Nerd Alert

Holy shit! Ross Ohlendorf got a 1520 on his SATs!

I wonder if any other former Yanks can beat that... does this make Ross Ohlendorf the smartest Yankee of all time?

I don't like Mondays

[just got to the TV at 8:20 after a non-stop day of logarithms, meetings, Jr's music class, veggie soup dinner & "The Hall-o-weiner." Game is joined in progress.]

8:21 - Looks like the ballgame's been pretty busy too. Burnett's such a damn wack-job!

8:23 - Joe Buck: "Teixeira just literally took a hit away from Ibanez." How else could he take it away?

8:25 - A.J. Burnett must've stepped in dog shit... someone just ran out to the mound with what looks like a gardening spade so he can scrape the shit off his shoe.

8:32 - Cliff Lee looks kinda like an indie rocker... maybe a one-off member of the Unsane or something.

8:41 - JB awkwardly mumbles something about ALS to the effect of "if you've ever experienced the disease, or know anyone who's experienced it..." I sincerely doubt that someone that actually has ALS will feel their spirits lifted by this effort, Joe.

8:52 - Damon works the walk!

8:55 - Can you imagine if Kate Hudson sat in the bleachers (I guess they have bleachers??) at Citizens Bank Park tonight? You could make an entire film just on that.

8:59 - I can't get over Utley without his hat on... total greaseball. He looks just like Gaear Grimsrud!

9:10 - That's it for Burnett. Might be it for Lee, too. What time is the replay of Mad Men tonight?

9:15 - David Robertson should just walk around with a bomb strapped to his chest...

9:18 - Hmmm... how can I make it through this game? Spider solitaire? The nine beers left over from our party on Saturday? The quarter bottle of Delsym in the med cabinet? Hang out with-- shit, she fell asleep. Maybe I'll scrub the kitchen floor. On Ambien.

9:21 - I know!! I'll add some more crap to our FreshDirect order!

9:32 - That was kind of a bust. All I added were some pineapple chunks; I was unable to order the Chipotle-lime chicken w/rice for tomorrow's delivery.

9:33 - Hilarious dugout interview with Joe Girardi: (on Burnett) "Yeah, he didn't have the command he had last game... his fastball and breaking ball weren't working..." He sucked.

9:37 - What a snooze-fest! No, really. My wife's snoring, and I can sorta hear Jr. rumbling away in his room. That Delsym's sounding mighty smart right now.

9:42 - Hmmm... what's in the fridge?

9:48 - OK, I've decided on a tab of Ambien, a shot of Jager, an old Saturday puzzle and a bag of Goldfish crackers. I'll call it The Missouri Compromise.

9:52 - Nice foul-up by JB: "In comes Alfredo Aceves, who hasn't pitched since game 2 of the ALCS on October 17th. Except, of course, when he appeared in game 3 on October 19th and was charged with the loss..."

9:54 - Youchhh! Gardner just slammed into the wall. Swisher came over and checked on him, like "You OK man? Not that we have anyone to bring in for you if you're not, but... you sure you're OK?"

9:59 - They should run a crawl at the bottom of every game with a computer-generated stream of stat-based factoids. Stuff like "no team has ever blown a 5-run lead at home in game 5 while trying to repeat as World Series champs in an odd non-leap year against a team employing a 3-man rotation containing two lefties..."

10:04 - I'm watching baseball at 10pm in goddamn November!!! What the hell has happened to this country??!!!

10:06 - Speaking of civic outrage, I'm officially boycotting tomorrow's election. This shit that Bloomberg pulled is outrageous. The guy he's running against seems even worse, so I'm refusing to vote. I ALWAYS vote (I even voted twice in a single election once... as both a male AND female!).

10:27 - Just wandered around for about 20 minutes. Did a few dishes, had a few laughs. I also ate a giant handful of candy corn out of a bowl in the foyer-- not recommended.

10:30 - God, I hope I don't stay up until 11:30 just to watch us lose by 4 runs. That's just not something I can afford to do anymore.

10:33 - So Utley's gonna hit like 20 home runs in this Series.

10:36 - Cool! Phil "Spruce Goose" Hughes is warming up.

10:37 - Once you have a 3-1 lead in a series, your best bet really is to talk as much shit as humanly possible. In the unlikely event that you actually blow the series, you'll be so utterly devastated that people thinking you're an idiot is the very least of your worries. I learned this lesson in 2004... I skulked around for a week, terrified, when I could been insulting dimwits in varying conditions of vulnerability and having a great time.

10:49 - Whoa... starting to fade a little bit here. I just woulda swore that Mark Teixeira was Ralph Macchio.

10:51 - Some more A-Rod magic! We're only down by 4!

10:54 - My battery's about to go. If you lose me unexpectedly, it could be due to many things, probably all at once. I'm going to get a popsicle.

11:04 - Wow, this Ambien/Jager combo's awesome. I'm calling it The Roadmeister.

Yankees 4, Angels 3

I had my doubts about this game even being played at all. I mean, I knew they'd eventually play the game, but probably not Saturday. The fact that they were so wrong about the weather for Friday made me worry even more-- perhaps the rain was just "saving up" for a Saturday typhoon.

Well, the weather pretty much held up. I was absolutely exhausted by mid-afternoon, after getting up at the crack of dawn with Jr. with a head-splitter and a bottle of expired Advil. I got him down for a nap somehow at around 1:30, and worked for a few hours. The kid woke up at around 4, literally "screaming for vengeance." He had one of those night terror wake-ups where he's absolutely inconsolable for 15 minutes or so, which is a lot like me when FreshDirect delivers a broken six-pack of beer. The kid was completely calmed down by the time the sitter arrived.

Mz and I made the bus in decent time, and descended into the bowels of 125th St with what seemed like ample time to make pre-game ceremonies. Few stations in the system deserve to be described using the word "bowels" more than the 125th A/B/C/D station. I'll just leave it at that.

Bowels or no bowels, the platform was totally packed. Like, "something's wrong" packed. We didn't even bother trying to board this train, which Mz accurately ranked a "5" on the five-point crowd scale. We got on the next one pretty easily, and Mz even got offered a seat by a nice young girl. The girl's mom (sister? aunt?) immediately retracted the offer, barking, "No, she was sitting there!" Our simultaneous two-headed reply was:

MZ - "she offered me the seat..."
LEE - "my wife's six months pregnant!"

Mz got the seat and we made it in just in time to see Tino toss the first pitch. I really liked our seats, even though we were in extreme right field. The Terrace seats at the new Stadium are kinda awesome, no matter where they are.

Too bad I was sitting next to an enormous woman (wedged in would be more accurate). She was like a beanbag chair stuffed into a small garbage can, but with big arms sticking out the sides. She seemed nice enough, but the angle I was forced to sit at crimped my sciatic nerve to the point of agony. The woman also ate at least two sausages, which I easily could have taken bites of without her noticing.

