All posts by Matthew Callan

Baseball, NYC

Unreasonable Fan Entitlement Theater, Brought to You by the Caesar’s Club

1 Comment

My trip to CitiField earlier this week has to be one of my weirdest ever. (Though it was also highly enjoyable for other reasons, which you shall read about on the interwebs very soon [/tease].) The sparsely distributed crowd contained a disturbingly high concentration of enemy partisans. I’ve been to a bunch of Subway Series games where the ratio of Yankees fans to Mets fans was 1:1, and where loud sections cheering LET’S GO YAN-KEES! would have an angry counterpoint of LET’S GO METS! But I’ve never been to a game where Mets fans were completely out-shouted by the opposition. That happened this evening, and it was disturbing to hear what little crowd there was erupt with each Giant hit or Tim Lincecum strikeout.

However, it’s not Giants fans’ fault for showing up if Mets fans won’t. The situation was a little annoying, but considering how the Mets have played so far and the weather that evening (temps in the low 50s with insane winds to match), it was, sadly, unsurprising. And the Giants fans were simply cheering for their team; none that I saw crossed the line into outright assholery. They were far from the worst people in the park.

For that, I had to go into the Caesar’s Club. This is the section behind homeplate that has a large bar, lounge area, and many higher-end food stands, with a TV in every conceivable spot showing patrons the game. This section is only open to folks with tickets in certain sections, which I possessed (brag). I used the facilities there, and that’s where I found the worst fan of the evening, and possibly ever.

Almost all of the bathrooms at CitiField have piped audio from the WFAN radio call of the game, so you won’t miss a thing while you answer nature’s call. This one was no exception, but it also had a large wall-mounted TV, which was tuned to a Bulls playoff game.

I’m gathering this whole scene all at once as I enter. Along with it, a very large man covered in head-to-toe Mets gear. Hat, jacket, jersey, might have even had Mets sweats on, too. The large man gestured to the TV in this annoyed, harassed way and complained, in typical New Yorker fashion, “You believe this? 50 fuckin TVs out there and you gotta come in here to watch basketball.”

I was baffled by this outburst, for so many reasons. First off, this guy was, again, completely decked out in Mets gear. Unless someone was forcing him to do so at gunpoint, it’s safe to assume he’s a fan. It’s also safe to assume he wasn’t dragged along by a friend, relative, spouse, etc. He made a conscious decision to come to this game and to declare his fanhood via his outfit. If he was that annoyed about missing the Bulls game, why didn’t he just say home?

Secondly, yeah, what jerks the Mets are, forcing you to watch the game they’re playing and not giving you the option of viewing a game in a completely different sport that doesn’t involve any local teams! The nerve!

It just goes to show how quickly fans can go from being underserved to entitled. Shea Stadium had almost no amenities to speak of. There were a few monitors at concession stands to keep you up to date about what was going on in the game, but they were few and far between, especially on the upper deck. The concessions themselves were limited almost exclusively to sausage and peppers, hot dogs, and hamburgers, none of which were very good, and which could only be washed down with terrible beer-swill like Bud or Coors Light (though if you were willing to hunt for it, you could find a stand that had Guinness or Brooklyn on draft–as long as that stand was open that day, which it often wasn’t).

In order to enjoy anything else, you had to go to the field level. But you could only go to the field level if you had a field level ticket. No one else was allowed, not even to patronize the concessions. Despite being such a dump, Shea had rigorously enforced caste system.

For all the other issues it might have, CitiField is light years apart from Shea in terms of what it offers fans. And yet, the more you offer people, the more some people want. The Mets could have give this guy his own private in-seat TV and a pair of headphones, like his own Jet Blue flight, and he would complain about the sound.

It reminds me of Louis CK’s bit about how advances in technology have only made people expect more and brought zero happiness. It also reminded me of my very first trip to CitiField. I saw people wandering the Caesar’s Club almost dumbfounded with awe over all the choices. Now, two years later, the Mets are jerks because you can’t watch the NBA in their plush lounge that serves sushi and exotic rums.

This just in: people are assholes!

NYC, Parental Guidance

The Kid Who Knew Too Much

This may be the saddest and most glorious thing I’ve ever seen.

I’ve just gotten off the L train at Grand Street. As I run through the turnstiles and begin climbing the stairs, I see a mother carrying her child 10 steps above me. What caught my eye was the way she was doing it. She was carrying this boy in his stroller. I’m sure you’ve seen moms in the subway do this, but not the same way this mom was doing it.

