Game Notes from last night:
Two dudes in the parking lot, running an extension cord from their Toyota Tundra to a microwave. What are they doing with he microwave? Melting Styrofoam. Why? Who knows? It is best not to initiate a conversation that type of crazy. I can’t help myself though:
Me: What the hell are you doing?
Them: Melting stuff in our new truck.
Them: Because it is fun.
Me: Why don’t you just warm up a burrito or something?
Them: We wanted to make sure this would work so we didn’t torch our food.
White Lady in front of me at the ticket gate with a hot pink shirt with the siloullete of an AK 47? The lettering reads, “It’s because I am Black, isn’t it? Stop AR 47 Ammunition Legislation. I wonder whom she voted for in the last Presidential election. Sigh, it is going to be that type of nigh.t Bye By Miss American Pie Indeed, Mr. PA Dude.
It looks like the 66er are expecting a small crowd for this Saturday night game, even though it is a T-shirt giveaway. The Beer Gardens are closed, as is the bacon hot dog stand. FUCKERS. I guess with the impending apocalypse, people are staying at home with their loved ones. Pussies.
It is 3D Night also — they gave glasses away at the gate to stare at the scoreboard. Too bad that HARD RAIN is on the way. The American Fabric is unraveling.
PA Dude feels it also; transitions into “Born in The USA.”
The T-shirts have something to do with the 3D stuff, and they are so, so UGLY. No wonder the crowd has stayed away. Or maybe it was the six errors that led to eleven unearned runs last night.
“Jack and Diane” – wait, maybe this is the 4th of July mix.
The three main cities that comprise the 66ers’ fan base are San Bernardino, Riverside, and Redlands. Riverside used to have their own team, but the city didn’t let them sell beer, so that team left. Moreno Valley is the next biggest influx, but those fuckers are criminals, and we try to stop them in Ritchie Canyon.
Redlands appears to be in the house tonight – looks like one of their All Star teams is having a Pack The Park Night to raise money. Good thing Little Bads is not here, or he would be heckling the hell out of them.
“Everybody Wants To Rule The World” – no 4th mix – PA dude is feeling the impending loss of innocence.
Kongo’s “Come With Me Now. “I am with you, PA Dude. In fact, I am purchasing this song on iTunes right now.
The Faithful aren’t here yet. I hope they didn’t get into are bar fight. Temecul Blake and Whiskey Jack aren’t here yet either – they might still be at bar.
“Bullet With Butterfly Wings” – yes, PA Dude feels the oncoming onslaught.
PA Dude just switched to cheesy dance music. THE MAN must be onto him.
I feel raindrops. The End is near, and I did not bring a jacket. I brought a flask though.
I think one of the Dance Squad forgot her bra. Unfortunately, the 3D glasses aren’t much help with this particular investigation, but Bernie just came at us out of the scoreboard on a motorcycle. Eat shit, James Cameron. This is a high budget affair here tonight – too bad no one is here. FAILED PROMOTION.
Moreno Valley Pony League is here. Coach lights up players about the way they have line up for pre-gam intros. You guys are sure to go far with that IRON DISCIPLINE!
3D Tricked Out Trickshots. Baseballs on the big screen going through hoops in 3D. I wish I had dropped some acid.
Hey, you know that Esurance commercial with the dude photocopying himself? I just watched it in 3D. I also just watched a balloon filled with nacho cheese explode – in 3D, then in real life. Man, that was awesome.
Dennis Hocking’ little kid is being interviewed. I don’t think there are too many forks in that family tree. His advice for his dad: “Don’t get thrown out of the game, Dad.”
Now the Geico lizard is doing his thing in 3D. There is a sexual element that does not exist in 2D. Is it a tail or a giant cock?
Security is bringing an old lady a rain jacket. How sweet, especially because she will piss in by the third inning.
The cleanup hitter, Gabriel Guerrero, is the Beer Batter. “Gabby” chants have already started, and we aren’t even to the National Anthem yet.
Fiddy is here. I haven’t seen him yet this year. Everyone thought he went to Great Outfield Burm in the Sky. Fiddy is a carney with a heart of gold, and a rolling Christmas display. He is called Fiddy because a very long time ago, he had a jersey made that said “Fiddy: Oldest Rookie in he Cal League. He used to bring cleats to the game – now he brings displays of American flags and and LEDS wrapped around poles. His newest jersey is “Fiddy Five”, but he has been wearing that for years. Unlike most of the Freaks here, he is good people, and a wealth of ORAL TRADITION, plus he can heckle with the best of them.
The Hags are drinking dark beer tonight. Updates to follow, but my bet is they are casting spells again.
Stephen King’s doppelganger is here again tonight.
3D rollercoaster on the big screen. Crowd goes wild.
Microwave Boys just walked by. They are on shrooms, acid, or something else good. Suddenly, their parking lot behavior makes so much sense. I should have been nicer to them.
66er pitcher nails Maverick in the shoulder. PA Dude play Monty Pyhton, “Tis but a Flesh Wound.” TENSION. Benches almost clear.
Is there anything sexier than a college girl eating cotton candy? Yes, Whiskey Jack coming back from the restroom with four beers. You know what that means—the Beer Batter done struck out.
The skies are unleashing. Rats are drowning.
Hot mom walks by with teenage daughter. Daughter’s shirt says, “Game on, Bitches.” Game on, indeed.
High Desert Tweaker (Female) I having a meltdown. Po-Po gently escort her way. She slaps one of the cops. She be going to JAIL.
Khaki Pants goes all dickhead in concessionline because another line opened because of Last Cal Crush. I only know this because my flesh is weak, and we abandoned the Beer Boycott.
Hey Grouch, you are holding up the line with your petty bitching. KP doesn’t like that, but the line backs me up. KP retreats.
“Old age doesn’t make someone an asshole; assholes just get old,” yells Fiddy as KP leaves.
[Fiddy Narrative to follow].
Here comes the flood. Most of the crowd is leaving. The ones who stay, well they are my people. Fiddy wants a picture for his scrapbook.
Sappington is for the save. You know, once this kid’s career is finished, I am going to hire him for something – perhaps my driver, perhaps just to stand in my lawn holding a lantern (no blackface).
66ers win! Hope is still alive.
Whiskey Jack, Fiddy, amd I just sit for a while under an umbrella, watching the grounds crew struggle to put out the tarp.
“It don’t get much better than this” Fiddy says. Fiddy is so right. If Khaki Pants were still around though, I would fuck him up.