“I have a vision that one day baseball fans will be forced to wait in line to go through metal detectors to see the greatest game ever” ~ Babe Ruth on a meth binge.
And so on a hot and humid day in the Bronx the first place Yankees finished their homestand against the Baltimore Race Riots.
Baltimore started Bud “Kind to children and animals but sucks at baseball” Norris (1-4 9.88) while the Yankees started Michael “It rubs the pine tar on its skin or it gets the hose again” Piñeda (5-0 2.72).
Baltimore scored, or in the parlance of the hip crowd, “plated” first when short stop J.J. “I extend this laurel and” Hardy “handshake” hit a 2-2 pitch over the left field wall. 1-0 Baltimore after 1 1/2.
Los Yanquis broke through in the bottom of the fourth, scoring four times. After a Brian McCann ground out Carlos Beltran hit a 3-2 pitch over the right field fence. Chase Headley then walked and Stephen Drew singled. Didi Gregorius, who being the Yankee shortstop after Derek Jeter must feel like the act that had to follow the Beatles on the Ed Sullivan show, singled home Headley and moved Drew to second. Jacoby Ellsbury then hit a full count double scoring Drew and Gregorious. 4-1 Yankees after four.
In the bottom of the fifth Brian McCann homered deep right. 5-1 Yankees after five.
In the bottom of the seventh after walks to McCann, Beltran and Drew, Gregorius doubled home Drew. 6-1 Yankees after seven. They might have gotten more runs but Gregorius was out trying to stretch it into a double.
Baltimore got a run back in the top of the eighth when Adam Jones singled home Jimmy Paredes.
Final score: Los Yanquis 6 The Race Riots 2.
Piñeda was masterful, striking out 16, including both Ryan Flaherty and Caleb Joseph three times. Twice, in the second and the fifth he struck out the side. He also did not walk one batter. Finally it looks like we got the better of the Piñeda-Montero trade as Fat Jesus lingers in the minor league system for Seattle.
Notes on the game:
Today was Mother’s Day and as all professional sports must do now, the Yankees assumed the position to placate women. Pink sneakers, bats and undershirts were what most players wore. The pink was to remind us of breast cancer.
I think we’re all pretty fucking aware of cancer. I know I am. But you see women are temperamentally and biologically incapable of happiness. As such their goal is to make every man around them as fucking miserable as they are. And how do they do that? By inserting themselves into everything that makes men happy.
Men like watching sports. It makes up happy and relaxes us. And women can’t have that. It’s bad enough women have destroyed the NFL. Now I can’t watch a fucking football game without being bombarded by PSAs by unctuous actors telling us that domestic violence is “wrong.”
Really? No shit Sherlock.
I know domestic violence is wrong. So do the overwhelming majority of men. We don’t have to be told this. And it’s not like the minority of men who are beating their wives are seeing these PSAs and saying, “Oh, right. It’s bad. I shouldn’t do this.”
But these commercials reinforce women’s feelings of victimhood and their worldview that the male oppressor pig is out to get them.
It’s the same with the pink wristbands. Breast cancer is another way the man keeps women down.
Now onto the metal detectors. The Lords of Baseball have decided, for our safety of course, that metal detectors must be placed at all ballparks.
Why? Was it the shocking number of terrorist attacks against baseball stadiums the past 15 years? So now I have to empty my pockets, take off my hat, lift my shirt up and place all my possessions in a box while I walk through the detector.
What else can baseball do to drive the fans away? Let’s see. Obscenely high ticket prices? Check. Obscenely high concession prices? Check. Oh wait, let’s make the fans get to the ballpark early just so they can be patted down by 300 pound minimum wage workers with wands.
Best heckle of the game:
I tried but my heckle of “Thou art a beaten dog beneath the hail, a swollen magpie in the fitful sun” didn’t fire up the crowd. I guess it’s true. The masses don’t appreciate poetry.
Recommended reading: The Pisan Cantos by Ezra Pound.
A.P. of Poughkeepsie, New York writes, “I have a gun!”
When our next civil war breaks out I shall offer you my services in return for protection.
Cal Hockley, late passenger on the Titanic writes, “I have a child!”
I wish I had thought of that. It might have gotten me on one of the lifeboats.
Doctor Who of the former planet Gallifrey writes, “I have a sonic screwdriver.”
Is that a drink? If not sit down and regenerate punk. You’re annoying me.
Best comb over of the game goes to this unfortunate man:
My record this year stands at 1-1. My next game is Memorial Day against the Kansas City Royals.
If I may close on a personal note, my aunt passed peacefully Sunday morning after battling cancer for five months. No, the doctors in the hospital were not wearing pink. Why not? Perhaps they just hate women.