Post by $heriff Tom on Aug 25, 2006 14:25:02 GMT -5
AUGUST 7th, 2001
"I can't remember the last time I was drunk....I must have been wasted." - Bleacher Credo, 2001
Well, with me on a self-imposed one month suspension of drinking I figured that comment was the best way to open up this column. This is just a ragtag smattering of notes from the last couple of weeks, as taken from scrorecards that were scurried all about my floor like running roaches and pulled panties. So here goes, but keep in mind there are more holes in this than there are in the "Barely Legal On The Beach" orgy scene, but work with me here.
JULY 20, 2001 - Yankees vs. Toronto
Precluding the Creature march through Toronto, we had a warmup against the putrid Jays out at the Stadium. It was Brett Jodie's first - and last - start in a Yankee uniform. Things started out oddly as an old man was sitting on my scorecard for the first inning and a half and I just did not have the cajones to ask him to move or to fill him in on the sad fact that there was a wooden clipboard under his ass. With the swamp ass heat, shortsand bad legs were in abundance, as Midget Mike was sporting his postal employee shorts, prompting many a "don't shoot!" joke, and Joe T was showing off his tatooed leg in shorts of his own, which 41 equated to the "cover of an Iron Maiden album."
An staggeringly old man who actually looked to me like a chalkboard walked up, prompting "how many thesis' did you write?", "sit down Dr. Suess!" and "he looks like an older David Bowie" quips.
Grover was laughing and dancing around, prompting a miserable Tone Capone to snap, "go draw a cartoon, Grover." The insults continued to fly as Big Brian, seeing Donahue chattering away on a cell phone hollered, "who are you talking to, your chef?"
The game was nondescript, we lost, and when the highlight was Pops running around in the box seats trying to start the wave to annoy us over in 39, it is time to move on to the next one.
AUGUST 1, 2001 - Yankees vs. Rangers
Yet another birthday, that of the amiable Mike Dohahuge, who as a present ended up buying $40 worth of hot dogs from Twins with his own cash to toss around to the crowd. The crap Rangers were in town, but thanks to the high propensity of A-Rod groupies, the crowd was well over 40,000, and that made me more grumpy than the site of our own Knoblauch in the park before the game placidly EATING A SALAD. On top of that, he confessed in a fit of lunacy that he actually had seen the movie Titanic "in the theatres." I mean, gay.
Out in the park we discussed the death of Viking Kory Stringer during NFL training drills, and the oddity that I found out about the death while surfing about on weather.com. Now they are running obituaries? You know the web masters there were "Thank God for heat strokes" to give them something besides heat indeces and tornados to write about.
The Yankees started strong that day, pasting the Rangers to a 7-1 tune over the first 3 innings. Of course, that was bound to change. Big Brian was keeping score, haphazardly at that, marking a "MO", or mystery out, on what actually was a two-run single for Randy Velarde as the Rangers crept back into the game.
Black Monica was happily blowing bubbles while Grover ripped a piece of a headline from the paper which said "member" and walked around with it on his crotch, but despite the joy the Rangers were still peppering thier way back into the game. A cop was on idiot patrol, woofing at everyone to sit down and not stand, causing Bald Vinny to hop up and do a little jig every time he turned his back to gaze at the game.
The A-Rod fans were becoming increasingly vocal, and more and more annoying, causing Cowbell Mo to holler, "I'll call immigration right now, and you'll all be out of here!!" This drew his biggest cheer of the year, besides when he was taken from the bodega in an ambulance from passing out stone drunk.
For some reason the Shop Rite "Can-Can" dance was played over the PA, which I took as an ominous sign. Some kid strolled up with a "Get Well Grandpa" sign, which of course sparked a "One More Day! One More Day!" chant.
Around this time some fat guy in a pink shirt was standing against the rail in the loge, wasting his time and that of others. Drunken birthday boy Donahuge leapt up, pointed in Christopher Columbus discover America fashion, and bellowed, "Hey!!!! Your.... shirt..... is...... gay!!!" He then flashed his own belly, and sat down to hearty backslaps, chuckles, and admonitions not to "show his belly again." Keeping with this theme of hilarity, as a girl walked up with cute little blue streaks in her hair, Pops bounced up and said accusingly, "What did you do, blow Poppa Smurf?
