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Sunday, November 1, 2015

How I snuck into the 2nd half of a world series game (and learned that T-Mobile is the worst)

So it's been a few years since I've posted on here, but oh my goodness do I have a story to tell.

So the Mets are in the world series!  The mets!  My mets!  Your mets!  After years of heart break and futility, to see them as national league champions was both surreal and serene.  I spent way too much on upper deck seats to game 3 of the NLDS, but it was an amazing game and experience.  As a die hard fan, I desperately wanted to go to a world series game, but it was $560 for standing room only.  Cheapest actual seats I could find were a little over $700 a pop.  I work hard for a modest salary, I have a house, wife, and daughter, and just couldn't justify spending that kind of money.  My brother even offered to pay for me, but I would've felt so guilty about taking that money that I don't think I could have enjoyed the game.

Then I got a phone call.

"Dude.  Check your e-mail and respond right away.  I think we'll be able to go to the World Series."

As it turns out, the e-mail was forwarded on behalf of this company:

As it turns out, T-Mobile had contracted Premier to hire people to throw out free cracker jacks during the 7th inning stretch of game 4.  I (along with many other people), filled out the application online, set up an appointment to come into NYC, brought ID documents to verify my identity, and listened to their proposal.  We were told that we would go into the game, "work a table", and give away these crackerjacks during the stretch.  The downside was that we would have to leave in the 8th inning.  But the allure of making $12/hour to be able to watch at least some of the game?  Amazing.  Even if we had no view point, but could watch on the monitor and feel the electricity of the stadium?  Any die hard met fan would kill for that opportunity.  So I took the job with my buddy.  We figured that we would just haul ass to McFaddens after we had to leave, and hopefully watch our boys tie up the series with as many new best friends as we can make in the bar.  It was a guilt free way to get to the game; one filled with nobility and honor, a working man's way of going to the game but not sacrificing the needs of his family.

Unfortunately, I learned how fucking stupid I am very quickly.

That morning I get an e-mail that says we can't go in until the 2nd inning.  I was upset, but figured some of the game was better than none.  I drove up to Jersey City, met my bud, hopped on the path, walked to the LIRR, and a couple of exciting hours later I was at citi field:

(I don't know how to photoshop).

We met up with a couple of the Premier staff, and this was the beginning of realizing how poorly organized they were.  We were getting apparently randomly put into different groups by letter (group A, group B, group C, etc.)  To be fair, this let people like me be teamed up with my friends, but it still wasn't very well run.

I just happen to over hear the woman who hired me for this tell someone else that we weren't going in until the 5th fucking inning.  When I asked her to repeat herself, she said it again, and if I was out, "I would have to know now."  Hoping that maybe we'd get in earlier, I said I would stay.

The game starts, and we are walking around the stadium.  We were outside for 35 minutes, missed 2 innings of ball, and FINALLY got inside.  And by inside, I mean here:

No, no, those aren't hurricane katrina victims, those are the temporary employees of both Premier and T-Mobile in the basement of citi field.  During Game 4.  Without any TVs, or any bathroom access.  We were brought into different "groups", and provided with pre-ordered subway sandwiches.  It's quite the coincidence that a company that had "NO IDEA" we would be getting in 5 innings later than originally thought would have sandwiches for everyone, isn't it?  The only plus side was access to citi field's wifi, and we could stream the game.  At least we could watch it like we were at home.

At this point, I'm realizing how fucking stupid I am.  This company pulled a bait-and-switch, preying on die hard fans like myself that just wanted to do the impossible: watch the world series in person.  I might as well have found a card table and tried to find the red one.  I was absolutely devastated and feeling horrific.  They knew if they told us the truth, that we couldn't come in until the 5th, and we'd have to leave after the stretch, they wouldn't get anyone.  They lied, they knew they were lying, and they did it anyway.

We were "group Q", but our obnoxiously large pink T-Mobile t-shirts didn't have a sticker on them.  The sticker was supposed to indicate where in the stadium we were supposed to go for the stretch, but the chronic and pathetic organization of this night had left us "sticker-less."  This raging bitch (and I know it sounds bad, but she was awful.  Ever see the SNL sketch where there's a medication women can take to only have their period once a year?  Like that.  She was the fucking worst), kept yelling at us and condescendingly saying things like "WELL STICKER-LESS Q, I GUESS YOU'LL HAVE TO STAND RIGHT HERE."

