Saturday, August 11, 2007
A night at the Met(s) - Part Two
During the game, I was happy to note that at field level, there are few self appointed cheer-leaders. These are a particularly annoying breed. They think that if they cheer, everyone else should. So they turn away from the field of play towards the crowd, and motion for everyone else to join them. Obnoxious! But not as obnoxious as the guy a couple of rows behind us. He thought he was hilarious, and his boyfriend agreed, thus encouraging him. Both were clearly the worse for their $6.75 beers, and he continued to make up ridiculous, bitchy slogans to yell at the Braves players in a constant torrent. I could be bitchy myself and say that a guy is always funnier to the person sucking his dick (male or female), but will resist. Or not.
The stadium was mostly empty by the 8th inning, even though the Mets had clawed back 3 of the 6 run deficit and seemed to threaten more. By the end of the game, I doubt more than 20% of the original attendees were still seated. As we hit the exit ramp, one thoughtless prick lit up a cigarette. No matter that there were people crowded all around him. He was closer to 60 than 50, had a twisted ponytail, a slight slouch and a swagger that advertised to the world how cool he (thinks he) is. Pathetic!
And so to the 7 train, and our journey home: Sean and I got seats. A father, similar age to me, was with his son and daughter. The kids got seats. Although the father had a bad leg, he told his son to remain seated. His daughter insisted on standing for her dad, but Sean insistent stronger. So father and daughter sat together; he next to me. He joked: “Works every time!” Great New York humour – a self-effacing mix of irony and chutzpah! You’ve got to love it! The train carriage was loud; a cacophony of voices akin to an office party. Some people were holding drinks, even if no wine glasses or beer bottles were in evidence; and there were conversations between strangers, if not mingling, so the analogy seems appropriate.
Two games I’ve seen this year; two sub-par performances (a kind assessment of their performance against the Yankees) and two defeats. Better luck next time!
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The stadium was mostly empty by the 8th inning, even though the Mets had clawed back 3 of the 6 run deficit and seemed to threaten more. By the end of the game, I doubt more than 20% of the original attendees were still seated. As we hit the exit ramp, one thoughtless prick lit up a cigarette. No matter that there were people crowded all around him. He was closer to 60 than 50, had a twisted ponytail, a slight slouch and a swagger that advertised to the world how cool he (thinks he) is. Pathetic!
And so to the 7 train, and our journey home: Sean and I got seats. A father, similar age to me, was with his son and daughter. The kids got seats. Although the father had a bad leg, he told his son to remain seated. His daughter insisted on standing for her dad, but Sean insistent stronger. So father and daughter sat together; he next to me. He joked: “Works every time!” Great New York humour – a self-effacing mix of irony and chutzpah! You’ve got to love it! The train carriage was loud; a cacophony of voices akin to an office party. Some people were holding drinks, even if no wine glasses or beer bottles were in evidence; and there were conversations between strangers, if not mingling, so the analogy seems appropriate.
Two games I’ve seen this year; two sub-par performances (a kind assessment of their performance against the Yankees) and two defeats. Better luck next time!