It was very cold. I talked the beer lady into letting me keep the cap of my plastic beer, with hopes of being able to carry the beer around in my pocket. Our seats were right in line with the supposed "jetstream" to right field, so wind was certainly a factor. We ended up seeking shelter in the Yankees Museum, as did other wussies. I saw one funny guy standing outside the Museum slurping two 20 oz. beers while his kid stood inside trying to get warm.

I guess we saw a few funny things. Some lunatic was walking around in a green spandex bodysuit, totally straight-faced. Mz said she thought she saw him getting kicked out; I figured he probably had to take a piss and got caught half-naked in the restroom.

Also caught a hilarious "incident" brewing near our seats. Some totally drunk girl had apparently been asked to leave the game (kicked out), and was screaming "I didn't do nothing! I didn't do nothing!" A few minutes later it escalated into an APB situation with about a dozen security guards involved. The legendary "Angel of Death" was among the first responders, and seemed to be an escalating force in the developing chaos. In fact, she herself had to be physically restrained and removed from the fracas.

We wanted to stay for this little show, but the cold was becoming too much to bear. Funny how being really cold is a lot like being really drunk-- we kept getting split up, buying weird foods, wandering around... finally we just had to leave. We made it through the bottom of the ninth, and just couldn't do it any longer. I imagined all the things I might miss: more heroics from A-Rod? (yep) Bullpen jitters all around? (totally) Ronan Tynan storming the field, hobbling around and screaming about "the damned conspiracy"? (not that I know of)

We figured we could still catch the bottom of the tenth in a cab home from 125th, and possibly even catch some at home if we're lucky. The D took for-fucking-ever, so we were a bit behind our plans. We just missed the Angels scoring in the top of the 11th, but made it home in time to see A-Rod's dong right in our own living room. Things got kinda sloppy from there, but obviously turned out alright.

Yankees 3, Red Sox 0

Can't remember the last time I walked into a Yanks-Sox game with this much swagger. Stagger, maybe, but not so much swagger. It's good to be the fucking king.

Had a particularly tiring morning at home, and then headed up to the Stadium super-early with Chuck S. My old buddy from LI was working the scoreboard for the evening and invited us up for a quick tour. Pretty insane control room-- or as they say in the biz, totally fused up.

So we got a 10-minute crash course in digital sports production, which left us a bit dazed. I was only able to muster up one lame joke about VHS porn tapes, which wasn't even acknowledged. We were spit out into the 200-level hallway at 2:30 with 90 minutes to kill before game time.

Seemed like a perfect chance to check out Tommy Bahama's, the Stadium's full cocktail bar. I can't recommend this move highly enough for all you fans out there. An $11 T & T is a splendid way to kick off a ballgame. We felt classy, refreshed, and even a little tipsy. I advise getting out before further rounds of drinks.

Justice Sotomayor threw a marginal but acceptable first pitch, and we were underway. Chuck and I beefed up our usual "dollar game" by picking two Yanks apiece and two Sox for each other. I got stuck with Ellsbury and Baldelli, along with my own picks of Teixeira & Matsui. Not a great money day for Lee, but I did benefit from a bizarre A-Rod double-play.

CC dominated to the point of numbness. We spent most of the game discussing absurd music lists like "bands that had two different eras of success with two completely different lead singers" and "drummers that subsequently fronted new bands and played an instrument that wasn't the drums." This was obviously a complete blast.

At one point my buddy in the booth had me and Chuck on the giant scoreboard camera for something like 10 seconds, which we were completely oblivious to. The non-existent audio track was "OK, I can see Genesis but Gabriel and Phil were actually in the band at the same time, so it really doesn't compare to AC/DC or Van Halen. There has to be some criteria separating the different eras, or else we're looking at a lot of gray area..."

Not much else to report, although I did find the "HUUUUUUUUUUUGHES!!!" chants absolutely ridiculous. I get "MOOOOOOOSE!!!" and even "YOOOOOOOOOK!!!" but this just sounds stupid.

The humiliation of Billy Wagner was quite enjoyable. I suffered through a terrible game at Shea a few years ago where "Sandman II" out-closed "Sandman" in brutal fashion. Wouldn't it be fun if like six different closers in the majors came out to "Enter Sandman"? I'd still like to see Mariano experiment with Slayer's "Angel of Death" a few times, just to shake things up a bit.

Almost tempted to throw back a few at the Dugout afterwards, but we thought better and headed right home for more music lists ("bands that are named after a member who isn't the lead singer") and other silly stuff. I was barely conscious for today's 1:00 sports bonanza, which the City of New York swept in majestic fashion. It's good to be the fucking king.

A-Rod "Man of the Year" Caption Contest!

Imagine my delight when I re-stumbled upon this fantastic photo of A-Rod taken by the Mz!

In honor of A-Rod's nomination for the Marvin Miller "Man of the Year" contest, let's have a little contest of our own! Comment your funniest caption for the photo below, and I'll choose a winner to be proudly displayed at the top of my blog for the rest of the season. Hell, maybe for the rest of eternity!

Captions are due by Sunday, September 20th. I reserve the right to choose my own idea if I deem it funnier than anyone else's.

Yankees 10, White Sox 0

For at least the third time this season, I wasn't all that jazzed about hiking up for today's game. My original plan was to bring the boy for Calculator Day, but he's been kinda croupy (croupie?) lately. Plus, I just bought him a flip-style calculator at Staples the other day.

I was still home twiddling my thumbs at around 12:30, occasionally clicking weather forecasts and nursing a Diet Mountain Dew. Finally I said "Fuck it," and headed up to the Stadium (as opposed to saying "Fuck it," and staying home).

My only ideas for dealing with the boredom/agony of a Sergio Mitre start and potential rain delay were (1) taking two Ambiens and working on the Saturday puzzle, or (2) keeping a running account of things and working on the Saturday puzzle. [I'm only now realizing that choice (3), namely both (1) and (2) at the same time, would have been by far the best idea.]

Here's option (2), at least for a few innings:

1:20 - The usual lady at my beer booth greeted me this time with, "Another Guinness?" even though I just walked into the Stadium.

1:23 - I'm nurturing a tiny little "Hey, who knows what might happen up here today?!" feeling in my gut, even though I ended up taking two Advils instead of sleeping pills. Teixeira and A-Rod strike out to end the inning.

1:32 - I love this kind of weather for baseball: cool and misty, like Niagara Falls. Reminds me of so many blissfully drunk baseball games with my wife, even though I don't think we had such a great time when we went to Niagara Falls.

1:35 - Just noticed that the team pennants (in order of standings) are completely different than they used to be at the old Stadium. Now they're arranged semi-cirularly around the top along the home plate side (I think they used to be along the very top of the bleacher wall). They may have also added some new flags-- The first four I see are (1) the United States flag, (2) a black P.O.W. flag, (3) a purple flag of some kind, perhaps an Excelsior state flag, and (4) the Italian national flag. I'm not sure about (4); I'll look into it at some point.