There was also a pudgy ass douche bag who I think was in charge of overseeing most of the event.  If a hemorrhoid could talk and walk, it would be this guy.  Not only were we blatantly lied to, but they were treating us like absolute shit.  It was at this moment that I knew that there was no way I was leaving after the 7th.

We finally start to come up in the bottom of the 5th, and we're so excited that we're taking a couple selfies in the area:

In fact, we came up just when Conforto hit his 2nd home run.  Holy shit were we pumped and the place was going crazy.  THIS is what we had come here for.  Here's my buddy as citi field is going crazy after the HR

So we're finally up there, surrounded by mets fans, the mets are winning, and at the moment life is good.  We're still be talked down to, but the staff clearly doesn't know how to manage us or where to put us.  They're just making shit up on the fly.  "You're going to the Pepsi Porch.  No wait, stand here, you're going to pair up with Ricardo.  No, Liz is who you report to.  Actually you're going to take these stairs.  GO!  MOVE!"

Michael J. Fox could direct traffic with more accuracy than Premier handled us.  Jim Abbott could play patty cake with more accuracy than Premier handled us.  Jason Bay could have hit a baseball with more accuracy than Premier handled us.  How you can work for that company and not be embarrassed by a night like this, I don't know.

At this point, I knew I could sneak away.

So here's my view during the 5th, 6th, and 7th innings:

Not bad for free!  And all the while, I'm just giving crackerjacks to people ahead of time, because fuck t-mobile.  I'm also talking to a hospitality clerk working in this section of the stadium.  I tell her the whole story, she agrees that it's absolutely terrible.  I ask her for where the best escape routes are, and I've got a game plan.  Nurse Ratched (The 3rd person to be in charge of me in a 40 minute span, she wasn't as awful as the stickerless Q wench, but she wasn't very nice either) is occasionally walking back and forth, but she's clearly not paying that much attention.  Top of the 7th ends (Addison Reed I love you) and it's on.  We go into the section, and it's actually pretty fun.  I make a game of trying to hit the people's hands accurately with these crackerjacks.  I get rid of my supply as quickly as possible.  I come up to the top of the steps, look both ways, no assholes to be found, and I go right down stairs.

As I'm going down the stairs, I take off my XXXXXXXXL pink shirt, and put it into my container for the crackerjacks.  I get to the bottom of the steps to field level, drop it quickly inside the doorway, and steadily walk toward the Shea Bridge.  I see people that I recognize from the citi field bunker we were in previously, but I avoid eye contact, and walk casually on the concourse.  Since I no longer am wearing my T-Mobile bullseye, no one notices me.  I'm worried that everyone will be meeting at the Shea bridge to go down together, so I change course.  I get 1 layer into a standing room only group (actually after I explained what was going on one dude let me get in front of him), and then I watched the rest of the game, for free, outside section 126.

My friend unfortunately was corralled in back to the basement.  He had to go to McFadden's to finish the game.

And then we lost.  God fucking damn it Clippard and Murphy.  And Cespedes.

So I'd just like to give a giant fuck you to T-Mobile and Premier.  I don't know who knew what going into this particular event, but the intent to deceive was retroactively obvious. The people that were hired, or at least the ones I met, were wonderful, nice people, desperate to see their Mets in the World Series.  These people took off of work to travel to NYC, ruthlessly lied to, and then discarded like a wrapper in your pocket that you don't recall putting in there in the first place.

Life is hard.  I never thought I would work as hard to feel as financially inadequate as I do.  That part of life is exhausting enough; but moments like this remind me that you also have to be skeptical of everything.  You can't trust companies or people at face value, because shit like this is common place.  When you are lucky enough to come across companies or people that you know you can trust, realize how blessed you truly are.  They are the very needed anthesis of awful, arrogant, and apathetic shit heads like the ones I dealt with last night.

Would I be as pissed if the Mets had held on like they should have?  I honestly don't know.  But I do know I really resent how I was treated last night, and am not even a little bit sorry about hiding in the stadium for the rest of the game.

And that, is how I snuck into half of a world series game.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Opening Day

Different religions have their days.  Easter for Christians, Yom Kippur for Jews, Muslims even have the whole month of Ramadan.


I have Opening Day.