"
Despite the fact that the Yankees blasted 4 home runs in the first 2 innings, the Rangers crawled completely back into the game, only to see Mariano shut them down over two innings for the save. (although me and Bald Vinny sat there the whole time ruing the "6 out save") Yankees win, Donahuge shuffled out way early to crash bars, and all were happy, although I disgusted Big Brian by recounting how I did not bang a willing girl I met the night before in a sporadic hotel room party cause "I just met her and I have respect for women" Even though I was planning on getting her the very next night in that same room (and I did), that did not assuage his contemptous disdain.
AUGUST 3, 2001 - Yankees vs. Angels
This was the game where bicycling champion Lance Armstrong was yanked off his teeny jalopy to throw out the first pitch. As he was announced to a rousing spate of cheers, Bald Vinny, deep into his cups and tokes asked why all the applause for a "80 year old astronaut." Pity the poor souls that had to tell him he was thinking high school social studies and Neil, and not the Tour De France and Lance....
Smoke weed every day!
The only other notes that made it out of this Friday night game alive were the fact that Grover was so drunk he was dissing everyone within earshot, including telling Cowbell Mo to "get the Hell out of Ali's shadow", the fact that I missed the Rocky dance cause I was too drunk to get out of the seat (and Donahuge had even bought the rubber chicken for me to chase), and there was a ridiculous pregame argument in Yancey Park over who you would rather have as the catching foundation for a new team, the offensive verve of Mike Piazza or the defensive slant of Joe Girardi. I got so mad at the Girardi "defensive faction" (and I am still not sure if they were just F'ing with me) that I broke a bottle and left. Next game.
AUGUST 4, 2001 - Yankees vs. Angels
Again we were playing the Angels. It was Gang Bang Steve's 22nd birthday (I know, I have been drinking with him for 7 years and he is only 22), and he took the game off to mentally and physically prepare for a grueling round at Jeremy's Ale House later that night.
Pregame I basically sat in Yancey Park by myself for 90 minutes, drinking beer and listening to the Dead Milkmen on my walkman. I did get to see a cool bike accident with a pedestrian hit, and although they did not call an ambulance, they ALMOST did, and that was cool. There was also a pogo stick and a Mexican midget sighting.
Inside the Stadium a cop was playing the role of usher, moving me around like a drunken chess piece. He even displaced an elderly couple with a combined age usually attributed to pyramids to put me in my proper seat. Meanwhile a Latin woman wearing the white shirt of security who looked like a cross between Erik Estrada (thanks Cuban Monica for that allusion) and Ricardo Montalban sauntered around by the rail, scowling at the puppet show I was putting on for the young ragamuffins in attendance.
The heat bought out fits of delerium, and therefore ridiculously misplaced outfits. A chubby girl walked around with a button down Mount Rushmore shirt, prompting the old "when I mount, she says rush more!" gag from me. A goof of a guy in front of me had a nice tropical shirt on with a Florida theme. A pelican, a palm frond, a boat, a cool drink, a beach umbrella. And....the SPACE SHUTTLE??? Look, I know the space shuttle flies out of Florida, but does it have to make a color splashed tourist shirt? And in our own environ, Colleen, she of the same birthday as I, was walking around in a Bon Jovi shirt of all things.
There was a particularly vocal Red Sucks fan plopped right there in the aisle of 39, prompting Cuban Monica to hurl a ball of aluminum foil at his head, which overshot him and whomped Jonathon's Mom instead. That got a cheap pop. As the razzing got more and more intense, someone clued into the fact told this jerk, "you actually PAID to have this happen to you...."
Monica actually repeated the act later in the homestand, targeting the ever-popular Jonathon himself, and clearing his head with room to spare and once again bouncing wrap off his Mom's head. Score 2 for Cuban Monica.
The heat was stifling. While drinking a bottled water (yes, drunks actually drink bottled water sometimes) I noticed an expirattion date of 4/16/04 on it. Now why the HELL does water HAVE AN EXPIRATION DATE? It's going to go bad?? If you drink it in June of 2004 you are going to get sick? Actually, a Poland Spring employee just happened to be on hand and he told me that Federal regulations require an expiration date on anything that may contain bacteria, and although water will not inherently go bad (which is why they tell you to stock up on it in case of nuclear war, duh) they stamp it with a fake expiration date just to appease the feds. Keeping with the tropicality of the day, the PA was actually playing Billy Ocean, singing his song about a tropical gay guy, "Carribean Queen."
