racing, so I thought I'd have a beer. As the gentleman poured my Labatt's Blue, I asked him when beer is cut off at the Rog. He says, "Bottom of the 8th inning, two outs." Then he puts a plastic top on my paper beer cup! Not wanting to make waves, I promptly inserted a straw and started sipping away. I spilled Labatt's all over my shorts.
Some other weird stuff:
Everything at the Rogers Centre appears in the form of cartoons. Maybe this is how they justify the size of the seats-- they're going for the 6-and-under crowd. A truly bizarre segment at the end of the 2nd inning featured "Rocky the Mudhen" doing I'm not sure what. They also had a convoluted take-off on the Seinfeld Steinbrenner view-from-behind-the-desk thing, which made absolutely no sense.
The house organist was using keyboard sounds directly from Martin Hannett's Joy Division sessions. Not just because we just listened to the CD-- it really sounded like "Isolation" meets "Charge!!!!"
The Blue Jays don't have retired numbers. They have a "Level of Excellence". When I went to the men's room, I expected a sign to read "Hall of Relief".
By the way, the restrooms were completely empty. Apparently nobody was drinking any liquid and staying in their seat for nine innings.
The floors in the stadium were the cleanest floors I've even seen. I told my date I'd gladly eat a hot dog if I dropped it on the floor, since the floor was cleaner than any plate I've ever used.
Toronto fans love to take their shirts off. Here's, some evidence (David Beckham was just to the left of this shot).
What about the game? As soon as we made it away from our awful section, the Yanks piled on four runs in the sixth. To be fair, the Toronto fans were a lot better once we got closer to the area behind home plate. They were yelling, cursing at A-Rod, and having a generally good time. I was surprised nobody made fun of my Pavano shirt. Several Yankee fans asked me where I got it, though.
One more thing. If you've ever been to Toronto, you know that Rush is sewn into the fabric of the city. Maybe not in obvious ways, but it's there. They managed to save "Limelight" until the Jays' rally in the eighth inning, which I admired. We had dinner at the Hemispheres restaurant at our hotel after the game (this was nice, except for the drunk, loud, obnoxious Red Sox fan at the bar. This was the one time I got kinda dressed up, and he was wearing a ratty Sox visor, a Schilling jersey tee and flip flops). We stayed in room 2117, which was eerily close to...
One more thing. If you've ever been to Toronto, you know that Rush is sewn into the fabric of the city. Maybe not in obvious ways, but it's there. They managed to save "Limelight" until the Jays' rally in the eighth inning, which I admired. We had dinner at the Hemispheres restaurant at our hotel after the game (this was nice, except for the drunk, loud, obnoxious Red Sox fan at the bar. This was the one time I got kinda dressed up, and he was wearing a ratty Sox visor, a Schilling jersey tee and flip flops). We stayed in room 2117, which was eerily close to...
Friday, July 27, 2007
Royals 7, Yankees 0
Showed up hoping to see A-Rod's 500th, another Yankee blowout, etc. Ended up praying for a goddamn run.We had a hell of a time just getting to Kauffman Stadium from our hotel, which was supposed to be "across the street". Dodging cars coming off I-70, climbing up and down grassy hills, even avoiding a few Red Sox fans. It was a bit weird.
Yankee fans were everywhere. I'm not sure ANY of them were actually from New York. No big deal, but the guys next to us (who we bumped into later in the hotel lobby) were muttering something about "Sean Penn" in the 7th inning. Other Yankee fans at Fenway or Shea usually feel like brothers in arms-- these ones were more like cardboard cutouts.
An enormous opera singer performed the national anthem tonight, which was hilarious. She even threw in a Mariah-shriek at the end. I enjoyed two $6.25 24 oz Miller Lites and a weird polish sausage. The communal urinal-troughs were easily confused with the communal sink-troughs in the men's room.
Igawa really sucked again. It was downright embarassing to drive over 1000 miles to watch this half-wit pitch. At least Kevin Brown seemed kinda tough when I had to see him pitch in Arlington, Tampa, Flushing...