If you're reading this then you probably fit into one of two categories (or possibly both):

1) You know me personally and are doing me a favor
2) You are a Mets fan and understand the pain that goes along with it

Because let's face it, being a true Mets fan is a perpetual struggle.  It's amazing the sense of entitlement the majority of people have when it comes to talking about the Mets.  They might love baseball, hate baseball, or most commonly in my research, know absolutely NOTHING about baseball, but still feel good about themselves telling you that the Mets suck, usually with a little chuckle that sounds like someone touching a boob for the first time, while pre-maturely ejaculating...probably not for the first time:

Seriously, I wear my Mets shirt out and get shit from people.  I talk baseball at work, and get shit from people.  I post on facebook something Mets related, and I get shit from people.

Well you know what?


Anything can happen.  I mean ANYTHING can happen.  Two days ago I was sitting at home in a Mets snuggie (thanks sis) watching Pelfrey actually look like a major league pitcher.  Twenty minutes prior to that Jason Bay actually had a base hit.  And both Byrdak and Torres played having recovered from injuries.  That's right, RECOVERED from injuries.  If that's not proof that anything can happen, then you can't be swayed.

Mets fans, it is possible that it will never be easier for you to be optimistic about your 2012 Mets than right now.  Let every other douche bag who wants to trash our team do that.  Let ESPN, who ranked the Mets has the 5th worst team in baseball, forget about Santana's return, Niese's curveball, Davis, Wright, and Murphy being healthy, Tejada's defensive brilliance, and the emergence of Lucas Duda.  Crazier things have happened (see Mets 1969 & 1973, Red Sox winning a world series, hell even Arizona making the post season last year.)

But all of this "Ya Gotta Believe" peppiness aside, any seasoned Mets fan needs to be prepared for the absolute worst.  Being one of the least socially adjusted people I know, I can appreciate any assistance to deal with anger, depression, and perpetual disappointment.  So for all of who you might benefit it, I present to you:

The Mets Rant 2012 Guide to Redirecting Your Anger
Because everyone else can eat a dick.

1) The Miami Marlins

There are several places to disperse your anger, but let's start with the obvious:

It's not even that he signed elsewhere.  I get that, and I think that most Mets fans can look beyond the depression of his leaving to understand it too.  But it's the comments that came afterwards.  The fact that he was so giddy that Miami called him at 12:01am.  The fact that the Marlins wanted him so badly.  The fact that he was so pissed off that the Mets never even made him an offer.

Are you fucking kidding me?

The Mets didn't WANT you?  Newsflash dipshit, the Mets wanted you when NO ONE ELSE DID.  They hand picked you out of poverty from the Dominican Republic, gave you a shit ton of money, and sent you to the Kingsport Mets even though you had the size and strength of Calista Flockhart after a hearty meal of rice cakes.

The Mets didn't want you?  No, the Mets didn't want bankruptcy.  The Mets didn't want any Bernie Madoff issues.  The Mets didn't want Major League Baseball to absorb their team like the Dodgers.  They didn't make you any offer because they couldn't match or beat the one from Miami.  And you knew that.  Just be a man and say "I wanted to go where I could make the most money."  We also would have accepted "Yo querĂ­a ir donde pude hacer la mayor cantidad de dinero."

The Mets didn't want you?  Really?  Is that why you saw this in the stands:

Everyone wanted you here.  Maybe even you to an extent.  Just not enough.

Now, as for the rest of these idiots:
1) I just can't possibly see how a clubhouse with Zambrano, Guillen, Ramirez, Logan Morrison, and Reyes doesn't implode within 4 months of playing together.  Between all of the ego and tempers, there isn't any balance in that clubhouse.  Can you imagine Heath "I slide into the pitchers mound" Bell trying to break up a fight between Ozzie and Carlos?  Please.

2) The fan base.  Can you even call it that?  No, we'll call them the posers in the stands, who are treating the new Miami Marlins like celebrities on the red carpet rather than their favorite baseball players.  Can you think of anyone less worthy of a new ball park and talented players?  It's like some rich douche bag taking Tiny Tim's crutch and beating a kitten with it.

In short, fuck everything and everyone to do with the Miami Marlins.

2) The Philadelphia Phillies

Here is what will happen with the Phillies, because they inexplicably refuse to address their actual problems.  Between Utley, Howard, and Polanco consistently hurt, and Rollins not getting any younger, their pitching will get them to the playoffs, and then they will enter in yet another offensive drought and they will get knocked out.  What does this mean for us?  Another 5 months of idiots replacing every "f" with a "ph", 5 months of the worst fans in professional sports flapping their mouths, 5 months of Shane Victorino giving everyone else with Down Syndrome a bad name.