Someone was passing around chicken, prompting a drunken Black Monica to say, "I ain't that black to where I am eating someone else's chicken!" She ended up throwing it on the floor. It seemed to be a homestand for black jokes, as someone scrolled aside the "caught stealing" column on my scorebook the names "tyrone, malik, duane, raheem..." And no, it was not me. Maybe.
Around this time Donahuge called in from home, simply to tell me he noticed from tv a fat guy was picking his nose behind home plate, and to look for him. Hell, with my eyes I am lucky I can read Soriano's number at 2nd, yet alone see some porker digging for gold behind the plate.
By now the PA system was going bonkers, playing Foreigners "Jukebox Hero" and the creme de le creme, the "Ghostbusters" theme. What would possess someone to drag that out?? Actually, I was once at a wedding that closed with that song, so these days I could believe anything.
Well, the Yankees ended up winning this one, so we managed to shuffle out happy and made our way to Jeremy's Ale House, where the highlight of Gang Bangs birthday bash was a crazy drunken whiffle ball game (and yes, people can pitch a whiffle ball at close to 100 MPH and usually right at someones head it seems) and Water Girl Debbie giving myself, Knoblauch, and "Mr. Make It Happen" Phil detailed and explicit advice on how to "sexually please a woman." Talk about preaching to the choir...
Well, that seems to be about it for the last couple of weeks of July into August, sans Toronto, which was pretty much covered by the comedic stylings of "Metssuckballs" Marc in the Road Trip category. I skipped over my birthday game on the 25th, which was more of the same, besides my fall from the bench on to the concrete by the rail during a particulary overzealous Tom Tom drum, and the fact that security Sean signed my card not only as Ralph K. (for Kramden) but scribed on it, "have a drink on me! Ha Ha!"
Well, we have another trip to Staten Island at the end of this week, and Mo Love will be breaking out the bell in that borough for the first time, and I will be sure to recap our bitch-slapping of Tampa Bay come a week or so, so stay close, and if you are a woman, get closer.
Until then, keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the boobs.
Sheriff Tom
Modern Day Iconoclast
"I can't remember the last time I was drunk....I must have been wasted." - Bleacher Credo, 2001
Well, with me on a self-imposed one month suspension of drinking I figured that comment was the best way to open up this column. This is just a ragtag smattering of notes from the last couple of weeks, as taken from scrorecards that were scurried all about my floor like running roaches and pulled panties. So here goes, but keep in mind there are more holes in this than there are in the "Barely Legal On The Beach" orgy scene, but work with me here.
JULY 20, 2001 - Yankees vs. Toronto
Precluding the Creature march through Toronto, we had a warmup against the putrid Jays out at the Stadium. It was Brett Jodie's first - and last - start in a Yankee uniform. Things started out oddly as an old man was sitting on my scorecard for the first inning and a half and I just did not have the cajones to ask him to move or to fill him in on the sad fact that there was a wooden clipboard under his ass. With the swamp ass heat, shortsand bad legs were in abundance, as Midget Mike was sporting his postal employee shorts, prompting many a "don't shoot!" joke, and Joe T was showing off his tatooed leg in shorts of his own, which 41 equated to the "cover of an Iron Maiden album."
An staggeringly old man who actually looked to me like a chalkboard walked up, prompting "how many thesis' did you write?", "sit down Dr. Suess!" and "he looks like an older David Bowie" quips.
Grover was laughing and dancing around, prompting a miserable Tone Capone to snap, "go draw a cartoon, Grover." The insults continued to fly as Big Brian, seeing Donahue chattering away on a cell phone hollered, "who are you talking to, your chef?"
The game was nondescript, we lost, and when the highlight was Pops running around in the box seats trying to start the wave to annoy us over in 39, it is time to move on to the next one.
AUGUST 1, 2001 - Yankees vs. Rangers
Yet another birthday, that of the amiable Mike Dohahuge, who as a present ended up buying $40 worth of hot dogs from Twins with his own cash to toss around to the crowd. The crap Rangers were in town, but thanks to the high propensity of A-Rod groupies, the crowd was well over 40,000, and that made me more grumpy than the site of our own Knoblauch in the park before the game placidly EATING A SALAD. On top of that, he confessed in a fit of lunacy that he actually had seen the movie Titanic "in the theatres." I mean, gay.