1:37 - Again, the rainy weather's totally reminding me of the Mz... I hope that's not weird.

1:40 - I'm sitting next to a guy (Yankee hat) with his girlfriend (Red Sox hat)-- he's got that embarassed-but-hey-we're-both-just-really-big-baseball-fans look on his face. Not to be confused with the why-the-hell-did-I-ever-agree-to-any-of-this look.

1:41 - Cano gets a well-deserved round of applause before his first at bat of the game.

1:44 - I've always been fascinated by White Sox fans, mainly because I'd never in my life met an actual White Sox fan until a few years ago (a little before their championship). Kinda like being fascinated by Pygmies or hammerhead sharks, I guess.

1:46 - I may have been wrong about the Red Sox girlfriend-- she's been fiddling around with what appear to be brand new (and uncomfortable) sandals for the entire game. Now she's eating an ice cream sundae out of a little plastic Yankee hat. Bandwagon fan!!! Assholes!!!

1:47 - Jose Contreras is getting whacked around a bit here in the 2nd inning. Having this guy pitch for your team is like having a light fixture in your house that only works 15% of the time (which we happen to have in the back of our apartment).

1:50 - Here comes the second Red Sox hat of the afternoon, this time on the head of a small child. Children under the age of six, the elderly, and the severly disabled are the only Boston fans I excuse from harassment. I once spit on the back of a female college student wearing a Sox hat on Broadway. Gimme a break, it was the morning after game 7 of the 2004 ALCS...

1:55 - Hilarious... Alex Rios hails from "Coffee, AL" according to the Yankee scoreboard, as in
"Coffee, Al?"
"Sure, Flo."

1:58 - A guy sitting next to me (not the Sox girl's boyfriend) just asked me who I'm reporting for-- I guess I've been scribbling on scraps of paper. What I should have said was, "I write for bomberbitches.com. I'm cataloguing the underage titties in the Stadium today." What I actually said was, "I write for a sports blog."

2:03 - Robinson Cano... he's so hot right now.

2:05 - The guys next to me asked if I'm "writing in shorthand." Nobody can read my note-taking handwriting, occasionally including myself.

2:10 - I came to the rather embarassing realization yesterday morning that EVERY pair of white socks I own contains at least one major hole. This is like finding out that your entire CD collection is scratched; first sorrow, then suspicion. How could this possibly happen?

2:12 - Can we now safely say that Mitre is pitching brilliantly? Maybe I'll loudly exclaim, "Mitre is pitching brilliantly," to no one in particular.

2:13 - No reaction at all from anyone.

2:16 - Absolutely no doubt in my mind that Jeter's astounding season is a direct result of the anti-Jeter sentiments expressed by Bill Simmons near the beginning of this season.

2:20 - Man, that was funny-- might be tough to explain. The guy sitting right behind me (not from NY) just responded to a vendor's cry of "Peanuts!!!?" with a query of his own, "Are the peanuts salted?!" The vendor let out a sideways "Nah," and winged a sack of nuts at the guys from about 10 rows down. The bag was way short and splashed into a puddle of water/beer/soda two rows in front of the customer. The transaction came to an awkward halt, until the guy crawled down and retrieved the nuts. He then paid for his unsalted snack.

2:30 - I just saw a "Different House, Same Result" t-shirt... isn't it a bit too soon for that one?

2:32 - Well, there goes Mitre's no-hitter. I'm going to take a piss.

I left pretty much right after this. Yes, I'll forever be known as the guy that left early during the Mitre-Gaudin one-hitter. I think I can live with that.

"In play, run(s)"

As many of you already know, the Mz & I have been without cable for (almost exactly!) a year now. Our decision to "snip the wire" sprang from several events last summer:

1) It became apparent that the Noggin channel provided Jr. with pacification and stimulation far superior to anything we could possibly provide. I was also showing signs of addiction to the program Oswald.

2) We had brunch with some friends who cancelled their cable years ago. They seemed perfectly happy and normal.

3) There was no way the Yankees were making the playoffs.

So we did the unthinkable. TV was officially and irrevocably out of our lives. It took me about 7 minutes to completely catalog the channels we still got from Time Warner (not bad, actually: the basics plus TNT (long gone), TBS (lost it about two weeks ago), CSPAN2 (?!), and other odds & ends).

So how does one get by when one roots for the best team in Major League Baseball and can't watch the fucking games? Of course I see the games I actually attend, plus the channel 9 games and the dreaded Fox games, but that don't add up to much. How exactly does one get by?

Like a castaway developing a taste for raw starfish, I actually enjoy the MLB Gameday service. Pretty much all the major sports have something like this going on, but this one really might be the best. It certainly beats the hell out of ESPN's awful MLB Gamecast, which is about as exciting as watching a ballgame out the window of an airplane.

Here's an example of how Gameday expertly builds suspense for the viewer: note the "In play, run(s)" in Jeter's result column. We don't really know what happened now, do we?! I mean, we know Jeter knocked in at least one run, obviously (I sure hope so-- bases loaded, no outs), but was it a single? Grand slam? Double play? Those 5 or 6 seconds of anticipation are indescribable-- you know something good has happened, and the only question is just how good is it? Quite different from the 5 or 6 seconds of anticipation you get when you're tuned in to WCBS 880 and Sterling's not sure if the ball's out of the park, foul, or caught.

Here's another one. "In play, no out" is good, but no run(s) were scored or else it would've said "In play, run(s)"... get it? If symbolic logic wasn't your strong suit in college, you should probably just stick with Michael Kay.

Gameday also allows you to control the perspective of the "camera" on the "batter." The first shot here gives you the best possible view of Derek Jeter's ass available to the general public.

I prefer this next one, which I developed one stoney night at the computer. Here, our sight line originates about fifty feet underground somewhere out past second base. The brown disc-outline is actually the pitcher's mound, as seen from beneath. In this particular case, I saw the mound as a giant spaceship visiting Yankee Stadium with the sole purpose of abducting Nick Swisher before he could strike out or hit into a double play.

Check out the graphic display of tension here for Hairston's epic 12-pitch at bat and eventual walk. I'll take this over the idiotic "pitch-by-pitch" garbage they peddle on TV any day of the week (except Saturdays, when I usually get to watch the game on TV).

Plus you get the awesome spattering of red strikes & green balls. My main complaint here is that you don't get a special graphic when the batter is drilled by a pitch... some kind of splotch or throbbing circle would be great. Might be enough to make me want to watch Joba Chamberlain pitch on MLB Gameday!

Gameday isn't without its quirks and annoyances. Circled in blue down below is a shiny, juicy button that no human could possibly resist pushing, especially when it promises to deliver digital footage of Mark Teixeira driving home two runs. All you get is a prompt asking you to sign up (and pay) for Gameday Premium service.

Under that, circled in red, is an "Injury Delay" update message. Who got injured? What happened?! Usually we never know.