This mom was holding the stroller parallel to the ground, hard against her stomach. It was an umbrella style stroller, meaning it was relatively light. (As opposed to those huge baby carriages for newborns. Try lugging that thing on a subway some time.) Even so, the ease with which she scaled the stairs while holding this thing so tightly against her body was amazing. She had the grit and determination of The Mom Alone. I need to get out of this station so I can catch the bus, because if I miss the bus I will not get to X on time and I will be screwed.

But the real kicker was the kid. He looked to be three years old, maybe four at the oldest. His head stuck out from his mother’s side at a right angle, as if he’d been screwed into place. And the look on his face was not one of fear, as he probably should have had, or one of kiddish “whee!”-type excitement, as some kids might.

His expression was one of resignation. Not sad, just a look of guess we’re doing this now. A look far too world weary and wan for a three year old. It was chilling in some ways, and in others hilarious, almost admirable. A child who had no illusions about what to expect from this world, who had no illusions to shatter. He knew at any moment, he would be hoisted aloft, hovered two feet above the ground, placed flat against his mother’s stomach, perpendicular to her, and then finally placed on the pavement when back in the light of day.

Part of me wanted to catch up to them and offer help. But the mom was too fast and already at the surface before I could get close. And anyway, what kind of help could I really offer? Maybe this kid had already figured it all out.

Politics Schmolitics

Your New President: Sultan’s Feast

3 Comments

I’m almost tempted to dump this Trump feature already, since I feel that Obama’s trifecta of releasing his birth certificate, roasting The Donald at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner, and KILLING OSAMA BIN LADEN has destroyed whatever momentum the cancerous little troll once had.

Then again, Election Day 2012 is still a long way away, and anything can happen between now and then. So assuming Trump does not go away any time soon, here’s another item from the man who wants to be our next Commander-in-Chief: the Yelp page for the Sultan’s Feast buffet at Trump Taj Mahal in Atlantic City, which came to my attention thanks to the latest Celebrity Apprentice recap by Tom Scharpling at New York Magazine.

Granted, casino buffets are not the places to go for fine cuisine, and it may be a little unfair to fault Trump for one small piece of his empire. But then again, is it so unfair? Shouldn’t someone who wants to be the most powerful man in the free world have a grip on all the details of his business? I’m inclined to say yes. Plus, these reviews are hilarious.

Keep in mind, eating at this dump will set you back $25, which ain’t cheap where I come from. Sure, it’s all you can eat, but does that matter when the offerings are inedible?

Here’s a few choice reviews:

  • “Like the hotel, the Sultan’s Feast is old and in dire need of a makeover…and I wouldn’t go back….knowing what I know now, I would have rather spent $20 for 2 at McDonald’s than $45 here.  At least with my McDonald’s meal, I would have known what to expect and still would have left satisfied.” — iza p.
  • “It’s not like I expect casino buffets to be any good, but this place was just unbelievably horrible.” — Sallina Y.
  • “Easily the worst meal I had, in a sea of terrible Atlantic City food….the clams were acceptable, but I was frankly too scared to eat them and the crab legs – seemed like a food poisoning accident waiting to happen.” — MaryE M.
  • “the casino tried the old bait-and-switch on us by handing us the wrong coupons.  So we had to wait in a huge line while they straightened it out.” — Chris K.
  • “Oh man! I feel sick. Perhaps one of the more disgusting buffets I have ever had the pleasure of visiting…I was amazed by the amount of food some of these people were inhaling. I’d almost give it an additional star just for the people watching but then again, who really wants to see that?? I left the place feeling impregnated with mac and cheese, with the realization that technically I would never need or want to eat again.” — Danielle F.
  • “The decor here is stuck somewhere between the Brady Bunch and Knight Rider.  My college dorm had food that looked more appetizing and it’s unlikely that the federal government would have even subjected Iraqi prisoners in Abu Ghraib to this fare…My pork chop didn’t look quite right and tasted equally odd.  I couldn’t place it so I had my friend try it.  ‘Dude,’ he said, ‘that’s ham steak.’ Awesome.” — Oksi B.
  • “We went to this buffet for breakfast on a Monday morning and it was TERRIBAD, yes it was so bad that I have to use a non-word to describe it.” — Edward B.
  • “Crab Legs – Samples were tried from 2 separate batches that were brought out over the 30 minutes we were in the establishment and both found that the legs were soft and not conventionally cracked. Spoke to management about the issue and we were blown off!” — Scott V.

But Mary M. sums it up perfectly: “it just don’t live up to a real feast for sultan.” No it don’t, Mary.

Should the man who runs this buffet run our nation? You decide, American voter!