It's been a rough morning. I blame whomever invented Crown Royal.
The Barrister
Wow. That game was a shit show. Mostly as with respect to me, as I'm pretty sure that I was only semi-conscious of the world around me. Which isn't to say I didn't know what was going on with the game - it was pretty easy to follow, as most baseball games are - but, boy, I must have been a sight to behold stumbling around the outfield concessions area, trying to put a straight face on while buying another beer.
It all started with a boat ride. A wonderful, drunken boat ride.
If you live in New York City, or travel here for baseball games during the summer, the NYC Water Taxi is a freakin' gift from heaven. The company, which typically runs ferry services/boat trips out of South Street Seaport, has been offering free - FREE!! - trips to all NY baseball game - Yankees and Mets - for a few years now. I've never taken the Yankee boat, as I'm sure it's filled with "special" fans from Staten Island, and I prefer to avoid those folks as often as I can. But, the Mets boat, filled with only the classiest of sports fans, has been a favorite of mine for a couple years. So, when Scizz, Apologist and I agreed that we'd check this game out, catching the water taxi was my first choice. Added benefits include forcing me to leave work right at 5 pm, rather than a 6 pm departure to get me to the field via subway, and the $5-$6 beers sold on the boat . While Aps had to opt out of the boat trip due to work, Scizz and I - as well as a dear friend of mine - found our way to the boat for the 5:40 departure.
Sidebar: Incidentally, this friend prefers to remain nameless in this post - which I can certainly appreciate - so, I agreed to find her a suitable nickname from amongst the characters in She-Ra: Princess of Power. I've settled on Madame Razz, who was apparently the witch on the show? Who the fuck knows. This line from the wikipedia page sealed it: "Madame Razz is very absent-minded, and frequently mispronounces spells or forgets them completely.." After my friend's performance last night, this seems about right.
Wow. That game was a shit show. Mostly as with respect to me, as I'm pretty sure that I was only semi-conscious of the world around me. Which isn't to say I didn't know what was going on with the game - it was pretty easy to follow, as most baseball games are - but, boy, I must have been a sight to behold stumbling around the outfield concessions area, trying to put a straight face on while buying another beer.
It all started with a boat ride. A wonderful, drunken boat ride.
If you live in New York City, or travel here for baseball games during the summer, the NYC Water Taxi is a freakin' gift from heaven. The company, which typically runs ferry services/boat trips out of South Street Seaport, has been offering free - FREE!! - trips to all NY baseball game - Yankees and Mets - for a few years now. I've never taken the Yankee boat, as I'm sure it's filled with "special" fans from Staten Island, and I prefer to avoid those folks as often as I can. But, the Mets boat, filled with only the classiest of sports fans, has been a favorite of mine for a couple years. So, when Scizz, Apologist and I agreed that we'd check this game out, catching the water taxi was my first choice. Added benefits include forcing me to leave work right at 5 pm, rather than a 6 pm departure to get me to the field via subway, and the $5-$6 beers sold on the boat . While Aps had to opt out of the boat trip due to work, Scizz and I - as well as a dear friend of mine - found our way to the boat for the 5:40 departure.
Sidebar: Incidentally, this friend prefers to remain nameless in this post - which I can certainly appreciate - so, I agreed to find her a suitable nickname from amongst the characters in She-Ra: Princess of Power. I've settled on Madame Razz, who was apparently the witch on the show? Who the fuck knows. This line from the wikipedia page sealed it: "Madame Razz is very absent-minded, and frequently mispronounces spells or forgets them completely.." After my friend's performance last night, this seems about right.
Madame Razz: Life-long Mets fan and vehement hater of David Wright.
Anyway....putting aside by recent obsession with childhood television, back to the details of our night.
It was a perfect night for a boat trip, and a great way to pregame any baseball game in the City. Especially since, after consulting with Scizz and Razz, and being the boy scout that I am, I packed for our trip...mini bottles of Crown, Jack and Ketel. Because, really, what's a boat ride along the East River without shots? Don't anyone tell you that I don't think ahead. Unless they're referring to the choice to drink two of those bottles during the boat ride, in which case, yes, my forward thinking may need a little tweaking. But I digress.