So as your anger is directed here, I have a therapeutic technique that should help you:

Do the Peter Griffin "ssssssssssss....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh............sssssssssssss..........ahhhhhhhhhhhh", while holding your Achilles heel.  We shall here in call this the "Ryan Howard"

(go to about 1:11)

3) The Taliban

Because at the end of the day it is only baseball.  And fuck the Taliban.

Baseball is back baby!  LET'S GO METS!

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Number 8

It's a sad day for baseball when this is taken away from us:

I was born in 1984, so I'm too young to remember him play.  Since the only substantial happiness I can get from watching the Mets involves me watching footage from over 25 years ago, I've grown accustomed to all of the highlights from that year.  The '86 roster has become like folk heroes for Mets fans of my age.  We lament on Doc's electric stuff, Orosco throwing the glove in the air, and of course game six, even though we were teething when all that happened.

So rationally it really makes no sense to be as upset as I am about Carter's death.  I mean there's the obvious sadness that anyone can understand.  57 is much too young, Cancer is a senseless death, he's leaving behind a wife and three kids, etc.  But I never saw him play, I never met him, there's no personal connection to the man (then again, when you think about how worked up we all get over sports, which in itself are essentially meaningless, rationality doesn't come into play here.)

For me though, I think I can rationalize it.  You would never know it from the offensive, profanity laden rants in this blog, but I'm a music teacher.  I write my posts the way I do because I need shock value and inappropriate rhetoric to be funny, I'm not good enough to write without it.  In real life when I'm not putting on a show for this blog, I'm a die hard Mets fan, but my true passion is education.  To quote the West Wing, education is the silver bullet to defeat poverty, ignorance, crime, hate, and all the evils that plague our planet.  I firmly believe that as soon as we figure out how to afford to turn our schools into palaces, our world will become a better place.

What does this have to do with Gary Carter?  It's relevant because I want my students to watch Gary Carter play. I want them to know about the man he was on and off of the field. I want them to know that on a team of drug addicts he maintained his integrity and was accepted because of it (frequently referred to as the "sweetness" of the Mets.)  I want them to know about his desire to teach and improve others around him, whether it was the young pitching staff he inherited in New York or the minor league clubs he managed.  I want them to know about his over $600,000 raised with the Gary Carter Foundation, and that over $350,000 went to schools.

I want them to know what a responsible, good man does with the fame and fortune he earned.

I am so sick of my kids coming into school with Michael Vick and Ben Roethlisberger jerseys.  Sick of Santonio Holmes, Pacman Jones, and any other athlete who has caused substantial harm to others.

I am sick of people like Chris Brown, and equally sick of people who cheer for Chris Brown and endorse his music.

I'm sick of athletes like Hanley Ramirez, who forgets that he plays baseball for a living and is earning more money than any of the rest of us will ever see in our lifetimes.

I'm sick of celebrities like the Kardashians who are inexplicably famous and do nothing with it.

I am sick of my kids looking up to these people who either through hard work or dumb luck have the world at their feet and are in position to do something about it, and don't do a fucking thing with it.

This world can be cold and cruel.  There are a lot of legitimately angry, vengeful, and selfish people out there that can make our lives exceptionally difficult.  At one point or another we all feel broken or down, and if you're anything like me, need the compassion of others to occasionally pick you back up.  I'd like to think that Gary Carter understood all of this, understood the extraordinary position he was in to help countless people with his celebrity, and honored that responsibility to the best of his ability on a daily basis.  It's the only explanation I can come up with as to why so many people only have fond memories of the man.

I am not only going to miss Gary Carter - the final piece of the puzzle for the Mets to win it all, but also Gary Carter - the personification of a good man.  I hope that his character is relayed to impressionable young fans with as much emphasis as his hall of fame career.

Rest In Peace Gary.

Tuesday, December 6, 2011

Why Reyes Leaving is So Painful

So it's been a couple of days.  It didn't even get that much coverage on WFAN or in the news since the Giants and Jets are approaching the end of the season.  But now that the news has settled in I'm beginning to understand layers to why I hate Reyes leaving so much.

First of all, there's the obvious.  We all loved seeing this:

And now we're going to see this:

But it's more than that.

