The End of Rocktober, and the beginning of Bronctober

As I sat with Bob painfully sitting through the Rockies self-destruction in the bottom of the 9th inning last night, I couldn't help but think about how much I both love and hate baseball. Here's the list I put together:

Love:
-The season
When the weather is nice and your team is playing well, nothing is better than sitting outside for a couple of hours taking in a ball game. You can miss an inning or two, because nothing REALLY happens that often, and just take in the fresh air with thousands of other drunk people.

- Denver
Where else can you pay $5 for tickets (Rockpile), get a free beer with your ticket stub at the bar down the block, and then $2 beers for the rest of the night at Lodos?
Think about the math.
One ticket $5
+two beers at the game $6 *2
+hot dog $5
+ one free beer plus free beer from a girl who doesnt drink beer but has a ticket stub $2 (tip)
+2 beers from lodos $5 (including tip)
+ a ride home from a DD or mommy/daddy, if they love you $0
= Dinner, 4+ hours of entertainment, 6 beers, and time spent with your friends (and parents for that drive home) ALL for under thirty bucks.
AND at the last game I got two free Rockies face towels. That saved me a trip to Bed Bath and Beyond. BOOYAH. In New York, $30 gets you one drink at a fancy bar and a slice of pizza. Granted it would have to be a really expensive slice of pizza, but still, you get the point.

- Growing up with a team
I love how you watch players go through the minors, play well, get to the majors, suck, go back down, suck, quit for a bit, switch positions, miraculously get better, make the team, suck, then suck less, then jack a 400 foot homer and get crowned the next Griffey. In the end of the day, you get to watch a team that your team essentially has raised the way a father (or several fathers in the management/ownership context) raises babies. I loved how all of our favorite Rockies were drafted and got us where we were in the playoffs as players from within the organization, not stupid free agent signings to bribe players over for big bucks.

- Camaraderie
Nothing warms me up inside like yelling Tulo's name on repeat between claps next to my best friends, or giving high fives and yelling "Let's go" with random kids wearing Rocktober shirts in bars in NYC. Seriously, I think I hugged more men during baseball season than the straight community would ever accept as standard hetero behavior. Trust me. I hugged a lot of men.

THINGS I HATE

- Division Play
I'm really sick of the way the MLB schedule is set up. I shouldn't have to watch the Dbacks and Padres play my team every other week and wait for the couple weeks a year when I get to see AL teams. It is a proffessional LEAGUE, where the best players in the world come to play, yet each team doesn't get to play against all of this amazing talent. Every other sport at least attempts to give teams and fans an opportunity to see all that the sport has to offer, and I'm supposed to wait until the fucking world series to see how my team fares against the Yankees? I don't like it.

-The Red Sox
I put them first of the two teams I don't like because I not only don't like them as a team, but I don't like them as a people. Red Sox nation is full of unhappy ugly people who deserved to lose because they sit around thinking their team is superior to the world, giving stats about why they're so good, without noticing that other teams exist. Even though they are already out of the playoffs, F the Red Sox.

-The Yankees
I may take this back. Hell, if I could spend $200 Million to make my team fucking sweet, I would. But I don't have $200 Million. And if I did, I wouldn't pay other people to play baseball; I'd give some money to charity, make sure WashU built a new gym and gave more scholarships, and ski every day for a long time. And I'd take everything that Mastercard has said "there are some things money can't buy" and try to buy it. That would be a fun project.

-Losing
We lost. I'm sad. Losing blows, especially when you had the lead with 2 outs in the 9th. I now know how the Cubs feel every year all year.

Now the season is over, and it's time to move on. Luckily, the Avs are playing really well, and the Broncos are 5-0, hence the new hot word "Bronctober." I think I like writing about sports, so I'll have more, shorter posts about my thoughts in the future. Until then, Happy Belated Canadian Thanksgiving!

I feel misunderstood

Before I continue my summer recap, I thought it would be nice to document a couple of confusing situations I have been engaged in since I moved to New York two days ago. Here goes.

Bob and I went to an improv show the other night after our plans to go to the Mets Rockies game were demolished by torrential rain. We saw a good show, then saw an amateur improv show where any groups that wanted to could sign up and perform. Don't worry, we didn't sign up. But as we sat down in our seats, a man passed us with the logo below tattooed to his arm:

He was a rockies fan! We had so much in common! Bob and I both yelled "ROCKIES!!" to which he looked back with confusion, noticed our fingers pointing at his tatt, and replied "nah nah nah It's crips. Ya'll crips?"

This was a misunderstanding. I assumed Rockies, but he was a gang member. When I told this story to Jared C., he asked what color the tattoo was. Sadly, the dark blackness of this man's skin inhibited my ability to distinguish between a purple and black tatt (baseball) and red tatt (hood). I felt terrible.

Misunderstanding #2:
We went to Wendy's late last night. I ordered a Dr Pepper and a Junior Bacon Chee, and Jared C. orders a crispy chicken sandwich. Mine takes a while, and while I was waiting Jared and Bob went to sit down. I waited for 5 minutes before she asked who was also waiting for 2 Crispy Chickens. I looked back at a hungry Jared C, and replied "Yah that's my friend, I'll grab it for him." I waited a couple of minutes, got the food, then walked to the table. When I arrived, Jared was already eating a crispy chicken sandwich.

I had taken someone else's Crispy chickens. I figured that person may have forgot ordering them, so if I waited long enough and didn't get caught I'd be two fried chicken slabs richer. I put them on the table next to me, and within 2 minutes the angry woman from the counter came storming towards me with an evil look like I was her baby's daddy and just got custody. (sidenote: I'm not racist. It's just coincidence that she was black, served me fried chicken, and gave me the baby daddy look. Don't hate me) She asked where the chicken was, and I pointed nervously to it on the table next to us, as though I was trying to pass the blame off on the table for being the sandwich thief.

I keep getting misunderstood in this city. Lets hope that changes.