Underlined in green is a perfectly clear, unambigous and unsurprising piece of news.

Sometimes Gameday does weird shit, like this message "Pitcher Change: Jason Jennings replaces Jason Jennings." If I had a dime for every time I wanted to replace a pitcher with a better version of himself!!

Win Some, Lose Some

Another one of those fun-filled blog diaries of Fox's Saturday afternoon coverage. I don't think I'll last too long here, as Jr. should be waking up somewhere around the 4th inning.

4:10 - Well, Junichi "Lunchmeat" Tazawa is off to a somewhat shaky start. Fox's Sprint Pitcher Profile didn't have much info except "must have pinpoint accuracy" or something like that.
4:17 - Tim McCarver just made the first of what will surely be many dumb Japan jokes.
4:22 - They're talking about Burnett's rocky relationship with Jorge... have any of our good pitchers actually gotten along with Jorge?
4:24 - Well, A. J. Burnett's off to a somewhat shaky start. I'm guessing 15+ total runs today.
4:27 - PLEEEEEAAAAASSSSE nail Ortiz in the fucking neck... or at least the ribs. Don't ask questions, just do it!
4:29 - Ortiz slaps a double into left. See?? Just do it!
4:31 - I was really hoping Jeter would show up in a Manny-style wig for his first at-bat today. Jim Rice is such a fucking idiot.
4:36 - I read somebody talking about Pedroia and Youkilis being real "throwback" players. Evolutionary throwbacks, perhaps? A small tidepool was struck by lightning, filling the prehistoric cave with ion-charged ozone...
4:40 - Figures-- the one time Jorge actually goes 1st to 3rd, Cano lollygags his way on and off the basepaths.
4:42 - Eric Hinske's kind of a neanderthal version of the King of Queens guy, if that's possible.
4:48 - I'm reading The Bad Guys Won! by Jeff Pearlman (great material, lousy writing)... the PE consumption of the '04 Sox was probably a miniscule fraction of the booze, coke, speed and nicotine swallowed up by the '86 Mets.
4:55 - Carl Crawford better steal a few tonight.
4:56 - McCarver just shared some dumb anecdote about Pedroia having the "look of a winner." How about the look of a scumbag?
4:57 - Man, Burnett's tough to watch when he stinks like this. Can we please win one of these stupid fucking Fox games?
5:00 - Jorge's "conference" with Burnett really seemed to work... Youkilis just ripped one ovah the Monstah.
5:01 - Wow, that makes eighteen runs allowed by Burnett at Fenway this season.
5:10 - Shit, Jr.'s up.

The boy made it pretty darn clear that he didn't want to watch this crappy game, and I agreed. We watched Peppa Pig and did some word processing instead. This was one of Jr.'s more inspired works; reverent yet open to sudden bursts of inspiration:

Yankees 5, Red Sox 0

What a wonderful day for a baseball game. Jr. was taking a nap, 75 degrees, no plans-- so I grabbed the Mz and we headed up to the Bronx. Yes, we got a fucking babysitter!

I'm assuming nobody out there will be turning down invitations to join me at a Yanks-Sox game anymore because I'm "bad luck"... let's cancel that shit right now. If I have a little time tonight, I'll dig up my all-time stats at home against Boston (I won't include my 3-1 record at Fenway).

I'll also note that my behavior during CC's perfect/no-no stretch yesterday was beyond reproach. It's possible that I cost Mike Mussina his perfect game at Fenway by drunkenly (and blindly-- I forgot my glasses) cavorting around the bleachers saying things like, "Hey, did he walk anybody yet?" I sat like a statue and said virtually nothing, ignoring all calls and texts (except the babysitter looking for coffee filters) until Ellsbury's hit.

We obviously enjoyed the game. Also nice not drinking gallons of beer and running up and down the grandstand like a fool. I once went almost an entire season in the bleachers without drinking (yes, before the beer ban) and had a great damn time. I'll get back to you on this one.

Again, we have a state-of-the-art scoreboard that shows 50-foot pictures of Kevin Youkilis's face.

Highlight of the afternoon was a guy out in front of the Stadium playing the Yes network theme song on his clarinet. I almost gave him ten bucks. Instead I gave the ten bucks to the popcorn lady inside.

I gotta sound off about this Josh Hamilton story. Turns out the guy had a wild night in Tempe, AZ way back in January. According to reports, he "became drunk" and was involved in "lurid poses" with "several women, not including his wife" (at first I thought that meant that his wife was actually there, but he just wasn't posing luridly with her). This photo completely backs up the story:

We all know about J-Ham's struggles with booze, drugs, (religion?) and other ills of society. We also know about his remarkable comeback last year, which peaked with a spectacular HR Derby display at the old Yankee Stadium (not to mention wreaking total havoc on our baseball pool for a period of time). Facing the horrific gauntlet of press apologies, opposing fans, and (I imagine) his wife, the man simply came out and explained the situation openly and honestly.

I happen to know a little bit about what this guy's going through right now. I was involved in an unfortunate situation a while back where similar photos leaked out of yours truly celebrating a grueling series of studio sessions in Frankfurt. The photo below has made plenty of orbits in cyberspace-- I'll spare you (and myself) some of the other ones. I know that Googling "kebab mazzola naked" and "monkey prostitute germany" used to hit a few of the more "lurid" photos, but those are long gone.

Anyway, I also had to own up to magazines and my professional community about the shocking photos. Turned out that other session guys didn't really give a shit (at least not in Germany), and the fanzines left it alone after a few weeks as well. I actually almost got a Jagermeister endorsement out of the whole affair, but that fell through after one of their reps saw that photo with the girls and the shuffleboard chalk, which I guess crossed some sort of line.

I guess these kinds of things are just among the many prices that come with celebrity. Or maybe celebrity is just the price of being really fucked up all the time.

Yankees 13, Red Sox 6

Hats off to Heath Bieferman for taking me to tonight's blowout in the Bronx. I guess it was a "Heath's-birthday/jeez-we-haven't-been-to-a-game-in-a-while/Yanks-are-fucking-due" kind of event.

It's possible that I've seen the Yankees beat Boston more often than not, but it sure doesn't feel that way. That's why Heath's gesture was so kind-- a bit like bringing a broken mirror with you to bingo night. Maybe I'll actually bring a broken mirror on Saturday, even if it might be tough to get past security.

We've heard a million times about how the new Stadium's "not the same" as the old. No shit!!! Anyway, tonight's game was certainly tamer than usual for Boston. I guess the excitement starts to fade after the hundredth or so game in 5 years. Throw in the fact that the games are minimum four hours a pop, and we're talking about some serious face time together.

The razzing of Ortiz was an inevitable letdown (he wasn't showered with syringes), but still kinda fun. He stranded nine runners, and looked terrible doing so. Safe to say Big Papi won't be horsing around in the dugout with styrofoam cups on his ears anytime soon...

