I'm kind of reluctant to post, considering the last baseball post I did that wasn't all name calling coincided with the worst Mets' stretch since the dark days of Art Howe, but I will soldier on, because the blogosphere needs me damn it.
Going to two games in one week is a rare occasion for me, as it probably should be. Not that I wouldn't want to go to 81 home games, but who can really afford that? I mean, some people can I guess, because that's how they sell season tickets, right? Where was I?
Ah yes, going to two games. Oddly enough, both games involved me going with people from the Deadspin universe, a universe kinda like the Ultimate Marvel universe, but with more superpowers. It would have been cool if the first game had been a win, but instead I got to watch the Mets get shellacked by the Twins and witness the Scott Schoeneweis era take an ugly turn: he was booed the moment he was stepped out of the bullpen. Not that he hasn't earned it. When I went to that game, I had with me but one fellow Deadspinner. I was hoping that going with a few more could help matters. So how many did I go with?
This many, give or take a few that didn't make the picture (sorry Metschick). This was a much better time. Instead of the Mets getting shellacked, they did the shellacking. A perfect night out really, with pre-game drinking, at game drinking and post-game drinking (though a certain asshole bouncer obviously has manliness issues). All that really marred the evening was a mysterious exploding ketchup packet that some random asshole must have stomped on. During the cleanup, myself and Bushido missed a Beltran homer, but at least we saw the Shawn Green one earlier in the evening.
So I learned a valuable lesson: never go to a game with just one Deadspinner, bring an army and you just might have a chance.