Three beers and two shots later, we arrived at Citi. I was in reasonably good shape then - certainly enough to manage a friendly hello to the local fuzz directing traffic, and enough to purchase a couple tickets at the booth. Tickets in hand we met up with the dear Apologist by the Big Apple outside the park, and walked in. A special thank you to the wonderful security at Citi Field, by the way. Concentrating your efforts on guns and bombs, rather than the items actually in my pockets (including two of those aforementioned mini bottles), makes me feel much more positive about this nation's choices with respect to security at large-scale events. Seriously, good work.
It was a perfect night for a boat trip, and a great way to pregame any baseball game in the City. Especially since, after consulting with Scizz and Razz, and being the boy scout that I am, I packed for our trip...mini bottles of Crown, Jack and Ketel. Because, really, what's a boat ride along the East River without shots? Don't anyone tell you that I don't think ahead. Unless they're referring to the choice to drink two of those bottles during the boat ride, in which case, yes, my forward thinking may need a little tweaking. But I digress.
Three beers and two shots later, we arrived at Citi. I was in reasonably good shape then - certainly enough to manage a friendly hello to the local fuzz directing traffic, and enough to purchase a couple tickets at the booth. Tickets in hand we met up with the dear Apologist by the Big Apple outside the park, and walked in. A special thank you to the wonderful security at Citi Field, by the way. Concentrating your efforts on guns and bombs, rather than the items actually in my pockets (including two of those aforementioned mini bottles), makes me feel much more positive about this nation's choices with respect to security at large-scale events. Seriously, good work.
One of the themes of the night, aptly summed up by the Apologist as we walked out at the end of the game, was that we were going to simply enjoy this game no matter what. As Aps said, baseball is great because you can go to a game, chat freely with your friends while only partly paying attention, but never feel that you're missing anything. Sure, maybe you turn your head or are in the bathroom for a big home run, but - if we're being honest - rarely do you see a home run that is any way materially different from the thousands you've seen before. Baseball, a sport that is, by its nature, repetitive, doesn't ask a lot of the fans that come out to catch a game. Which may be why I had no problem piling on delicious Goose Island IPA as the game wore on, and why Madame Razz and I had loads of laughs standing on Shea Bridge, discussing the career of Lastings Milledge - who, incidentally, is not on the Pirates anymore, despite our semi-racist, semi-drunk tendency to think that this guy was Mr. Milledge in disguise, some covert effort to re-enter the league free of his reputation for being an all-around fuck-up. It took Razz a solid 8 innings to be convinced otherwise.
In addition to being the site of offensive comparisons of Milledge and McCutchen, Shea Bridge's girders double as a drum. Gotta have some percussion when those bats fall silent.
So, yeah, I went to the game and was much more interested in drinking and laughing with friends than I was about the play happening on the field. With the Mets these days, though, that's how I roll.
Which isn't to say that I didn't watch, particularly as the night wore on. The Mets' bats were pretty quiet all night. Continuing a recent trend, the team got a small-ball run in the first inning, but failed to put any more guys across, leaving Dickey high and dry as he battled hard and kept the Pirates scoreless through 7 innings. In short, Dickey pitched a fucking gem, and I can't much fault Terry Collins for leaving him in for the 8th inning - he was NASTY all night, and I can only assume that Dickey thought his stuff was still good. Though, why Dickey remained in after giving up the tying run was a weird move. Knuckleballers are hard to manage, I'm sure, since you don't necessarily see the drop off in velocity in late innings - or, at least, any decrease in speed would be pretty irrelevant, since the speed isn't how he's getting guys out anyway. So, again, I can't really blame Collins for keeping him in for the 8th...but, things got real wacky during that inning - a tough hit batsman call, an inexplicable throw from Carlos Beltran which allowed a runner to advance, and then a center field single that put the game away. These things were typical Mets baseball, and it was bizarre to see Dickey - who's also been dealing with foot issues - stay in there through it all, if only because the previous seven innings might have earned him the right to take a seat and not suffer through any more of the disaster playing out on the field.