Seats were great, except for the jackass standing almost directly in front of me for two innings. I guess he was buddies with the cop in our section (whose uniform was decorated more like a pilot than a police officer), which apparently gave him the right to stand in front of people and step on their feet every 5 minutes or so. I was about to say something (oooh, how brave of me!) when the jerk finally moved and sat in his seat about 10 feet away!! Ugh.

Still not sure what was going on with Posada's getting thrown out at home (Jorge just might catch Wang on the "Worst Yankee baserunners" list, which would make him a genuinely awful baserunner.), and Joba was downright maddening. Maybe the kid needs to fly back to Nebraska for some more time away.

I'm feeling good about Saturday's game. Not sure if that's a good thing.

Yankees 2, Tigers 1

[warning: this post contains explicit descriptions of medical conditions and procedures that some may find disturbing or just plain gross. click here for a somewhat cleaner account of the same game from Left Field.]

Charlie Simone made the trip down to the city for a nice weekend with the Mazzolas. We're still recovering from an exhausting vacation "down South". Despite an invitation to a fun, fun party out in Brooklyn, we decided to stay in for a nice night of burgers, Bud cans and baseball trivia.

We should've been reasonably well-rested for Saturday afternoon's Yanks-Tigers game. I got up at about 6:30 in anticipation of LJ's waking, and tried to squeeze in some computer time and general straightening up. The boy was up at 7:00, so we hung out and ate breakfast while Chuck and the Mz got a few extra hours of sleep.

Charles and I took LJ out to the park from about 9:30 to 11:30, giving my wife some valuable work time. Finding time to work out of your home with a little kid around ain't easy, and requires creative but strict scheduling. We're still learning how to do this at the Mazzola household.

So we had a lovely time watching LJ swing and bang and stumble around the park in what felt like high 80's in the sun. I was getting pretty beat already, and we were still two hours from first pitch. We got the boy home safely, and made our way up to the stadium.

As you well know, my new Saturday seats are way the fuck up in the Grandstand section. Not bad, but way the fuck up. I've been taking steps (or less steps) to make sure I'm not climbing up and down the upper deck every ten minutes, and one way to do this is to sit in other people's seats. I've always hated doing this, but you do whatcha gotta do, right? We sat in the same 2nd or 3rd row seats of my section that Gritt and I used in my last game (the one where I burned the shit out of myself). We even had sunblock this time, but were immediatedly booted out of the seats by a couple of Tigers fans. We looked around and didn't see many open areas of seats, and trudged up to our proper seats in lower Kathmandu.

It's nice and cool up there (in Kathmandu), but kind of a pain in the ass. We're right in the middle of an aisle (kinda like being stuck between China and India), so it's always awkward to run down and get beer, food, bathroom, etc. You know the drill. So you end up in sort of extreme states of being: thirsty, hungry, too much beer, too many cardboard/plastic containers, gotta piss, etc. (kinda like climbing Mt. Everest without all the equipment).

The game itself was pretty great. Coney threw out the first pitch to Joe Girardi in commemoration of his perfect game ten years ago. Could CC Sabathia duplicate Cone's historic feat today?

Not with me in the building. It wasn't pretty, but CC did a fine job stymieing the Detroit offense. Verlander completely shut us down (with the exception of Jeter) until later in the game when A-Rod kinda blooped a weird home run to right (called a "timely tater" by the Yanks site). A borderline cheapo run gave us a 2-1 win, complete with save by Mariano.

We spent most of our time drinking Guinness and sorting out unfinished trivia questions, like "Who says 'Subdivisions...' in the song "Subdivisions"? I immediately answered "Neil Peart" (apparently incorrect) and the rest of us went with "Alex Lifeson" (probably incorrect as well). Thanks to AP and Frank Rose for the correct answer. Our other questions included players who won multiple MVPs at different positions, and teams whose names could effectively be used as slang for women's breasts. It was a day of rich discussion.

As always, the beer sales were cut off at precisely the end of the 7th inning. I think we're only beginning to understand the supernatural powers of the new Yankee Stadium, because my bladder's ability to evacuate waste was also shut down at this exact moment. Very interesting timing.

To make a long story short, Simone and I hopped in a car service from River Ave to in hopes of getting home in time to help out with LJs nightly routines. I had to piss so fucking bad in the car that I devised emergency plans every time we stopped at a light. Not "excuse me, can we make a quick stop at this Starbucks up here" but simply jumping out of the car and peeing on the curb. The pain was so great that I knew I wouldn't be able to walk reasonably, let alone stand on a damn bathroom line. I buckled down and just waited for home.

The car pulled over across the street, and Chuck helped me across the four-lane drive to my apartment. I couldn't walk at all, and I actually fell on the ground in front of an oncoming car. We looked like a scene recreation from The Deer Hunter, except we were wearing Yankee hats instead of torn bandanas. I commanded Chuck to just dump me into the stairwell in front of my building, where I could theoretically piss in a drainage grate while Chuck ran around and let me in from inside. The rivers still weren't flowing, so I writhed in agony and waited. We finally got into my place and I hunkered down in the bathroom for what seemed like hours, doubled over in agony.

A conference between the Mz and my doctor(s) produced a plan that would circumvent the bureaucratic hell of an emergency room (thank Jesus!), involving a cab crosstown (us) and a duck-out from hospital rounds to personal office (my doctor, on a Saturday, mind you). This is why my specialist is the best fucking doctor in New York at what he does-- he always puts his patients first.

Meanwhile, Charles is putting LJ to bed back home. I'm happy to report that he did an absolutely stellar job. Jr already likes Chuck, so we never expected anything less. I don't think a Purple Heart would really be appropriate for Simone's clutch performance(s) after the game, but maybe a Purple Spoon might make more sense.

I mewled in quiet agony for the surprisingly quick car trip to the east side, and staggered into the office and onto a medical table for the covert procedure (I almost felt like DeNiro in Ronin). There's little you can do as a patient to prepare for certain invasive medical procedures, so why try? I couldn't watch the whole catheter performance from my lousy view, but I bet it was kinda funny: me trying not to come off as a complete pussy, while my wife helped with clamping or elevating or whatever she had to do while my doctor siphoned almost two liters of wawa out through my weewee. The relief was instantaneous and beautiful on my end; I can't speak for the "beauty" witnessed by Mz and doc.

I was immediately hooked up to an IV mega-steroid drip, probably much like the one that revitalized Big Papi's offensive production this June. Pretty soon I was joking around with my wife, actually drinking water, and hooking monster home runs into right field at Fenway.

Probably gonna skip our next game against the A's so I can rest up for the next August game. By then I should be able to piss all over whatever I want, whenever I want. Bring on the Red Sox!!!

Yankees 6, Blue Jays 5

Totally forgot about this game until a couple of days ago... it's been a busy June (as always) and a heckuva busy July. Fortunately, my buddy Grit cares about the 4th of July about as much as I do and had no plans for the afternoon.

