Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Another Double Play

Where to even begin...if you read the post from yesterday afternoon immediately below this, you know that SF-Chuck-B came through at the eleventh hour with some sick tickets for Game 1 of the ALDS. So we said goodbye to our idiotic plans to see Wilco at Radio City over watching the game en un televisor and ran to the subway for the first game versus the Twinkies. And obviously, my predictions for this series, and even the other ones, are so far dead wrong. Dead wrong.

Well, I thought I had the craziest seats ever at the Stadium last month, when we sat second row on the right side of the Yankee dugout. Last night, though, we were one section over towards the players, and literally touching the dugout. These seats were easily in the upper 1 percent of seats in the whole Stadium, and they were free. Well, face value was about $150 per ticket, but free to us. I felt like I was in Canada, everything seemed free. It's nights like this that make me say to myself, "Money may not buy happiness, but I need to be rich enough to have these seats for the rest of my life." My family and I (and many others) refer to the kind of wealth needed to maintain these seats as season tickets as "Fuck You Money," and it's certainly nights like last night that I realized I need lots of it.

Watching a game from this close a vantage point is a lot like being on the set of an adult film, chilling in the reclining chair right next to the bed. And when the actors finish and get up from the bed, you can yell "Hey Jenna, great work out there," and she actually looks at you with a wink and a smile before heading inside her trailer. That's how close to the action we were. Jeter actually gave the little kid next to us a fist pound coming into the dugout after the 5th inning or so. He's dreamy.

For some reason, I can't upload any of the blurry camera phone pictures I took of the boys on the field, but we were no greater than five feet away from Jeter and Sheff and Hideki and the fellas all night long. I felt like a parent in the stands at a little league game, only this was Yankee Stadium, these were the Bombers and the Twins and I didn't have to bring the orange slices. In fact, they actually brought shit to me, thank you overpriced clubs service at the seats. But much like Jerry and first class, I don't think I can ever go back without sitting that close. After A-Rod got robbed at the wall by Torii Hunter, we heard him say as he came back to the dugout "You've got to be fuckin' shitting me." Sexy Jeter acknowledged me with a little facial contortion after I yelled "Let's get it going right now" to him before the bottom of the 6th inning. Sheff pointed at me when I repeatedly screamed "MVP" in his face. You honestly can't put a price on these kinds of memories. It changes your whole perspective on the game.

The sad thing, though, was that we also had a front row seat for three tailor-made 6-4-3 double plays, in addition to the other two DPs turned on the Yanks. The Yankees just didn't come through for us. Maybe they kept wondering who that hoarse fucker (not horsefucker, you clods) was in the front row who kept screaming for no apparent reason. Maybe Jeter and Big Stein went dancing again last night and stayed out to late charging Cosmos and shit to The Boss' Visa check card. Maybe Bernie bet someone he could hit into a few double plays, just to keep his streak of one per game alive. This fuckin' guy should change his uniform number from "51" to "6-4-3." No matter what the reason, the Yankees just couldn't hit when it counted, going 0-6 with runners in scoring position, squandering key opportunities after getting the lead-off man on in five of the first six innings, running ourselves out of the first and second innings with poor baserunning, although I like that we were taking chances.

We got to Santana, we absolutely 100 percent got to Santana, we took the fight to him like I said we would. But he made the big pitches when it counted and, as I said, got the Yankees to hit into five double plays, a post-season record. Let me tell you, watching this guy pitch from no more than 15 feet away is a thing of beauty. He throws three devastating pitches, and they all look EXACTLY the same from his release. This may be the up-up-and-away Captain Obvious thought of the day, but I think this guy is clearly entering a Pedro circa 1999 stage right now, and he may not come out of it for a few years. If he doesn't tinker with his delivery and continues to throw these three pitches so well and so similar, it's nothing but lights out for opposing hitters. Was that too Larry King in USA Today for you guys?

Well, I said the Bombers would win in four games tops, and I still think that's possible. Hey, we lost the first game last year and still came back to win the next three. Only I'd love to have a healthy Andy Pettitte on the roster right now, our permanent Game 2 stopper. I heard last night that Jon Lieber is the first Yankee pitcher not named Andy Pettitte to start Game 2 of an ALDS ever. Yes, ever, until this year Pettitte had started all nine ALDS Game 2's since the start of this format in 1995. That's craisins.

I have faith in Jonny Liebs, and as my buddy Dorsey Levin pointed out: "Joe Girardi was great in the post game last night. I've never seen someone so adamant about another guy's ability to remain unfazed by his surroundings as Joey G is about Liebs. I thought he was going to jump out of his seat and tackle Kay." Maybe he just shoulda tackled Kay. He deserves it sometimes. Anyway, Yankees in four, Samson Simpson, I stick by my story.

Unrelated to beisbol, here are a few cool stories that caught my eye:

--Howard Stern is jumping ship to Sirius Satellite Radio starting in 2006. I'm not a Howard listener, haven't been in years...but I want this guy to give 'em hell. Clear Channel sucks, I truly think companies like CC and News Corp. are doing more for the downfall of traditional democracy than any other source. This is a MAJOR move, and this could be the official beginning of satellite radio in every car, in every home. It won't happen right away, but this is the catalyst. This is what it takes. Now you've got Opie and Anthony on XMSR, former NPR host Bob Edwards is on XMSR, and now Stern jumps to Sirius. In the next five years, satellite radio is going to be as common as satellite television. They say Sirius is pumping in $100 million a year into Howard's show...they need an additional one million subscribers to cover that cost. I think they'll not only get it, but they'll get it big time. It's all happening. Kick CC's ass, Howard.

--RIP, Rodney Dangerfield. I never got into his stand-up really, but as a comedic actor, he's simply a genius. This guy can crack me up when I'm in my worst moods ever, he's unbelievable. He was also a major pothead until he died, something I can definitely get behind. My favorite Rodney lines, in memorium:

Caddyshack: Wonderful boy, nice boy...I'll tell ya, now I know why tigers eat their young. (honorable mention: Oh, this is the worst-looking hat I ever saw. What, when you buy a hat like this I bet you get a free bowl of soup, huh? Oh, it looks good on you though.)

Back to School: Bring us a pitcher of beer every seven minutes until somebody passes out. And then bring one every ten minutes. (honorable mention: What's your favorite subject? Poetry. Really? Well, maybe you can help me straighten out my Longfellow.)

Ladybugs: A girl doesn't give the opposing team the finger. A girl doesn't call the referee a blind bastard. A girl doesnt slap another girl on the ass and say, "You're hot stuff!" And a girl doesn't say "I gotta take a leak so bad I can taste it!"

--Good work by NBC Nightly News. There was a picture of this on the Drudge Report, but they took it down before. Looked pretty funny. You may say, "Hey, the camera only had Bush's head there for 16 seconds" but trust me, that's a lot of time in television shots. Great work. he does lie. A lot.

--This is an old story, but the lawsuit is the new aspect. Either way, I loved it when it happened, and I love it now. This guy is an NFL star, and his senior year in college he shit in some chick's closet. Classsssic. Favre loves it.

That's all for now. Fuck off.


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