That being said, I don't blame Collins, and I don't blame Dickey, for what went down last night. The Mets need to score more than one run to win a game, and they didn't do it. Pure and simple. If the score is 4 or 5 going into the 8th inning, maybe Dickey doesn't need to stay in, maybe the Pirates don't bother showing some late fire, and maybe I feel a little better about the lingering hangover I still have. I know that, right now, this team is full of rookies and call-ups, but they still have some decent hitters in the lineup, and those guys have to step up against teams like the Pirates.
So, there you have it. Next trip to Citi will, with any luck, include the Yachtsman as well, and maybe even Megsie, so we're hoping for a more complete DGWU Crew later this summer. If you follow us on twitter, you know that I was none too kind with the Yachter last night, and was definitely lacking in sympathy for the fact that he had just moved, was working, and didn't want to hear my shit about him not coming to the game. Sorry, bud. Such is life when your friends drink too much and resort to twitter during the boring moments of a ballgame. Next time, show up and tell me to eff myself to my face. We'll all be better off.
The plan was to leave you with my theme song of the night - "Sunglasses at Night" by Corey Hart - but I just watched the video on YouTube and it really fucking blows. I may have been a douche and worn my sunglasses throughout the entire evening, but that's no excuse to subject all of you to such a crap song. So, instead, I give you some Buffalo Expat hip-hop from Rabbi Darkside, alum of City Honors, now hailing from Brooklyn. Enjoy.
Which isn't to say that I didn't watch, particularly as the night wore on. The Mets' bats were pretty quiet all night. Continuing a recent trend, the team got a small-ball run in the first inning, but failed to put any more guys across, leaving Dickey high and dry as he battled hard and kept the Pirates scoreless through 7 innings. In short, Dickey pitched a fucking gem, and I can't much fault Terry Collins for leaving him in for the 8th inning - he was NASTY all night, and I can only assume that Dickey thought his stuff was still good. Though, why Dickey remained in after giving up the tying run was a weird move. Knuckleballers are hard to manage, I'm sure, since you don't necessarily see the drop off in velocity in late innings - or, at least, any decrease in speed would be pretty irrelevant, since the speed isn't how he's getting guys out anyway. So, again, I can't really blame Collins for keeping him in for the 8th...but, things got real wacky during that inning - a tough hit batsman call, an inexplicable throw from Carlos Beltran which allowed a runner to advance, and then a center field single that put the game away. These things were typical Mets baseball, and it was bizarre to see Dickey - who's also been dealing with foot issues - stay in there through it all, if only because the previous seven innings might have earned him the right to take a seat and not suffer through any more of the disaster playing out on the field.
That being said, I don't blame Collins, and I don't blame Dickey, for what went down last night. The Mets need to score more than one run to win a game, and they didn't do it. Pure and simple. If the score is 4 or 5 going into the 8th inning, maybe Dickey doesn't need to stay in, maybe the Pirates don't bother showing some late fire, and maybe I feel a little better about the lingering hangover I still have. I know that, right now, this team is full of rookies and call-ups, but they still have some decent hitters in the lineup, and those guys have to step up against teams like the Pirates.
So, there you have it. Next trip to Citi will, with any luck, include the Yachtsman as well, and maybe even Megsie, so we're hoping for a more complete DGWU Crew later this summer. If you follow us on twitter, you know that I was none too kind with the Yachter last night, and was definitely lacking in sympathy for the fact that he had just moved, was working, and didn't want to hear my shit about him not coming to the game. Sorry, bud. Such is life when your friends drink too much and resort to twitter during the boring moments of a ballgame. Next time, show up and tell me to eff myself to my face. We'll all be better off.
The plan was to leave you with my theme song of the night - "Sunglasses at Night" by Corey Hart - but I just watched the video on YouTube and it really fucking blows. I may have been a douche and worn my sunglasses throughout the entire evening, but that's no excuse to subject all of you to such a crap song. So, instead, I give you some Buffalo Expat hip-hop from Rabbi Darkside, alum of City Honors, now hailing from Brooklyn. Enjoy.
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