12 April 2008

Baseball Is the New Hockey

Well, hockey season has ended (at least for the Grizzlies) and baseball season has just begun. Good thing they flow one right after the other. I will admit that I'm kind of glad that the Grizzlies aren't playing anymore. They were painful to watch this year. Just a terrible team. They could throw off the gloves and fight though. I will give them that. That aspect made it bearable to watch. What I didn't know (until the last game of the season) is that I had a hook-up to let me into the games for free. Man, I feel so stupid that I spent so much money to watch them lose. I have tried to flirt with the old men that take the tickets or guard the staff entrances, but they really stand their ground. It's worked at Bees games numerous times (Shanna knows). These E Center men must be made of stone.

For kicks and giggles:

And in case you wanted to see some fighting, check out this game that happened over 10 years ago. Beware. It doesn't get much more brutal than this:

The Bees had their first home game yesterday. I'm looking forward to plenty of days sitting alongside the firstbase line behind the dugout, shouting at Charles Nagy. And insulting the opposing pitcher. And eating an All Star Dog. What is an All-Star Dog, you ask? It is heaven on a freaking bun! Sauteed vegetables and a hollandaise sauce over a footlong hot dog. Let's go to the ballpark and I'll buy you one. You'll love me forever. That's a promise.

The Red Sox were up against the Yankees today. And WON! (picture wild cheering and the ripping off of my shirt). That's a good omen. It sets the right pace for the rest of the season. It makes me feel more comfortable about how things will turn out. I pray for each player by name and position.

I think this Red Sox fanaticism is a disease. I can't control my emotions when it comes to my team. Take for instance, when someone harasses me if the Red Sox suddenly are behind a game or two in their division. I really get angry that it was brought up and have to stop myself from making a personal attack at that person. "Yeah, so? You're a pee drinking crap face!" Also, back in 2003, I was dating a guy named Alex who was watching Game 7 of the ALCS with me when the Red Sox lost to the Yankees, and I broke up with him because he didn't think it was a big deal. Whaaaat! I just couldn't handle that attitude.

Random thought. I think that the "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" song at the seventh inning stretch only sounds good if you sing it as if you were under the influence of large amounts of alcohol. Otherwise it just sounds lame. Try it. Right now in your own home. Sing it normal first, and then sing it as if you were totally plastered. It just sounds better and is way more fun to sing. I think they play it at the seventh inning to give people plenty of time to tank up.

Well, let me know if you'd like to join me at the ballpark anytime this season. I pledge to have plenty of sunflower seeds and an arsenal of trash talk.


Natalie said...

I have another requirement for these games you speak of: mini palm-sized squirt guns that can be squirted at strangers without being revealed. Remember the bee's game with Clint and Dustin and Blake? Clint was sitting next to me and even I couldn't figure out where the water was coming from. It was genius, and I've forever wanted to be so stealth.

The Picketts said...

I can picture you singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" in your PJ's - while brushing your teeth. Wait - I've seen you singing that way before!!! Only it was "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" - Amy Grant style! HA HA HA - good times!

The Picketts said...

One more thing...I think you should come to AZ and go to the D-Backs game with us. SO FUN! (By the way, if we were in UT, we'd totally go with you!)

Jess said...

This has nothing to do with baseball. But I need to tell you that I had a dream about you the other night. You were shot in the upper arm with a crossbow, yet refused to have anyone take a look at it. You kept insisting that you were fine. What does that mean?

Vanessa said...

That's easy, Jessi. It means that I eat thunder and crap lightning.