I had high hopes for the event, as "festivities" were planned in honor of Lou Gehrig and general awareness about ALS. I was stoned out of my mind at a game seven years ago when James Gandolfini read the "luckiest man" speech before the first pitch. A surreal moment, to say the least. Who would they pick to deliver the speech this year? My money was on Mike Francesa, while Grit was rooting for Joe Pesci. I had Chazz Palminteri as a dark, dark horse.

All for naught, as the speech was hacked to bits by members of the Yanks on the scoreboard. True Yankees like Nick Swisher got to pay their tributes to the Iron Horse in what seemed more like a promotional spot than a heartfelt reading. I guess I shouldn't complain, but...

Then it got a lot more uncomfortable. They did a little piece on a guy who actually has ALS, and then wheeled him out to throw the first pitch. Pretty moving, but then they had to announced that he would be pitching underhand because of the devastating effects of his disease. Were they afraid we'd boo the freaking guy?! Maybe at a Knicks game, but not in the Stadium!

While I'm at it, apparently we've installed the world's most expensive video screen so fans can see a transciption of the lyrics to the Outfield's "Your Love" while we try to enjoy a baseball game.

Pretty mellow game, at least until the end. Most of the drama was supplied by a poor mom dropping her tray of fries right in the entrance to our section, splashing ketchup all over the stairs. Her white pants didn't help the situation. Happy to report that the Stadium's crack staff was right on detail, mopping up the red mess within minutes of the accident. They also made sure to warn oncoming foot traffic about the messy area.

This might be the best thing about our new Bronx digs- the support services. I've had nothing but the best experiences with strollers, beer, bathrooms, you name it! Even the dumb ones do everything with such aplomb! Some lovely lady even took me and Grit's picture while we were standing around drinking beer, and gave us a card with a link to the photo! On top of that, we've been offered the option to purchase prints, engraved fridge magnets and other pieces bearing our collective likeness for prices ranging from $14.99 to $349.99! Let's go Yankees!!!

We had our usual rock critic back-and-forth during the middle innings, this time fueled by a Classic Albums installment featuring Lou Reed's Transformer. Remember Rolling Stones "Top 100 Albums" list from '87? Well, we sure do. That was good for a solid 30 minutes of rock-wank. Great fun.

Anyway, we ended up with our second walk-off Saturday game together- 2 for 2 on the year. Maybe we'll make one more trip together near the end of the season for one of the Sox games... Reverse the Curse!!!

Into the Groove

I still have a few contacts from the old days in the biz, and every once in a while I get some good inside shit. Here's an unbelievable list for you (sorry, but I can't reveal my source)...

MLB PLAYERS WHO SLEPT WITH MADONNA:
1.Nomar Garciaparra
2.Manny Ramirez
3.Johnny Damon
4.Trot Nixon
5.David Ortiz
6.Shea Hillenbrand
7.Derek Lowe
8.Pedro Martinez
9.Brian Roberts
10.Jay Gibbons (that's impressive!)
11.Melvin Mora
12.Jerry Hairston
13.Jason Giambi (drunk, no doubt)
14.Alfonso Soriano
15.Raul Mondesi
16.Aaron Boone (partying after game 7 '93 ALCS)
17.Andy Pettitte
18.Jose Contreras
19.Roger Clemens (threesome)
20.Carlos Delgado
21.Vernon Wells
22.Frank Catalanotto
23.Kenny Rogers
24.Magglio Ordonez
25.Sandy Alomar
26.Bartolo Colon
27.Brent Abernathy
28.Jose Lima (wow!)
29.Milton Bradley
30.Casey Blake
31.Danys Baez
32.Craig Monroe
33.Dmitri Young
34.Alex Sanchez
35.Eric Chavez
36.Miguel Tejada
37.Eric Byrnes (in ESPN dressing room)
38.Jose Guillen
39.Keith Foulke
40.Ricardo Rincon
41.Bret Boone
42.Mike Cameron (four times!)
43.Randy Winn
44.Ryan Franklin
45.Freddy Garcia
46.Rafael Soriano
47.Scott Spiezio
48.Troy Glaus
49.Francisco Rodriguez (fist pump?)
50.Ben Weber
51.Alex Rodriguez (duh!)
52.Juan Gonzalez (ouch!)
53.Rafael Palmeiro (finger wave?)
54.Carl Everett
55.Javy Lopez
56.Gary Sheffield
57.Mike Hampton
58.Ivan Rodriguez
59.Derrek Lee
60.Bobby Abreu
61.Terry Adams
62.Fernando Tatis
63.Livan Hernandez
64.Hector Almonte
65.Tony Armas
66.Dan Smith
67.Roberto Alomar (spit?)
68.Cliff Floyd
69.Roger Cedeno
70.Jeromy Burnitz
71.Moises Alou
72.Sammy Sosa
73.Corey Patterson
74.Carlos Zambrano
75.Mark Prior
76.Kerry Wood
77.Matt Clement
78.Antonio Alfonseca
79.Juan Cruz
80.Aramis Ramirez
81.Craig Wilson
82.Kris Benson (threesome?? please??!!)
83.Richie Sexson (ouch!)
84.Geoff Jenkins
85.Valerio de los Santos
86.Benito Santiago
87.Rich Aurilia
88.Barry Bonds (never proven)
89.Andres Galarraga (aw jeez...)
90.Jason Schmidt
91.Felix Rodriguez
92.Jason Christiansen
93.Matt Herges
94.Paul Lo Duca
95.Shawn Green
96.Oliver Perez
97.Adrian Beltre
98.Eric Gagne (lotsa times in a row!)
99.Guillermo Mota
100.Luis Gonzalez (argghhhh...)
101.Todd Helton
102.Ryan Klesko
103.Gary Matthews
104.Jose Canseco (duh!)

Mets 6, Yankees 2

Got to spend most of the day with Lee Jr, which was awesome. Had a mild panic attack when the boy almost took a header off the jungle gym at Totlot 116.

The Mz got home around 3pm, and I left for the game soon after. Kinda weird, but I went to the Subway Series myself this year. I guess that's part of being a season ticket holder-- you reserve the right to say "Fuck it, I'm going myself today."

3:27 In the five minutes it took me to walk up to the bus stop I went from "eh, it's not so bad out" to "better put on my jacket" to "Jesus, it's pouring out!" This is the same continuum one follows when listening to any post-Lovesexy Prince album for the first time (from "hey, this is pretty good" to "jeez..." to "turn this fucking shit off!").

3:44 An unbearable stench of unknown origin was present at the 125th St subway stop. People were gagging, covering their noses, and frantically walking around in hopes of getting away from the stink. Either somebody died somewhere or someone was about to.

3:50 A gaggle of tragically underdressed girls got on at 145th, wearing navy blue short shorts and tank tops. They were literally freezing their asses off.

4:09 Took the express elevator up and immediately picked up a cup of Guinness right across from the stairs to my seats. It's a wonderful stadium.

4:10 OK, not the best pour I've ever had, but still hitting the spot.

