Double Header

Now before I get on my donkbox, I would like to make one thing perfectly clear...attending live sporting events is one of my favorite activities. Baseball and football primarily but you name the sport and Ive seen it live, heck Ive even been known to sit ringside at WWF events. Stop typing Rhino, I know its not a real sport (that is since that golden hue haired heathen hulkster became champ), but Ill tell ya if youve never gone, I would highly recommend it for the sheer comedic value of it all, as you will never be seated so close to absolute maniacs, and not the wrestlers.

The problem with sporting events are the fans. You see, this may come as surprise to those that know me, and those readers whose only knowledge of me is that of an overwhelmingly charming and gregarious barnyard animal, but I hate people. Mind you I dont hate all people, just most of them. Take for example those "fans" decked out in their teams colors gung ho to support their team but once they arrive at the stadium become lost little sheep. Every stadium, arena, dome, track, etc Ive been to uses an alpha-numeric system. That being said, you should be able to air-drop a class of fifth graders into any event and every single one of them should find their seats. Not the case. It never ceases to amaze me when people ask for directions inside of a building. Do you know the alphabet? Yes. Can you count to one hundred? Yes. Then find your seat jackass. I cant figure it out. Is it laziness, herd mentality, or just a lack of common sense.

Which brings me to the slutty back tattoo. Now maybe Ive just been spoiled because the people that have the tix in front of me havent been to a game in seven years or maybe its because this chick wasnt hot, but I hate it when people sit in front of me. If its a full house I dont care, but when there are thirty empty seats next to the seats in front, behind, or on the side of me...common sense should dictate that you sit in those seats. Right? Now I know Im handsome and chicks dig me so its understandable they want to be near me, to smell my scent, my musk. So this broad has a tattoo on the small of her back which read Rock ~n~ Roll. So for every big play, Im cheering ROCK n ROLL. Although not clever, I figured it was a personal touch. She never figured it out, which her constant cell phone yapping in Russian I guess explains, I know what youre thinking, back tattooed Ruskie....jackpot, giggity giggity. Trust me, not hot. And another frickin thing. People that use speakerphones in public should be shot, or fall victim to the peanut punishment that awaits those seated in front of me that meet my displeasure.

Now it was raining on Saturday, and seeing that my seats are under slight cover my area became very popular. With jackasses. Such as the guy behind me that dropped a quarter under my seat when ordering a Kosher hot dog. This will come as no surprise considering the previous picture, but I am a part time slob. Theres an old saying "You dont shit where you live" Well I dont live at Shea. I knew he dropped something, but I figured it was change as he didnt say anything for quite some time. Well that time came around the sixth inning meltdown of El Duque, so Im not a happy donkey So this jackass asks me for the quarter under my ketchup encrusted pepper -n- onions peppered seat. I stood up handed the guy a dollar, grabbed the quarter and chucked it.

At this point in the game Shea is empty so I figure Ill grab some premo field seats for game two of the double header. The place was empty but they were stopping everyone without field tickets. Almost everyone. So we grab some orange seats in a pretty good but empty location, figuring the place would be desolate for the second game, and further jackassery could be avoided for the next four five hours. Not the case. A pack of loud drunken paddys sit right in front of me. Noone else is in our section. At this point Im ready to fight, so I tell them to beat it and they respond with slurs, not racial slurs, but slurring (no idea what they said), but didnt move, so I packed up and moved directly in front of them. More words were exchanged, they left.

Noticing this, an usher and a security guard approach me. No problems, none were expected being that Im a grey haired donkey most people figure me to be a cop or a gangster. We get to talking and it seems they've been having problems all day because people figured (rightly so) they could move to better seats as the big shot field level seat holders dont stick around in the rain for double headers. So Vinnie (the usher) tells me they got the call from corporate to not let anyone sit in the field boxes without proper ticketage, and they were suspending ushers that allowed it to happen. Its bad enough that on a cold rainy day they ran out of coffee hot chocolate and beer, but to give a big FUCK YOU to those die hard fans weathering the storm is a disgrace. Back when Doubleday was an owner, they would send ushers up to the cheap seats and bring people down. Hell I remember going to games with Fly and his brother and the cops would tell us that we should bring our own booze to save money, ah the good ol days.

Well into game two and Glavine is pitching a gem (Willie why didnt he start the first game on seven days rest?) and its apparent Vinne the Usher is comfortable with me as hes dropping racial slurs left and right, and referring to the Mets as the New York Dominicans. As a redneck Conservative I can appreciate a good off color racial joke as much as the next cracker but theres a time and place (the back nine of the club). If the Mets were made up of albino aborigines, as long they could play ball I would root for them. I root for David Wright no more than Jose Reyes or Cliff Floyd because hes a honkey. Win games for my Mets and Im on your side. At Shea the colors I see are blue and orange, at klan rallies, thats another matter.

So getting bored with his constant carping as well anticipating the approaching Pepsi T-shirt launch I slip Vin a fin and tell him to get us down closer. Done. So for the last four innings Im chilling with Mr Met on the dugout and witness another great extra inning Mets win.

So in closing I would like to say...

Lets Go Mets!

Jackasses just go