Saturday, July 08, 2006
expletive expletive expletive expletive
So have you all seen the drinking photos yet? I only mention this because I was sharing this information with the two sisters who sit next to us, promising to send them the links, earlier in the evening.
By the second or third inning, one of them leans over and asks, “Were those photos from LAST NIGHT? Because they’re playing like they’re hungover!”
So there was some ENORMOUS group in front of us, that had a surplus of little pitchers with big ears, and since I’m usually the one yelling “CHILDREN!” at people’s inappropriate language—well, this is what I kept yelling all night when I wanted to scream various obscenities.
I could not have possibly conceived of how bad it was going to be. And we can’t blame Jose Lima, although he did get the boos he deserved—um, David Wright? um, Julio Franco? um, Ramon “Darth Vader” Castro? um, Chris Woodward? and - omg - JOSE REYES SLIDING INTO FIRST BASE, WHICH IS BAD ENOUGH, BUT THEN HE GOT A LACERATION ON HIS HAND FROM SPIKES!
Add to this freaking nightmare the fact that I am coming down with a summer cold, somewhere around the 4th inning, the thought of going back to the car, coming home, and getting into bed seemed like an awfully good idea. Of course I didn’t, but it didn’t get any better, now did it?
Where are my Mets? My Mets play with heart. There was no heart tonight. I don’t give a fuck if the All-Star break is next week or how far ahead we are. I come to the game to watch them play, not to watch them phoning it in.
Can I have a TRL minute here? Before the game, on the Diamondvision: The gorgeous photo of Reyes and Wright standing back to back, bats over their shoulders, lights ablaze behind them: FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS said the headline. Total heartthrob baseball pinups that both girls AND boys would put on their walls. That HAS to be a poster. I would buy one RIGHT NOW. :::end TRL:::