4:12 Hey, Luis Castillo's leading off!

4:14 Even in the pouring rain, my seats are as dry as Don Henley's snare drum.

4:16 My section is pretty lame: cadavers and Met fans. Seriously, the average age for at least five rows is about 63. Not sure if it makes me feel younger or older.

4:25 TRIVIA #1: Name all the Muslim major leaguers in history.

4:26 This is looking like a long afternoon here. Maybe I should leave right now and catch the 5:00 showing of The Hangover.

4:38 Why hasn't there been a remake of Bachelor Party? Or maybe there has?

4:39 We've certainly lost the intimidation factor here at Yankee Stadium-- it's about as threatening as Epcot Center.

4:41 Two couples just got booted out of their wrong seats, which are right in the middle of the row. The wives had that classic "we sat here because our husbands told us to" look on their faces. The husbands had no look on their faces because they were staring straight down.

4:42 Now this is exactly how I thought Pettitte would pitch this year-- 50+ pitches and still in the 2nd inning.

4:49 God, I can't wait to upgrade my seats.

4:52 NOT EXACTLY TRIVIA: Rank the four major professional team sports in order of average player IQ, from lowest to highest.

4:55 Kinda drunk after just one imperial pint of Guinness. This doesn't bode well for next Friday night.

5:03 I wonder what the most ridiculous name is that they'd actually put up on the giant $100 Yankee Fan Marquee... Karl Dingleberry, perhaps? I gotta try that this year.

5:05 Our billion-dollar stadium allows us to see the lyrics to "I Wanna Rock" on a 5000 sq. foot screen.

5:09 TRIVIA #2: How many players have won World Series as both Yankees and Mets?

5:15 So much for the pristine rest rooms. There's a giant splat of snot and blood on the top of the urinal I'm peeing in (on? into?).

[I decided to go find KumoD and his friend. We watched the rest of the lousy game together and parted ways.]

Rays 9, Yankees 7

Lee Jr.'s first game at the new Stadium!

We had an awful time getting up to the park today. I (we) decided to try a different route than usual, with the boy/stroller coming along and all. Seemed like the 1-to-uptown 2-to-4 with the elevator finish would make a nice trip. I had doubts as soon as we left the apartment, spouting tell-tale lines like "this is the old school way to go" (in other words, I never go this way any more).

I'm not blaming the route, but things weren't smooth. We waited for almost a half hour for the downtown 1 at 110th (including a dreaded honker-- a train that speeds by without stopping because it's so fucking crowded), and barely squeezed on with the damn stroller. The up-and-down transfer at 96th was predictably sucky, but at least Mz got a seat with the boy so she could finish feeding him his little jar of food. I even got a chance to sit down at around 125th, but minutes later some bitch in a headdress plopped down into the foot-wide space next to me, nearly popping her fat ass on the keys in my pocket. Then it was two more sets of stairs, a claustro-ride for one stop on the 4, and finally an absurd round of elevator rides. I think the MTA's elevators are generally excellent, but there's a lot of room for error if you don't know exactly what you're doing. How am I supposed to know where the "Mezzanine" is and whether that's really where I want to get off?

Luckily the space-age elevators inside the Stadium don't leave any doubt in one's mind. They kick ass. It's almost unfair.

LJ fell asleep as we rolled around the Grandstand concourse, not really sure if we should even bother trying to sit in our seats with him. We bit the bullet and checked his stroller at Guest Services (super easy) and carried the little potato-sack up to row 14. He snoozed for a bit longer, and woke up during some stupid game on the scoreboard. They still have a lot of work to do on that board-- everything ends up looking like a metal band's live album cover. They still have the same schizo font situation going on, and damned if I can't ever figure out what the fucking count is.

We left at the end of the 8th, just as "Enter Sandman" started to pump through the speakers. These are the kind of moves one makes when you bring children to baseball games. I did this gladly and of my own free will-- either you understand thsi or you don't.

Not sure what to say about Mariano, although the words "exit strategy" keep popping into my mind. Might get ugly at some point.

Yankees 12, Rangers 3

Our annual staff trip to Yankee Stadium (40 people) didn't disappoint. We sat waaaaaay out and up in the right field Grandstand (section 405), where the view was actually pretty decent. Got a little drunk and a little noisy, but certainly behaved well within society's norms (except for a moronic argument between me and KumoD about "God Bless America"). A good time was had by all.

I wish I'd heard John Sterling's call of Hideki Matsui's 4th inning dong-- apparently Big John accidentally launched into his "an AAAAA-Bomb..." routine and had to switch to "well, it would have been if A-Rod had hit it..." before properly crediting the homer to Hideki. Unbelievable. Hell, just listen to it here (even with the dumb video).

So I really wanna get some of this old Yankee Stadium swag. I've given up on buying a pair of seats, especially after I found out that they take them apart, clean them, and put a new commemorative frame on them. What's the point?

I do like this sign quite a bit. Note that I've never been thrown out of Yankee Stadium.

This next sign might be kinda cool too-- maybe I'll put in a bid on it.

Stupid like a Fox

Gave my Saturday tickets over to Heath today. Good things seem to happen when I do that... A-Rod hit #500 a couple of years ago, and then today. Maybe I'll give him the rest of my package.

After watching Fox's pathetic coverage of today's game, I've instead decided to see as many games in person as possible. My expectations are veeeerrrrry low for the channel 5 guys, so I can't say I'm that surprised. But y'know-- I expect a certain level of professionalism from guys that do nationally televised games every week. A low level, but at least a level.

Joe and Tim stumbled their way through the first few innings... well, I assume they did because I had the sound off. Even without any sound at all, you know these idiots are talking trash as soon as you see their faces.

My stomach churned after the neophyte John Mayberry Jr. hit his first major league homer off Pettitte and put the Phils up 4-1. A few minutes later I was scrambling turn the volume on after they misidentified some guy in the stands as "John Mayberry Sr., John Mayberry Jr.'s father." I guess the Fox ground team's memo from up-top only read he's a big black guy wearing a Phillies hat, 'cause they came up with the wrong guy. About 15 minutes later they found the real elder John Mayberry, who was a great sport about the gaffe. Hell, his son just jacked one at Yankee Stadium!

I kept my finger on the remote for a while after that, just in case more hijinks were up ahead. Sure enough, they posted an incredibly stupid "poll" about what Ken Rosenthal was doing tonight after the game (besides sending out his resume). The crew revealed that Ken was indeed going to see Springsteen tonight, and quickly cut to Ken himself out in the stands for a reaction. His microphone wasn't on (not because I muted him-- it really wasn't plugged in!), so he stood there blabbing away about "The Boss", no doubt (I guess... who knows what he was saying!). All this during the most exciting part of the game, too.