I spoke with my brother when it all went down and he told me "I just can't believe I can't root for someone who has been a Met since he was 16."  In this era of free agency it's increasingly rare to find that true franchise player.  The Ozzie Smiths, the Cal Ripkens, even the Derek Jeters are becoming more and more rare in today's Major League Baseball.

So the more I digest the fact that Reyes is gone, the more I hate that he went to the Marlins.  Not just because he's in the division, but because of who the Marlins are.  They build their team up, they break them down (wash, rinse, repeat.)  They frequently boast the most pathetic, apathetic, and abysmal attendance year in and year out.  Maybe it's something in Florida, because Tampa can't even fill the seats when the Rays are competing for the pennant.

So after years of treating games in Florida as Mets home games because it's retired New Yorkers that move to Florida who actually go to the games, after years of the Marlins pocketing revenue sharing year in and year out, and after the Marlins get the tax payers to purchase their brand new stadium, all of a sudden they decide that they want to be a relevant baseball team and want to make a splash.

Who would have ever thought that THIS would be a financial force to be reckoned with?

If you're going to spend all this money, why not find a graphic artist who isn't horrendous?  Jesus Christ I'm just waiting for Ryan Murphy to put Glee's "nationals" in Miami so he can put his cast in these jerseys.

I just don't feel like the Marlins have earned the right to suddenly be relevant.  It's like when the boss' daughter starts interning at your office and demands special treatment from everyone.  Miami is now the spoiled brat of baseball.  In what seems like a spur of the moment decision, they want to start winning baseball games, and in the process took the heart and soul of the Mets, and will possibly do the same to the Cardinals.

I view baseball as a beautiful, pure game.  Despite all the blessings I've had in my life (and believe me, they are more than I deserve), I find it easy to get bogged down with the pedestrian stress of life.  The morning commute, the politics at work, the persistent financial strain and worries for the future; it can be overwhelming.  But baseball can transform me into a Holden Caulfield-like state.  It's a beautiful game that can be played anywhere, with basically any equipment, by people of any age.  You can sit and marvel at a flawless swing, a filthy curveball, or a diving catch.  You can grab a hot dog and argue statistics, or discuss never-ending arguments like "who is the greatest pitcher of all time?" or "give me your dream line-up."  And when it's over there's a clear winner and a clear loser; a welcomed clarity in what can be mass confusion.

It's an old game, it's America's past time, and it feels like the Marlins just decided they'd like to join the party.  Miami is the douche bag who just realized the flashmob was moved to 12:30.

Obviously I'd find fault with anywhere that Reyes went to.  But if you see Miami land Pujols, you are going to watch the Marlins go from being ignored to being hated.  I just hope their "dream team" works out the same way the Philadelphia Eagles' "dream team" did.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

A Couple Clicks to Help a Lot of Kids

Hi all,

A good friend of mine from college works for "Play Rugby USA," where they bring Rugby to under privileged youth.  Through your votes and support, they could receive a $10,000 donation from Toyota.  Please take a few moments to vote everyday through Tuesday, October 4th.  Thanks everyone!
- JB

Click here: Toyota's Halftime Handoff Facebook page

More information:

Play Rugby USA has been selected to participate in Toyota's Halftime Handoff, a community effort to support sports-based non-profit organizations. Each week, four selected charities are put to a public vote, with the winner receiving a $10,000 donation from Toyota and a short video announcement on the following week's Sunday Night Football broadcast.
This week it is our turn! Voting runs from today, September 28 to Tuesday, October 4 at midnight. If each of you could please take a few minutes to login to Facebook, vote for us, and share it with your friends it would be greatly appreciated. This is a big opportunity for Play Rugby USA as we get ready for the 2011-2012 school year!
To vote:
-Like the page, then click the "Vote Now" button in the middle of the page
-Allow the app access to your profile information (Same as you must do for any third party app on Facebook)
-Select Play Rugby USA, hit "Vote Now", and share it with your friends!
NOTE: Voting is limited to one person per day. Voters must be registered users of Facebook and legal residents of the 50 US States or the District of Columbia.
Thank you again for all of your support!

Monday, August 8, 2011

At Least We're Not Philly

Sunday was referred to as "Bloody Sunday," and I think that's perfectly appropriate.

Look at that expression on Murph's face.  I've walked into and out of funerals looking like this.