Out in the park we discussed the death of Viking Kory Stringer during NFL training drills, and the oddity that I found out about the death while surfing about on weather.com. Now they are running obituaries? You know the web masters there were "Thank God for heat strokes" to give them something besides heat indeces and tornados to write about.
The Yankees started strong that day, pasting the Rangers to a 7-1 tune over the first 3 innings. Of course, that was bound to change. Big Brian was keeping score, haphazardly at that, marking a "MO", or mystery out, on what actually was a two-run single for Randy Velarde as the Rangers crept back into the game.
Black Monica was happily blowing bubbles while Grover ripped a piece of a headline from the paper which said "member" and walked around with it on his crotch, but despite the joy the Rangers were still peppering thier way back into the game. A cop was on idiot patrol, woofing at everyone to sit down and not stand, causing Bald Vinny to hop up and do a little jig every time he turned his back to gaze at the game.
The A-Rod fans were becoming increasingly vocal, and more and more annoying, causing Cowbell Mo to holler, "I'll call immigration right now, and you'll all be out of here!!" This drew his biggest cheer of the year, besides when he was taken from the bodega in an ambulance from passing out stone drunk.
For some reason the Shop Rite "Can-Can" dance was played over the PA, which I took as an ominous sign. Some kid strolled up with a "Get Well Grandpa" sign, which of course sparked a "One More Day! One More Day!" chant.
Around this time some fat guy in a pink shirt was standing against the rail in the loge, wasting his time and that of others. Drunken birthday boy Donahuge leapt up, pointed in Christopher Columbus discover America fashion, and bellowed, "Hey!!!! Your.... shirt..... is...... gay!!!" He then flashed his own belly, and sat down to hearty backslaps, chuckles, and admonitions not to "show his belly again." Keeping with this theme of hilarity, as a girl walked up with cute little blue streaks in her hair, Pops bounced up and said accusingly, "What did you do, blow Poppa Smurf?
"Despite the fact that the Yankees blasted 4 home runs in the first 2 innings, the Rangers crawled completely back into the game, only to see Mariano shut them down over two innings for the save. (although me and Bald Vinny sat there the whole time ruing the "6 out save") Yankees win, Donahuge shuffled out way early to crash bars, and all were happy, although I disgusted Big Brian by recounting how I did not bang a willing girl I met the night before in a sporadic hotel room party cause "I just met her and I have respect for women" Even though I was planning on getting her the very next night in that same room (and I did), that did not assuage his contemptous disdain.
AUGUST 3, 2001 - Yankees vs. Angels
This was the game where bicycling champion Lance Armstrong was yanked off his teeny jalopy to throw out the first pitch. As he was announced to a rousing spate of cheers, Bald Vinny, deep into his cups and tokes asked why all the applause for a "80 year old astronaut." Pity the poor souls that had to tell him he was thinking high school social studies and Neil, and not the Tour De France and Lance....
Smoke weed every day!
The only other notes that made it out of this Friday night game alive were the fact that Grover was so drunk he was dissing everyone within earshot, including telling Cowbell Mo to "get the Hell out of Ali's shadow", the fact that I missed the Rocky dance cause I was too drunk to get out of the seat (and Donahuge had even bought the rubber chicken for me to chase), and there was a ridiculous pregame argument in Yancey Park over who you would rather have as the catching foundation for a new team, the offensive verve of Mike Piazza or the defensive slant of Joe Girardi. I got so mad at the Girardi "defensive faction" (and I am still not sure if they were just F'ing with me) that I broke a bottle and left. Next game.
AUGUST 4, 2001 - Yankees vs. Angels
Again we were playing the Angels. It was Gang Bang Steve's 22nd birthday (I know, I have been drinking with him for 7 years and he is only 22), and he took the game off to mentally and physically prepare for a grueling round at Jeremy's Ale House later that night.
Pregame I basically sat in Yancey Park by myself for 90 minutes, drinking beer and listening to the Dead Milkmen on my walkman. I did get to see a cool bike accident with a pedestrian hit, and although they did not call an ambulance, they ALMOST did, and that was cool. There was also a pogo stick and a Mexican midget sighting.
