I'm Wet! I'm Hysterical and I'm Wet!
Well, actually, I didn't end being as wet as I thought, but last night's game certainly had more than enough to make me hysterical.
Okay, rewind: at this time Thursday afternoon, I was ecstatic and eager and all those other E words that mean happy. Why? Because due to unforeseen circumstances, JenGal from the SG Message Board ( that repository of all things Sox) had two extra tickets for the first game of the A's series., and I was going to the game with her and fellow messsage-boarder Deb. And Schill was pitching. And it was raining, but other then that, all was right with the world. I had my umbrella, and my large pink poncho which makes me look like either a Mario Bros. character or a fey Jedi Knight, and I was prepared.
Which, apparently, was more than could be said for Schilling. Or our OFFENSE.
So, Schill was schakey, our hitters sucked, we lost, and I'm not going to talk about it. Instead, you get a selection of Bleacher Bon Mots, courtesy of the warped minds of me, Jen and Deb. (Or at least those that I remember. Since there were three hours of them.)
(watching Edgar and Manny do the backwards running drill simultaneously)
Deb: Wow. They almost morphed into one person there.
Jen: I expected them to break into a Broadway dance number at any moment.
(staring at the bullpen waiting for the game to start)
Emma: Is it possible that Schill's new dye job looks even stranger in person?
Jen: It's even shinier when it's combined with the green of the field.
(listening to the rest of the crowd)
Emma: It's interesting comparing the relative levels of booing for ex-Red Sox.
Deb: Yeah, there's intense booing for Payton, while the booing for Hatteberg is more half-hearted.
(watching an ungodly amount of beach balls emerge from the bleachers around us)
(well, there really aren't any words for that)
(watching a proposal on the Hancock scoreboard)
(Papi comes up to bat)
Deb: Come on, Papi, hit a homerun for them. I mean, she just said yes, you have to. You can't have "i said yes, but then Papi struck out..."
(Papi pops up)
All of Us: Oh man.
(Having a Wave spring up in the bleachers, die in a certain section of the grandstand repeatedly, and the bleacher creatures boo the grandstand)
Emma: Oh, just do it once please, so they will SHUT THE HELL UP! (Pause) Waves are really annoying when we're losing.
(reading that one of the As has the second most homers ever hit by a player from North Dakota)
Jen: They've really started scraping the bottom of the barrel up in the info booth.
Emma: Yeah.
Deb: Next it'll be "which Libra has the most HRs with Venus ascending".
(lull)
Jen: Well, somone somewhere must have crunched those numbers.
Emma: Maybe one night when Bill James was really really drunk...
(when we're losing wretchedly in the bottom of the ninth, and the umpires rule Billy's home run a double)
Emma: HEY CHRIS GUCCIONE, YOU SUCK!
(everyone around us looks at me)
Jen: (pause) Way to remember the umpire's name.
So I ended up not too soggy, unhappy with my baseball team, but having enjoyed the company thoroughly. 2 out of 3 ain't bad.
But, Red Sox: Doesn't mean I've let you off the hook though. 1.5 is too slim a lead.
WIN TONIGHT. WIN TOMORROW. AND GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR.
Okay, rewind: at this time Thursday afternoon, I was ecstatic and eager and all those other E words that mean happy. Why? Because due to unforeseen circumstances, JenGal from the SG Message Board ( that repository of all things Sox) had two extra tickets for the first game of the A's series., and I was going to the game with her and fellow messsage-boarder Deb. And Schill was pitching. And it was raining, but other then that, all was right with the world. I had my umbrella, and my large pink poncho which makes me look like either a Mario Bros. character or a fey Jedi Knight, and I was prepared.
Which, apparently, was more than could be said for Schilling. Or our OFFENSE.
So, Schill was schakey, our hitters sucked, we lost, and I'm not going to talk about it. Instead, you get a selection of Bleacher Bon Mots, courtesy of the warped minds of me, Jen and Deb. (Or at least those that I remember. Since there were three hours of them.)
(watching Edgar and Manny do the backwards running drill simultaneously)
Deb: Wow. They almost morphed into one person there.
Jen: I expected them to break into a Broadway dance number at any moment.
(staring at the bullpen waiting for the game to start)
Emma: Is it possible that Schill's new dye job looks even stranger in person?
Jen: It's even shinier when it's combined with the green of the field.
(listening to the rest of the crowd)
Emma: It's interesting comparing the relative levels of booing for ex-Red Sox.
Deb: Yeah, there's intense booing for Payton, while the booing for Hatteberg is more half-hearted.
(watching an ungodly amount of beach balls emerge from the bleachers around us)
(well, there really aren't any words for that)
(watching a proposal on the Hancock scoreboard)
(Papi comes up to bat)
Deb: Come on, Papi, hit a homerun for them. I mean, she just said yes, you have to. You can't have "i said yes, but then Papi struck out..."
(Papi pops up)
All of Us: Oh man.
(Having a Wave spring up in the bleachers, die in a certain section of the grandstand repeatedly, and the bleacher creatures boo the grandstand)
Emma: Oh, just do it once please, so they will SHUT THE HELL UP! (Pause) Waves are really annoying when we're losing.
(reading that one of the As has the second most homers ever hit by a player from North Dakota)
Jen: They've really started scraping the bottom of the barrel up in the info booth.
Emma: Yeah.
Deb: Next it'll be "which Libra has the most HRs with Venus ascending".
(lull)
Jen: Well, somone somewhere must have crunched those numbers.
Emma: Maybe one night when Bill James was really really drunk...
(when we're losing wretchedly in the bottom of the ninth, and the umpires rule Billy's home run a double)
Emma: HEY CHRIS GUCCIONE, YOU SUCK!
(everyone around us looks at me)
Jen: (pause) Way to remember the umpire's name.
So I ended up not too soggy, unhappy with my baseball team, but having enjoyed the company thoroughly. 2 out of 3 ain't bad.
But, Red Sox: Doesn't mean I've let you off the hook though. 1.5 is too slim a lead.
WIN TONIGHT. WIN TOMORROW. AND GET YOUR ASSES IN GEAR.
posted by Emma at 3:52 PM
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