So it occurs to me that Mets fans need a pick-me-up.  I know that we probably weren't going to make the playoffs anyway, but losing that game and those players basically sealed the deal.  So I'd like to make this post an enjoyable read, a metaphorical baby blanket that Mets fans can cling to as a source of comfort.  And I can sum this post up in one phrase:

At least we aren't Philadelphia.

I know the Phillies have a great team this year.  I know that the Eagles are poised to make a Super Bowl run.  Even the Flyers are competitive.  I don't give a shit.  It's one of the worst places on Earth.  Let me pick this shit hole of a city apart brick by "asbestos/SARS/TomHanksAIDS" filled brick.

1) Philly is AWFUL AT SPORTS.

It's true!  This recent Philly success is like Halley's fucking Comet swinging by every 75 years.  

  • The Eagles have never won a super bowl
  • The Phillies are the only sports franchise in history to lose over 10,000 games
  • The Phillies have had SEVENTY-TWO losing seasons, including 16 in a row from 1933-1948
  • The Phillies hold the national league record with the most 100 loss seasons.  They have 13.
  • The Phillies hold the record for longest losing streak at 23 games in a row.
  • The Phillies have been around since 1883 and only won the world series twice.
Philadelphia did have a good baseball team.  It was the A's.  And then they left, because if you're a winner, you're going to get the fuck out as quickly as possible.  Why?

2) Philly is awful at rooting for sports teams.

There is just too much material on this point.  Let's choose some of the brilliant moments.  

Exhibit A: See this guy?

His name is Matthew Clemmens.  He was drunk and obnoxious at a Phillies game, and when an off duty police officer's two daughters (ages 11 and 16) asked him to stop, he intentionally vomited on them.  Here's my biggest of many questions:

How the fuck does that thought even enter into your mind?

Listen, I can come up with some ridiculous shit.  I can imagine things like:
  • Taking a group of orphans, dressing them like seals, and then dropping them in the ocean during Shark Week.  
  • Bringing a group of kindergarteners to a viewing of "Bambi" at a taxidermists office.
  • Breaking into an old-folks home, kidnapping a shit ton of Alzheimers patients, and then just dropping them off all over some random ass ghetto.
I've got a messed up head.  And there is no way in holy hell that I would ever even conceive the thought of puking on a some 11 year old kid.

Exhibit B: Philly fans boo Santa.

Now this actually happened in 1968, and obviously this picture is more recent than that, but I'd like to think that when it happened it looked something like this.  For the love of God it's SANTA.  Unless the entire stadium was filled with Jews and they were legitimately upset at Santa's lack of Mitzvahs for his Jewish brethren, then there's no excuse for this.  What assholes.

Exhibit C: The Phillies fans habitually throw batteries at Dick Allen.

Upset with Dick Allen's comments about racial equality in the 1960s, they decided to throw D batteries at him during games.  See that helmet he's wearing?  He had to wear it in the field at HOME GAMES.  I guess Phillies fans wanted to treat him separately, but equally.

Exhibit D: The Michael Irvin Injury.

See this picture?  Michael Irvin got tackled and literally couldn't move.  You know what you can't see from this picture?  Every fucking Philly fan CHEERING.  Tell me any other city where this would happen.

The sad part?  I could go on!  There is:
  • "Don't Tase Me Bro!"
  • Flyers fans beat up St. Louis Blues fans and coach Al Arbour in 1972.
  • Boo-ing McNabb at the draft, and basically every game afterwards.  You've only been to two super bowls and he took you to one of them you fucking idiots
  • And what other city would sign Vick after doing this to pit bulls? (click at your own risk, I'm not posting this picture on the blog.)
All of this and more is why they needed a fully functional jail at the bottom of Veterans Stadium.

3) The "Rocky" Problem.

They idolize a FICTIONAL character.  Never mind the fact that Joe Frazier, one of the greatest boxers of all time, actually grew up in Philly.  Let's worship the fictional fucking boxer who LOST IN THE FIRST MOVIE.

In movies we have seen:
  • Dinosaurs come back to life in Jurassic Park
  • Aliens attack the world in Independence Day
  • Cowboys vs. Aliens (need I say more)
  • Lindsay Lohan doing well in school in Mean Girls
  • Lindsay Lohan sober enough to drive a car in Herbie
  • Lindsay Lohan sober enough to drive a car in Herbie: Fully Loaded

Yet Rocky can't win the fight the first time through?  Really?