Sunday, July 22, 2007
Yankees 7, Devil Rays 3
Iggy the Stooge somehow made it through five innings this afternoon-- sorta like eating five Big Mac's in two hours. Maybe there's a role for this guy somewhere in the bullpen (manual labor?), but I'm not sure what that would be. He walks lefties and serves up dongs to righties-- not exactly the "lefty specialist" model.It was real hot today. The only beer being sold in the upper deck was Foster's oil cans, much to the chagrin of the non-independently wealthy residents. The only explanation I heard from one of the vendors was "we're out of regular beer." As if they were stuck selling 40's of St. Ides. Actually, I'd gladly pay $12 for that.
Speaking of 40, happy b-day to Joe Maissel. We had to leave the game a little early so we could make it to Joe's shindig out in Coney Island, which was well worth the long trip on the D train. Except for the crazy guy sitting across from us jabbering about "seeing some fucking live music" and "smoking hydro."
Speaking of smoking hydro, am I the only one that thinks this whole Shelley Duncan thing is a little weird? Wasn't she in The Poseidon Adventure? I seriously thought he was some kind of Sidd Finch-style practical joke until he jacked one into left yesterday. He looks like Rusty from Vacation.
My next Yankee field report will be from Kansas City on Thursday night.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Yankees 3, Blue Jays 2
The following is an experimental "game diary" lasting about four innings.
6:17 pm
1 train came right away-- good sign. The 1 has been bloody awful lately. I can't wait to give it a rating like the 7's supposedly getting right now.
6:24
Going to the Stadium the "old way" tonight (1 to 145th, walk across to St. Nick, B to Bronx). Passed by the enigmatic M & S Front Line Co. bar on 145th, which is one of the weirdest looking joints in town. Jeff G took a dump there once.
6:32
The theme song from Little House on the Prairie has been stuck in my head all night. The closing credits song, that is...
6:38
Making unbelievable time-- until now!!! Stuck at 145 waiting at the goddamn local track.
6:41
Just saw the usual crew of suckers coming within seconds of being sent to Tremont Ave on the express "D" train. I love how the guy lets'em sweat it out for 20 seconds or so, and then finally opens the doors.
6:55
Just bumped into Sweeney Murti in front of Loge 16! We exchanged a solid glance and nod; I gave him the "don't let Francesa grind you down" look...
7:01
Made it to my crappy seats (U26 row B) and promptly kicked a kid and his dad out of the way. They actually had better seats (of course!) and made their way into the tier box.
7:05
Jeter's totally horsing around with Cano and A-Rod during "O Canada." One can only imagine the shenanigans they're reminiscing over. I mean, these guys have had more Canadian tail than the Jacques Cartier expedition!
7:14
Some moron's sitting directly behind me rooting for the goddamn Blue Jays. He's wearing a Yankee shirt.
7:24
I don't think anyone up here knows where their real seats are. Lets make a rule: you only get one chance to sit in the right spot. If you fuck up, you're immediately banished to a holding area-- somewhere near the left field bleachers. This would cut down on lines and other nuisances.
7:32
A girl just spilled most of her beer on the heads of three young boys one row in front of her. One of the kids licked the beer off his hands.
7:39
AAAAHHHH! A 16 oz Coors Light, a giant salami hero, what more could I want? All I need is a jewel-encrusted sceptre and I'm pretty happy.
7:40
This is the worst beer I've ever tasted.
7:42
I've decided to drink a beer for each run the Yankees score tonight.
7:43
The hotshot in front of me just tried to pay for two 24 oz Heinekens with a $20 bill! Imagine the fool!!! He had to fish into his pocket for more dough as his girlfriend watched in shame. Then he held the giant beer up to the light, as if to assess its worth. Gimme a break!
7:50
Unbelievable. The other guy in front of me just stowed his tray of trash behind him in my row, right next to my seat! What the hell is that?! I don't know how long I'll make it up here.
7:52
The garbage guy has a really weird black cap on. It almost looks like the German coat of arms eagle-type thingie. I'm sitting behind a fucking Nazi!
7:54
A few little kids and their folks just came across my row, spilling my beer a little bit.One of the very first things toddlers should learn is to NEVER spill anyone's beer. This was one of my earliest "no-no" lessons in memory-- somewhere between stealing money out of my dad's wallet and wetting the bed.
8:02
The dork behind me really knows all the Blue Jay nicknames-- "here comes the Big Hurt..." and "that's 'Doc' Halladay right there..."
8:07
I'm starting to think I'm the biggest dork of all for scribbling all this stupid shit down during a Yankee game.
