Baseball, Pointless Nostalgia

Shea Shea, Blown Away, What More Do I Have to Say?

Pour some criminally overpriced Bud Lite on the curb tonight for Shea Stadium, which officially ceased to exist earlier this morning.

I’ll miss the dump, don’t get me wrong. I saw my first baseball game there, and saw some incredible games there (both in the good and bad senses of the word), but I am more than ready to see games at Bernie Madoff Field.

My only fear is that the fan experience won’t be enhanced at all. Because the aesthetic deficiencies of Shea were only part of the reason why it was not a great place to watch a game. You judged your game-going experience by how few things went wrong. It was a successful day if your beer wasn’t 90% foam, or if you didn’t watch a vendor sigh and huff because you asked them for a pretzel.

Sure, the new ballpark is supposed to have spiffy restaurants, games for the kiddies, and other neat amenities. But that won’t mean much if said amenities are run by the same incompetent, apathetic morons who ran Shea’s concessions.

It’s not that I need extra bells and whistles to enjoy a game. I’d watch the Mets in the middle of an active volcano if that’s where they played. However, I don’t think it’s too much to ask that, when you pay a lot of money to enter a ballpark, your customer service experience should never be described by words like “insane,” “frustrating,” and “ordeal.”

If you want a glimpse as to how the Mets treat their fans, look no further than Jason of Faith and Fear and Flushing, and the condition of the genuine Shea seats he ordered. That’s how the team treats treasured memorabilia bought by loyal fans at $869 a pop. You can extrapolate from there how they treat folks who spend a mere $15-20 dollars for a hot dog and a beer.

Cinematics

Quentin Tarantino’s Notes for “Inglorious Bastards”

* Take diner scene from Reservoir Dogs, do find/replace: “Madonna” = “Andrews Sisters”, “Like a Virgin” = “Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree”

* Use big role in flick to revive career of one of the following: John Casale, Stacy Keach, Charles Nelson Reilly, Barbara Mandrell, Jim J. Bullock, Joey Heatherton, Peter Noone, Mitzi Gaynor

* Can Samuel L. Jackson play FDR? If not, must redo “Fireside Chat” scene, remove all instances of “motherfucker”.

* Create pointless affectations for Brad Pitt’s character: Southern accent? Pimp cane? Monocle? Infantry rifle covered in jewels?

* Just found out John Casale is dead; have Tina send flowers.

* For duration of film, Nazi will be pronouced Natt-see. Also, sandwich = sammich, toilet = turlet, and bird = boid. Hire Billy Crystal as a speech consultant.

* According to research, the Red Skull wasn’t real. May affect climactic battle scene in enormous poison-filled zeppelin floating over LA.

* Look at old flicks; have I lifted anything from Dario Argento yet? If so, did anyone notice?

* Must cast Hitler as mincing and ineffectual as possible.

* At 90 minute mark, insert 20-page rambling story from my My Box of Speeches That Will Grind Film to a Complete Halt.

* Must make movie bad-ass enough to overcome retarded title for final chapter, “Revenge of the Giant Face.”

Baseball

A-Rod’s Apology

aroid.jpgTo all the Yankee fans, baseball fans, and sports fans out there, I would like to humbly apologize for getting caught doing steroids. I promise that, in the future, I will restrict my performance-enhancing drug use to designer chemicals still untraceable to known science.

I ask that those who would judge me put themselves in my shoes. I had just signed a huge contract with the Texas Rangers. A ridiculous contract. I mean, good Christ, you can’t even imagine how much money that is. Like, Oprah money. Therefore, people who want to criticize me should first prove that they have as much money as me. Otherwise, I think they’re unqualified to judge my state of mind.

You also have to understand that I tested positive in 2003, a much simpler time. I know that’s only 6 years ago, but think about how much we’ve changed as a society in just that short amount of time. You know what came out in 2003? “Rock Your Body.” That was, like, Justin Timberlake’s first big solo hit. Everyone was still like, “pfft, the guy from NSync? He’ll never have a sustainable pop career!” Now the guy’s huge! How far we’ve come…

In 2003, I was young and dumb. Sure, I was already 25, and married, and had already done more things and seen more of the world than most people my age. But I think “young and dumb” is a relative term. I’m young and dumb compared to Einstein, who is smart and dead. See? Science proves it.

If you want anyone to blame for destroying your illusions, go talk to my cousin from the Dominican. He’s the one who got me the steroids and showed me how to use them. I mean, don’t really go talk to him, because I totally can’t give you his name. But trust me, that guy’s bad news.

Also, I have this other cousin who totally let me touch her boob one Christmas when I was 13. Is that weird?

Speaking of the Dominican, I hope no one perceives my sudden acquisition of a Latin accent as some sort of pandering ploy for sympathy from Hispanic baseball fans. Because it totally is.

In conclusion, I look forward to putting this all behind me and once again disappointing Yankee fans solely on the field.

A potentially explosive collection of verbal irritants