Let me put it this way.  I'm a Jersey guy through and through (not Jersey Shore Jersey, I'm actually from Jersey.)  We've had great musicians.  Guys like Sinatra, Springsteen, Jon Bon Jovi, etc.  If I were from Philly, I would ignore all of these legendary musicians and instead idolize Piper Perabo from Coyote Ugly:

Why would I idolize her?  Because she sang in a movie, and because you can't stop the moonlight bitches.

4) Get over the fucking cheesesteak.

Ever watch "Top Chef"?  They recently had an "all star" season.  The winner was a guy named Richard Blais.  Here is what he cooked in the last challenge to win:

I don't even know half of these words!  But legit chefs who cook delicious food know all of this stuff. My point is that IT'S CHEESE ON A FUCKING STEAK, NOT THE POLIO VACCINE.  Some fat ass put two things together and now it's popular.  Does it taste good?  Yes.  Should you really be that proud?  No.  Get over yourself.


Philly is an awful city.  Calling Philadelphia the city of brotherly love is like calling Birmingham the city of racial equality.  The fans are rude and obnoxious.  Having the Phillies represent America's past time literally makes me nauseous.  The reality is that the Phillies games should be broadcast on Al Jazeera TV.

And I'm not the only one who thinks this.
So Mets fans, we have a gritty team that is decimated by injuries.  Regardless, they continue to fight so we can have moments like this:

And since Phillies fans didn't exist prior to 2007, we all know that they will disappear eventually too.  Stay strong Mets fans!

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Reasons to be pissed

I don't know about you, but I feel that I've been failed.  Not just by the Mets, but it seems like by everyone around me.

  • Failed by an American Government who has a worse gambling problem than A-Rod.
  • Failed by the PA drivers who don't understand basic concepts of driving, including but sure as shit not limited to:
    • Turn signal use
    • Left lane avoidance
    • Inability to navigate a traffic circle
    • Inability to drive a different speed than the car next to them
    • Inability to not attempt to change lanes while parallel to said cars
  • Failed by the generic idiotic bullshit that we all have to go through on a daily basis.
And it's really uncalled for.  If you look hard enough you can find stories of perseverance, tenacity, and hope.

See this chick?

Her name is Pamela Salant.  She fell 50 feet and survived for three days eating bugs, caterpillars, and drinking creek water.  If I'm late for work without eating breakfast and I drive past a sonic, I want to pull over and risk getting fired to quench my need for greasy goodness.

Or how about this?

Endured a tragic situation that anyone would have accepted him eroding away in a down pour of endless self-pity.  Instead, he turned the word "Believe" into a mantra for all who will listen.  And I, for one, believe that he will walk again.

Or how about this kid working hard and getting to call that Reyes home run the other night?

This little kid accomplished at age 11 what I have often dreamed of doing.

My point is that life is hard enough.  More often than not we're surrounded by the negative, and the positive moments just seem too few and far between.  

Sports provides us an outlet of escape, an opportunity to get passionate through a platform with a clear winner and loser.  It's something we can vest a legitimate interest in, but at the end of the day doesn't really matter (i.e. think about how you felt the moment you heard Bin Laden was killed in the middle of the Mets/Phils game.)  

It's what makes me come to games early in hopes of getting a ball from batting practice.  It's why I keep a glove and baseball in my car at all times.  It's why my friends and I will play catch around the old Shea Stadium bases, pretending to turn two, throw runners out at second, or work on our "change-ups" and "curve balls".

So as a Mets fan, when I'm looking for something positive to take from my sports escape, the past couple of nights it's left me with one glaring question:


(fun fact, I felt my entire body tense up as I typed that.)

I mean come on Mets.  I've accepted you aren't going to make the playoffs (almost).  I can deal with the games that you lose when you give me your best (kinda).  But Jesus Christ you're representing the most abused fan base on the planet.  When we aren't dealing with jerkoff Yankee fans it's the dipshit Philly fans who have an unjustified sense of entitlement worse than the Kardashians and Hiltons combined (I say this since baseball has been around since the 19th century and Phillies fans didn't exist until 2007.)

So listen to me very carefully Mets.  You got a night off to clear your collective head, so it's time that you watch this video and then follow my advice.

Sweep the Braves like you'd Sweep the Leg.  Then do the crane into Jason Heyward's face.  They're slumping and it's time to take advantage.  Give us Mets fans something to enjoy this weekend and get us within contention of the wildcard.

Make me proud this weekend boys.  LET'S GO METS!