For the second time in less than a week, I decided to make a spur of a moment decision and head down to the Orioles game at the last minute. As of 6:30 P.M. I had all but settled in for the evening, when I experienced a revelation and decided that Camden Yards was a must for the evening. Well, maybe it was not so much as a revelation as it was a phone call telling me certain background checks had not been verified and I would have Wednesday off. Several minutes later, I'm pulling into the light rail station at Mt. Washington Tavern and flying solo towards downtown Baltimore.
Upon entering the station, I was slightly disappointed that I was not one of the first 10,000 fans over the age of 15 and would not be receiving a free Aubrey Huff t-shirt. Any player who throws aggressive fist bumps after taking Joba Chamberlain deep is a fan in my book, as Joba Chamberlain almost defines all that is wrong with the Evil Empire. Now, after flying solo on the light rail, I got to play another fun game, this time I was playing third wheel as I met up with Chris and Jen in the left field bleachers, that would also be the second time in less than a week that I played that game at the ballpark, although this one was far more jovial. Plus, anyone who knows Chris and Jen, knows that plenty of magic can occur at the Orioles game, not solely just Orioles magic, as it wasn't long ago that a Tejada jersey and a jumbotron started a little magic of their own. Since I left rather late, I boarded the light rail after the first pitch, I missed lot's of early offense on the Rays part,they put up five runs in the second and with each outing I'm beginning to believe more and more that Mark Hendrickson should have taken advantage of his tall frame and stuck to basketball, because the lanky southpaw is certainly no Randy Johnson on the mound. Nevertheless, as a result of 2nd inning shelling the Rays put on, I was able to catch the bottom of the second inning and watch Adam Jones prove that he is The Truth as he went deep for the second time and put the O's in front for good.
Several innings later I ventured away from the two lovebirds, and headed north to meet up with another group of people I knew that were in attendance. While this group may not have been as loving, they were certainly plenty entertaining. Although, at times it was a bit awkward, because one of the females I was sitting with doesn't go anywhere without a penis in her mouth, including Oriole games, and no, that is not a typo. So when your sitting with a girl who doesn't go anywhere without a penis in her mouth and her innocent disapproving sister, there tends to be a few awkward moments. Especially, when you throw in that penis girls, ex-boyfriend and his fraternity brothers are just two sections across to the left. However, I found several people in her vicinity that I could enjoy meaningful conversation with and watch the conclusion of the game, and I must say I was pleasantly surprised, when big George Sherrill came on in the 9th and actually did what a closer is supposed to do.
After the conclusion of the game, I went my separate ways from penis girl and her posse, and once again boarded the light rail, flying solo. With this in mind, I have ridden the light rail home from O's game on numerous occasions. Typically, these ride homes, I am with the companionship or others and am rocking a mild to heavy buzz, last night though, was far different. I was also dead sober. So being that I had no one to converse with, I played the role of the quiet listener, which almost proved to be as much fun. There were two dominating presences on the light rail, and I became a fan of one, and was not quite the biggest fan of the other. The first guy, made Ross and Smedium look like men of average height, which until last night I did not know was possible, unless you were a midget. But, it was more of attitude that impressed me. The little man, was running up and down the light rail, claiming to his buddies that he would get a cougar to have a drink with him at Mt. Washington Tavern and I gotta give it to him he did not lack the confidence as he approached every middle aged woman on the light rail and invited them to the Tavern, although he failed miserably. Despite every rejection though, he went up to the next middle aged women with more and more confidence, convinced that this was gonna be his cougar, even if she was sitting next to her husband. His effort was incredible and certainly merited recognition. He also was starting chants, made friends with a retarded guy, and convinced two large security guards to grab a beer at the Tavern. When he invited me to join in on the festivities, I was more than tempted to oblige, but I had other issues to take care of and had to reject the offer.
The second guy, the one I did not find as amusing, was the definite leader of the group he was with and posted lots of confidence with every remark he said, but it was the fact, that every remark he said was incorrect. He began by talking about how Ryan Zimmerman singled in the first inning to extend his hitting streak to 28 games, while in reality, Ryan Zimmerman singled in the first inning to extend his hit streak to 30 games. After that, he went on about how stupid Andy McPhail is for not trading Sherrill for Jack Cust and at this point I wanted to stand up from out of my seat and smack him in the face. Granted, Cust should be good for 30 dingers a year and Sherrill has his problems, but for starters I believe the Orioles have a pretty good right fielder, have plenty of left handed power, and don't really need a former Oriole who has never driven in 100 rbi's in a season, and strikes out more than Tyson, or myself for that matter when were blacked out and are trying to hit on women at the Kent. As soon as this clown finished his rant on Cust, he went on about how excited he was at the start of the WBC, he was rocking a Roberts USA jersey, when B-Rob was invited to the team, and assuming he was watching the same WBC the rest of the world was, Roberts only joined the team as a replacement after Dustin Pedoria fell victim to injury. To make matters worse, this jackass had his whole posse in awe of everything he was saying, as if was some sort of sport's genius. Idiots, there everywhere.
I just got a text from Jen, informing me that the little drunken punks, eventually started a fight with large African American trainers who worked at Merrit Athletic Club and got kicked out of the game. After reading the text, I almost wish I didn't join penis girl and her friends, because seeing these little idiots in their wife beaters talking smack to large African American men may have been equally if not more entertaining.
Throughout the time it took me to finish this entry, I have had a few phone calls and text messages from both Bobby and Booboo and if there are two more wiggin roommates out there, I certainly would like to meet them.
Game 7 of the Caps-Penguins series is tonight and it should be a classic. The series itself has been a battle, and I should be out somewhere rooting on Ovie and the Caps. Holla at yer boy.
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