Take Me Out To The Ballgame

Oh, I’m sorry, I wanted to give a recap of my trek to RFK last night (wait, it’s now called Armed Services Stadium…let’s give some credit to Geoff Butt, and all agree to call it The ASS from now on), but I am contractually obligated to discuss ad nauseam the Gary Sheffield/Fenway Fan scuffle. Blah Blah Blah…this ain’t Mike and Mike…let’s get to some Chocolate City ball.

(Can we pause for a moment to talk about how great the new job is? At 3:45 or so yesterday, I was herded up to our roof for beer and hot dogs and pretzels. Really? That’s how this works? Just wait ‘til I get that Diner’s Club card and go crazy…)

Baseball in DC...what could ever go wrong (Poor preparation? Nah, never happen). Now I am not here to put a negative spin on last night's festivities, because the ballgame and the atmosphere were simply amazing. I am simply here to mock the incompetence that is inherent in anything DC seems to do (especially when it comes to baseball).

Let’s table my bitching and moaning for a second to praise the Washington Nationals for a very solid W last night (and let’s praise Chris for getting us tickets, entertaining tickets in the Uecker seats – I could touch the wall of The ASS - that allowed me to see all the empty seats jackasses chose not to fill on the most historic baseball night in DC in a generation…sorry, that was a little Boswellian). I never expected to say this, but I saw a pretty decent team on the field last night. Livan Hernandez is an absolute workhorse, the top of the Nats lineup has some very dangerous lefties (including the second coming of Mickey Mantle, “The Wilk”), and the bullpen seems to have some live arms who don’t have CHOKE written all over them (John Franco, I’m looking at you buddy…speaking of Mr. Franco, I bet there are two very giddy Mets fans this morning after win number 4). I was pleasantly surprised by the stadium and what I viewed as a B+ environment for seeing a game (lots of spontaneous cheering, nobody throwing flares at goalies). The rickety old seats could use a facelift, and the stairs are a nightmare (even Swint’s feet are too big for these stairs), but all in all the stadium held up…

… (Here comes the bitching) You would’ve thought we were in downtown Calcutta with the amount of people inside and outside of the ballpark. Nowhere to move, nowhere to go, lines that never seemed to end. I mean, I wasn’t sure if I was on the Orange Line Metro coming to the game or a refugee train speeding out of some Middle Eastern country with refugee problems and refugee trains. And don’t even get me started about the people on the Metro…seriously, I was squeezed up against two guys having the worst sports conversation ever, much worse than any crap Mike and Mike throw out there (wow, those guys get mentioned twice in this post). The only saving grace to that conversation is the two donkeys sounded exactly like Mayhugh and Cleveland. Now that made me chuckle.

Tangent #1…The funniest thing about the lame CheerStix that were handed to us as we walked in isn’t that they’re called “CheerStix”; it’s the following instructions on the bag:
“To bang: Hold the CheerStix 12-18 inches apart and then slam them together.”
This is absolutely something I could here Greg saying to a girl at 4am on a Saturday night.

Back to the lines…of course we were outside The ASS well past 7:05, so W’s first pitch was missed by half the crowd, a crowd treated to some of the worst protest chants in the history of protest chants. Ironic given these folks were teachers…you would think they would’ve done some prep work between cigarettes and Red Bulls in the Teacher’s Lounge. Fast forward to making it to the seats just in time to see Livan throw the first pitch for the Natty’s, a strike to Craig Counsell…waited through the first hit by Nick Johnson (who is better than Giambi right now, no doubt)…then thought it was time for a brew and a dog. That’s when it happened – everyone donkey in the place was in a line, for something, and there were no ways around any lines, and people were getting antsy, and (wait for it) THEY RAN OUT OF EVERYTHING. HOT DOGS, PRETZELS, BEER…OH MY. This happened to me, and two others I was with – and they had waited for 30 minutes at least in line. What a debacle. People were openly cheering strangers who survived the 2 inning wait and made it back to their seats with any sort of food or drink. The hero of the night award goes to my cahort who returned after 2 full innings with 4 hot dogs – best damn hot dog ever. I’m pretty sure there are still people waiting in line this morning.

Tangent #2…Bama of the Week Week Week…Stupid Frenchman Lance Cormier beans Vinny Castilla in the 8th when he’s a single away from the cycle. The venom that ensued was AWESOME, and I only hope that sort of passion stays with DC fans for a long time. I wish I could find that Peter Angelos clip where he said DC had no real baseball fans. What an ass that guy is. I hope the Orioles draw nobody in the next 3 years and he has to sell that team.

Anyway, terrific game, terrific atmosphere, DC wasn’t quite ready (or maybe it was because Bushie was there), but whatever, it…was…awesome. As I left to take the Metro home, I began to see a very large crowd gathered. Are they waiting for players? Is a motorcade leaving? Nope…it was 3,000 people in line for the Metro. F that, I walked (briskly) through the “transitional” neighborhood (read: ghetto) next to The ASS, making it home in 15 minutes, in time to see the Sheffield incident referenced above (which you can be sure will be beaten into the ground for the next 3 days). I’m going back as soon as possible, who’s with me?