Inside the Stadium a cop was playing the role of usher, moving me around like a drunken chess piece. He even displaced an elderly couple with a combined age usually attributed to pyramids to put me in my proper seat. Meanwhile a Latin woman wearing the white shirt of security who looked like a cross between Erik Estrada (thanks Cuban Monica for that allusion) and Ricardo Montalban sauntered around by the rail, scowling at the puppet show I was putting on for the young ragamuffins in attendance.
The heat bought out fits of delerium, and therefore ridiculously misplaced outfits. A chubby girl walked around with a button down Mount Rushmore shirt, prompting the old "when I mount, she says rush more!" gag from me. A goof of a guy in front of me had a nice tropical shirt on with a Florida theme. A pelican, a palm frond, a boat, a cool drink, a beach umbrella. And....the SPACE SHUTTLE??? Look, I know the space shuttle flies out of Florida, but does it have to make a color splashed tourist shirt? And in our own environ, Colleen, she of the same birthday as I, was walking around in a Bon Jovi shirt of all things.
There was a particularly vocal Red Sucks fan plopped right there in the aisle of 39, prompting Cuban Monica to hurl a ball of aluminum foil at his head, which overshot him and whomped Jonathon's Mom instead. That got a cheap pop. As the razzing got more and more intense, someone clued into the fact told this jerk, "you actually PAID to have this happen to you...."
Monica actually repeated the act later in the homestand, targeting the ever-popular Jonathon himself, and clearing his head with room to spare and once again bouncing wrap off his Mom's head. Score 2 for Cuban Monica.
The heat was stifling. While drinking a bottled water (yes, drunks actually drink bottled water sometimes) I noticed an expirattion date of 4/16/04 on it. Now why the HELL does water HAVE AN EXPIRATION DATE? It's going to go bad?? If you drink it in June of 2004 you are going to get sick? Actually, a Poland Spring employee just happened to be on hand and he told me that Federal regulations require an expiration date on anything that may contain bacteria, and although water will not inherently go bad (which is why they tell you to stock up on it in case of nuclear war, duh) they stamp it with a fake expiration date just to appease the feds. Keeping with the tropicality of the day, the PA was actually playing Billy Ocean, singing his song about a tropical gay guy, "Carribean Queen."
Someone was passing around chicken, prompting a drunken Black Monica to say, "I ain't that black to where I am eating someone else's chicken!" She ended up throwing it on the floor. It seemed to be a homestand for black jokes, as someone scrolled aside the "caught stealing" column on my scorebook the names "tyrone, malik, duane, raheem..." And no, it was not me. Maybe.
Around this time Donahuge called in from home, simply to tell me he noticed from tv a fat guy was picking his nose behind home plate, and to look for him. Hell, with my eyes I am lucky I can read Soriano's number at 2nd, yet alone see some porker digging for gold behind the plate.
By now the PA system was going bonkers, playing Foreigners "Jukebox Hero" and the creme de le creme, the "Ghostbusters" theme. What would possess someone to drag that out?? Actually, I was once at a wedding that closed with that song, so these days I could believe anything.
Well, the Yankees ended up winning this one, so we managed to shuffle out happy and made our way to Jeremy's Ale House, where the highlight of Gang Bangs birthday bash was a crazy drunken whiffle ball game (and yes, people can pitch a whiffle ball at close to 100 MPH and usually right at someones head it seems) and Water Girl Debbie giving myself, Knoblauch, and "Mr. Make It Happen" Phil detailed and explicit advice on how to "sexually please a woman." Talk about preaching to the choir...
Well, that seems to be about it for the last couple of weeks of July into August, sans Toronto, which was pretty much covered by the comedic stylings of "Metssuckballs" Marc in the Road Trip category. I skipped over my birthday game on the 25th, which was more of the same, besides my fall from the bench on to the concrete by the rail during a particulary overzealous Tom Tom drum, and the fact that security Sean signed my card not only as Ralph K. (for Kramden) but scribed on it, "have a drink on me! Ha Ha!"
Well, we have another trip to Staten Island at the end of this week, and Mo Love will be breaking out the bell in that borough for the first time, and I will be sure to recap our bitch-slapping of Tampa Bay come a week or so, so stay close, and if you are a woman, get closer.
Until then, keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the boobs.
Sheriff Tom
Modern Day Iconoclast