After this I just had to keep the sound on. Joe Buck supplied his usual stream of deadpan truisms, with ol' Tim sounding pretty tired as the game winded down. Buck tried to come up with something profound after A-Rod's game-tying tater in the ninth, but instead stammered something inane about the supposed wind tunnel to right at the new Stadium and how A-Rod's shot would have been a homerun anywhere. The shot only cleared the wall by about five feet!

Fox then compiled a montage of all the "face-pies" from the last few Yanks' stolen victories. It was a drawn-out exercise, to say the least (show the score deficit, play the clip of the game winning hit, show A.J. Burnett sneak up with the pie, repeat ad nauseum...), even for us Yankee fans. Anyway, Fox screws up by completely missing the Los Chicos double pie-slam by Burnett while they talk to a blank-faced A-Rod. Yeah, you could see it in the background, but come on. Let's just say that Suzyn Waldman and Kimberly Jones have spent a good deal of the month of May cleaning cream out of their hair.

A real team effort today by the Yanks (even the cryogenic Nick Swisher). Pettitte put in his seven innings, which is about all I'll ever ask of the guy. However, we need to see a bit more from Mr. Burnett if we're gonna make a real push for the division this year. More than pies, anyway.

Yankees 6, Twins 4

I completely blew off my game entry from two weeks ago-- apologies to the faithful. At that point I'd witnessed two Saturday drubbings for a total of 30 runs allowed, and I didnt' really feel like talking about it. A few quips about how good the Peroni beer was just didn't seem worth writing about.

Yesterday was a little better. I brought my old pal from upstate to the game. He doesn't really like baseball and pretty much hates the Yankees, but he's always a good sport about it. He also shares my recent cravings for Guinness and Jagermeister, so we were peas in a fucking pod.

Despite a few bumps in the road (late babysitter, near-disaster trying to sneak knife into Yankee Stadium), we made it within minutes of Joba's first pitch. I still haven't gotten used to our new season seats, so we kinda wandered around for a while (beer, crappy food, bathroom, ATM, etc.). The section 422 beer stand can't be beat, but I'm already sick of the nearby food options. Rumors were flying around about $9 cans of PBR yesterday-- I'll confirm that another time.

I had just finished explaining how Mark Teixeira sucks to my friend when he clomped a three-run shot. And A-Rod... well, he's on another planet right now. End of the game was totally weird-- they showed A-Rod standing next to Kimberly Jones on the giant screen with pie all over his face. We left the stadium confused and in need of more beer.

Last night was a little Jager, a little beer, and a little more Jager. Not enough food, however. I ate LJ's discarded dinner (chunks of Boca burger and some cheese toast) and then had some pretzels and popcorn. Yikes.

Looks like we're taking the boy to the Philly game next Saturday. More on that next week.

"The House that Ruth Build"

What can I say about this one?! Took my dad to see one of the worst drubbings in Yankee history. Every ball the Indians hit was fucking smoked. This really was batting practice.

Anyway, our new seats aren't bad. The section's really mellow-- like, dorky mellow. Very nice woman sitting next to me with her mother, who was about 85 years old. They'll be my neighbors for the next six months. I was honestly uncomfortable with the idea of raising my voice above normal speaking volume.

Another older woman sat directly in front of me with a bootleg T-shirt from last year's opening day. The back proudly read "The House that Ruth Build" across the top. Maybe I'll make a shirt that says "Babe Ruht #3" or "Jolter Joe DiMaggio"...

I really don't have the energy to evaluate the goddamn stadium again, but I truly like it. I'm not sure how they managed to make a fancy-ass state-of-the-art stadium that still has enough of the old one's look to feel right. Amazing.

They need to fix the fucking mustard dispensers, though. A girl was on French's detail for at least 15 minutes and couldn't get any thing to come out either of the two nozzles. My dad and I were forced to open and squirt at least six packets on our foot-longs, which was a surprisingly difficult and awkward exercise. The condiment stand was so brand new and nice that we couldn't just leave sticky packets and wrappers and napkins all over the place, and the nearest garbage was part of a recycling triple bin at least 30 feet away. Plus, the French's girl was standing right there, squeezing weird foil bags of mustard into the dispensing depots, so we couldn't defile her efforts like a couple of teenagers, right??!! We shuffled over to the nearest pretzel stand, which featured the only flat surfaces for what seemed like miles.

So yeah, I love the new place. Also found a Guinness-on-tap booth mere seconds from our seats. At what appeared to be pints (I'm praying they're "imperial" 20-oz. pints) for $11 a pop, what's not to like?!

I didn't have a Guinness this time, 'cause I had to get home to put LJ to bed. The sitter was staying until about 7:30, and she had just endured a horrific tantrum by the boy when I left at around 3pm. As I dragged him across the floor while he hung onto my leg screaming, I felt about 30% heartwarmed and 70% embarassed while I slipped out the door for a quick cab uptown. "Give him a warm bottle of milk and watch some boring show on TV-- he'll go to sleep..." was my parting advice (which worked, by the way).

I paid the price tonight, with another marathon bedtime affair. I'm completely out of gas at this point, so I'm reduced to bargaining, begging, etc. with the boy for just about anything. Somehow I got him down, even though I probably opened another line of credit with Satan himself to do so.

22 to 4???!!!! This HAS to be the low point. Tomorrow's Burnett vs. Pavano right? Don't laugh, Carl actually beat A.J. last year in a weird one at the stadium.

Back in the Saddle

Whole lot better today. Better eating, better napping, better bath, and better bedtime.

Took it as a good sign when he slept in 'til sevenish after his 6:15 sayonara last night. Waking up before your child is strangely empowering. Did some killer Duplo building, wrestled a little bit, bought the paper, straightened up the pad a little bit, and prepared for Frank Rose's visit at 1pm.

I've known Frank since we were around 6 years old. He only saw LJ when he was a few months old, so pretty cool that he's walking and sorta talking and generally hilarious at this point. Our guest brought a swell rubber duck set (yes, a set) and a great-looking board book on sea animals. Everyone got along great.

As much fun as we were having, my focus turned to LJ's bath/book/bed once dinnertime rolled around. Bath was my usual wild ride, although I kept the kid from face-plunging into the drink this time. Still an adventure, to say the least.

After that was smooth as Sade. He even got half his uni-jamas on by himself! I still worry about him being psychologically scarred every time we get to the end of How Big is a Pig? (I just shouldn't read that one), but no biggie. This was one of my better routines tonight. Even the Russian judge gave me a 10.0 on this one.

Even with today's feelgood vibes, I'm leaving the boy home with sitter for tomorrow's Yankee game. I gotta get to know the new Stadium a bit more before I charge in with LJ. He's still a bit under the weather too. I'd also hate for the boy to see Wang stink it up for the third time in a row. My dad will be ruthless with all Yankee pitchers tomorrow, especially the ones not named Bruney or Rivera.

Word up to SpaceJace again for the generous mentions in his blog, which I clearly support and love. J, I'm gonna do my best to cover the Pageant Sunday night. Space has also been heard on That Chick Sports Show on Saturday afternoons. Check it out!