8:10
Ah yes, the befuddling "Number Stumper" of the night. Let's say we try a real tough one:
[(WHITEY FORD)^(0.25)]*[(JOHNNY DAMON)/(ROGER MARIS)]+[TYLER CLIPPARD]= ???
8:19
The three Diet Mountain Dew's I drank this afternoon (2 1/2 really-- I spilled half of one on the living room floor) are starting to catch up with me. Or maybe I'm catching up with them.
8:20
The 24 oz beer guy and gal sit solemnly, looking like they just made their first mortgage payment. "These next few months are gonna be tough, honey, but we'll make it..."
8:23
Hey, remember the great arcade game Crystal Castles? One of the best track-ball games around. Along with Zaxxon, that game may have shaped some of our nation's most creative mathematical minds. Not a big step from there to surface integrals and Riemann sums.
Here's where I ran screaming from my section and found Jon Pauley in a more civilized environment. I barely finished two 24 oz Heineys before I stumbled home in time to catch Christopher Walken on Jon Stewart.
6:17 pm
1 train came right away-- good sign. The 1 has been bloody awful lately. I can't wait to give it a rating like the 7's supposedly getting right now.
6:24
Going to the Stadium the "old way" tonight (1 to 145th, walk across to St. Nick, B to Bronx). Passed by the enigmatic M & S Front Line Co. bar on 145th, which is one of the weirdest looking joints in town. Jeff G took a dump there once.
6:32
The theme song from Little House on the Prairie has been stuck in my head all night. The closing credits song, that is...
6:38
Making unbelievable time-- until now!!! Stuck at 145 waiting at the goddamn local track.
6:41
Just saw the usual crew of suckers coming within seconds of being sent to Tremont Ave on the express "D" train. I love how the guy lets'em sweat it out for 20 seconds or so, and then finally opens the doors.
6:55
Just bumped into Sweeney Murti in front of Loge 16! We exchanged a solid glance and nod; I gave him the "don't let Francesa grind you down" look...
7:01
Made it to my crappy seats (U26 row B) and promptly kicked a kid and his dad out of the way. They actually had better seats (of course!) and made their way into the tier box.
7:05
Jeter's totally horsing around with Cano and A-Rod during "O Canada." One can only imagine the shenanigans they're reminiscing over. I mean, these guys have had more Canadian tail than the Jacques Cartier expedition!
7:14
Some moron's sitting directly behind me rooting for the goddamn Blue Jays. He's wearing a Yankee shirt.
7:24
I don't think anyone up here knows where their real seats are. Lets make a rule: you only get one chance to sit in the right spot. If you fuck up, you're immediately banished to a holding area-- somewhere near the left field bleachers. This would cut down on lines and other nuisances.
7:32
A girl just spilled most of her beer on the heads of three young boys one row in front of her. One of the kids licked the beer off his hands.
7:39
AAAAHHHH! A 16 oz Coors Light, a giant salami hero, what more could I want? All I need is a jewel-encrusted sceptre and I'm pretty happy.
7:40
This is the worst beer I've ever tasted.
7:42
I've decided to drink a beer for each run the Yankees score tonight.
7:43
The hotshot in front of me just tried to pay for two 24 oz Heinekens with a $20 bill! Imagine the fool!!! He had to fish into his pocket for more dough as his girlfriend watched in shame. Then he held the giant beer up to the light, as if to assess its worth. Gimme a break!
7:50
Unbelievable. The other guy in front of me just stowed his tray of trash behind him in my row, right next to my seat! What the hell is that?! I don't know how long I'll make it up here.
7:52
The garbage guy has a really weird black cap on. It almost looks like the German coat of arms eagle-type thingie. I'm sitting behind a fucking Nazi!
7:54
A few little kids and their folks just came across my row, spilling my beer a little bit.One of the very first things toddlers should learn is to NEVER spill anyone's beer. This was one of my earliest "no-no" lessons in memory-- somewhere between stealing money out of my dad's wallet and wetting the bed.
8:02
The dork behind me really knows all the Blue Jay nicknames-- "here comes the Big Hurt..." and "that's 'Doc' Halladay right there..."
8:07
I'm starting to think I'm the biggest dork of all for scribbling all this stupid shit down during a Yankee game.
8:10
Ah yes, the befuddling "Number Stumper" of the night. Let's say we try a real tough one:
[(WHITEY FORD)^(0.25)]*[(JOHNNY DAMON)/(ROGER MARIS)]+[TYLER CLIPPARD]= ???
8:19
The three Diet Mountain Dew's I drank this afternoon (2 1/2 really-- I spilled half of one on the living room floor) are starting to catch up with me. Or maybe I'm catching up with them.
8:20
The 24 oz beer guy and gal sit solemnly, looking like they just made their first mortgage payment. "These next few months are gonna be tough, honey, but we'll make it..."
8:23
Hey, remember the great arcade game Crystal Castles? One of the best track-ball games around. Along with Zaxxon, that game may have shaped some of our nation's most creative mathematical minds. Not a big step from there to surface integrals and Riemann sums.
Here's where I ran screaming from my section and found Jon Pauley in a more civilized environment. I barely finished two 24 oz Heineys before I stumbled home in time to catch Christopher Walken on Jon Stewart.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Brundle-Kei
Jeez, Igawa is awful. It's only the bottom of the third and I can't take it any more.
At least I figured out what he is. He's the result of a hideous experiment gone wrong: Jeff Weaver and Hideki Irabu fused together in the transporters from The Fly. Somehow the unspeakable result came out left-handed.
At least I figured out what he is. He's the result of a hideous experiment gone wrong: Jeff Weaver and Hideki Irabu fused together in the transporters from The Fly. Somehow the unspeakable result came out left-handed.
Saturday, July 7, 2007
Yankees 14, Angels 9
My second stint in the non-alcoholic beverages section this year (kinda like going on the DL), and this time I was actually straight as an arrow. "J-Lo" was more passive than aggressive, as she doled out the dirty work to various underlings. The guy next to me got hassled for drinking a beer (he honestly had no idea what he did wrong), and some other guy had the shirt over his "BOSTON SUCKS" shirt buttoned down too low (I swear!). Pretty mellow game.Mellow in the stands, that is. As Sir Sterling would say, this one was "a real donnybrook." Things seemed a bit out of control from the bottom of the 2nd on. Pettitte was almost worse than Colon; some might say he was worse. Andy's last two starts have an eerie "leading-up-to-a-trip-to-the-DL" feel to them. Sorta like when Lindsay Lohan gets fucked up a few times in a row and you know another trip to rehab's not far away.
NOBODY in our entire section had any idea what happened to Cairo/Cano on the weird play that ended the fifth. Actually, I figured it out pretty quickly, but... how often does a run just disappear from the board?!
Lots of other weird things seemed to be going on with the audio/video tonight. A-Rod was knocking the living shit out of the ball all night, but still had an "0-for-3" graphic up at one point. The usual cryptic comments were delivered by Bob Sheppard (a disembodied "Bbbrrerraa..."), and nobody's "Express Food" orders seemed to be arriving. Don't ever use that service-- you're asking for trouble.
Oh yeah, we never got our damn Koozies. They looked pretty lame anyway.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Yankees 8, Twins 0
Johan Santana very well might strike out 20 guys today-- this is the worst Yankee lineup I've seen in a while.
Anyway, fun game last night. I was super-uptight about getting there early enough to receive our free 1977 World Series Game 1 DVD, which I lost at some point. We sat next to a couple of out-of-towners wearing Twins and A's hats (I still can't remember what that was all about). After rubbing the Yankee drubbing in their faces all night, we decided to invite them out on the town with us after the game-- like all good NY'ers do. They probably left with all of their stereotypes confirmed: all people from New York are gay, liberal and drunk.
Apologies to the dozens of people I called from the game ("who the hell is pitching right now?!!"). I meant well.
Happy birthday John Sterling, George Steinbrenner and Mike Bonner.
Anyway, fun game last night. I was super-uptight about getting there early enough to receive our free 1977 World Series Game 1 DVD, which I lost at some point. We sat next to a couple of out-of-towners wearing Twins and A's hats (I still can't remember what that was all about). After rubbing the Yankee drubbing in their faces all night, we decided to invite them out on the town with us after the game-- like all good NY'ers do. They probably left with all of their stereotypes confirmed: all people from New York are gay, liberal and drunk.
Apologies to the dozens of people I called from the game ("who the hell is pitching right now?!!"). I meant well.
Happy birthday John Sterling, George Steinbrenner and Mike Bonner.
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