ALCS Game #2 2012: Yankees vs. Tigers

Last week, we asked you what your favorite part about our ALDS experience was. No one chose the fratada or PINK loves the Yankees. Okay, so PINK wasn’t very funny, but that fratada sh*t totally was. You guys suck. As always. 2 of you actually chose our grotesque eating habits. You’ve got to be kidding us. Seriously??? That is so disappointing. 1 person chose “Wood.” That was funny also, but why did only 1 individual choose it? There’s only 1 pervert in this bunch? We’re starting to think that we have nothing in common with you people.

Anyway, onto to the purpose of this blog. Our delightful experience at Game 2 of the ALCS. Obviously, we know how this story ends for the Yankees. They sucked penis. They couldn’t hit water if they fell out of a boat. The sad thing is that for the most part, their pitchers kept the Yankees in the game, but when your starting pitcher makes 1 lousy mistake and gives the opposite team a run, that can’t be it. You NEED to give your pitchers some wiggle room.1 run can’t be a death sentence. It’s not fair to your pitcher. Or the fans that paid a lot of money to get drunk at your game. You’re suffocating your pitcher and now you’re suffocating your fans. Don’t suffocate us, man! Oh, and by the way? We’re at a bar drinking right now as we blog.

We arrived at Yankees Stadium with enough time to grab a beer at Stan’s. The placed was packed out, but the bartender was the very definition of efficient and he serviced us like a mother f*cking champion. We drank our beers near the doorway to make room for the customers still pouring into the bar.

Since we only had about 15 minutes before first pitch, we sucked our beers down. And when we say “sucked down,” we mean that we literally couldn’t have drank our beers any faster unless we drank them with a straw. From Stan’s, we jogged across the street to Yankees Stadium, sped walked up the billion ramps to our section (no stairs. We learned our lesson from the Damon Runyon 5K), purchased a pair of hot dogs and beers, and headed to our seats just in time for first pitch. Side note: we’ve decided that these are the best seats ever. Look at this friggin’ view. It’s perfect:

Nothing was obstructed from these seats, except for Nick Swisher, but seeing as how he played like a total douche nozzle this postseason, we really didn't want to see much of him to begin with. We want these seats for every single game we attend at Yankees Stadium. We do not care if these belong to season ticket holders. We demand that Section 305, Row 3, Seats 14 and 15 be issued to us. Don’t the Yankees know who we are?

Our hot dogs were pretty good. Not as good as a sausage, but tasty nevertheless. What can we say? We were on a budget. Money was tight and we pretty much spent 90% of our cash on beer. We’ve got our priorities in order.

Our pitching matchup was Hiroki Kuroda and Anibel Sanchez. This was disappointing because Serena still felt strongly that we deserved The Big Texan and the Yankees purposefully blew it in the ALDS just to piss us off and prevent us from having quality time with Andy Pettitte. Those f*cks.

Oh! And we should mention that Derek Jeter had hurt his footie the night before so we were surrounded by a lot of a-holes carrying signs like this:

Like Derek Jeter really gives a sh*t that you wish him well. Stupid. What’s worse is that this pair is clearly a couple of some sort. When you’re in a couple, it’s someone’s job to make the appropriate decisions for that couple. It could be the man or the woman. SOMEONE needs to make the right choices. When you show up to a stadium with an asinine sign like this, it means that both of you are a-holes. Neither of you have any decision-making skills. One of you needed to say, “seriously, babe? This is asstastic. Can we not do this? We’re gonna look stupid.” Clearly these two would not survive in the great outdoors. They look like giant pansies.

Not much action happened until the 7^th, but prior to that, the only man who had been consistently performing, Raul Ibanez, walked with Mark Teixeira on base in the bottom of the 1^st. The Yankees would go on to do nothing to capitalize on this scenario, but the jumbotron flashed this gem on the screen:

We found him dressed in a pimp outfit to be particularly amusing. Amusing enough to take a picture of it. In our defense, there was nothing else to amuse us by this point. The score was 0-0.

While the Yankees trudged slowly through the game like a man in a desert without water, we continued to check the Giants/49er’s score. Another side note: Who schedules a MLB Championship game at 4:00? This directly interfered with football Sunday as we had to leave with enough time to get the train to Yankees Stadium, causing us to miss both the Jets AND Giants games. PLUS, the Giants game turned out to be epic whereas the Yankees game turned out to be a dud!!!! We supported both our Yankees and GMEN:

The men in front of us heard us talking about the football game and assumed that Serena was the keeper of football scores, so at his request, she had to keep checking her NFL app for score updates to appease them. We discussed being a part of a pick em’ league. Which teams did you pick, etc., etc., and why? The men agreed with Serena that her league being all about “The Spread” was horse shit. What is “The Spread” anyway? Who came up with that? It sounds like an STD. The little kid hanging out with them really enjoyed Serena’s R2D2 text tone and other assorted Star Wars sounds that can be found on her phone. Serena tried to eat his ice cream, but the kid wasn’t having it. Selfish little crab. He had an entire pint and he couldn’t spare ONE lousy spoonful? That seems a bit ridiculous, if you ask us. Ridiculous and a touch selfish.

In the 7^th, the Tigers scratched a run across, spelling inevitable doom. 1 run? With the way this offense had been hitting? Might as well have been 4,000 to 0. Around this time, Serena came up with a pet name for Alex Rodriguez, Curtis Granderson, and Nick Swisher. Since they were as useful as tits on a bull, Serena started calling them the “0 (pronounced “O”) for Triplets.” Lisa found this funny enough to actually make a note about it in “The Notebook.”

A few rows in front of us sat a man that we’d never, ever consider dating. Want to know why? No? You don’t. Tough. We’re going to tell you. It’s our blog. So there. This man was an embarrassment to testosterone. He saved bits of his pretzel like a squirrel. What kind of man can’t finish a f*cking pretzel? It’s not even that big. And if you don’t eat it while it’s warm, it get hard and icky. Hard…hahaha…that’s what she said. Sorry. Easily distracted. And we’ve been drinking. Back to the vagina who calls himself a man. Not only did he save bits of his pretzel, but he stored his bits in his pocket like a total creeper!!! Tell us that this doesn’t look like a flasher with his penis sticking out of his fly:

C’mon! That’s definitely a little penis poking through! So disturbing.

In the bottom of the 9^th with 2 outs and the Yankees down by 3, Alex Rodriguez hit a single and stole second. For absolutely no reason except for maybe his health. The Yankees lost 3-0. Like a pack of a-holes. After the game, we went to the bar and continued to drink. This is Lisa playing baseball with a little boy:

Super hero of the week: Alex Rodriguez for getting digits while at work. Good for him! Multi-tasking at its best!!!

A-hole of the week: The Yankees, not for losing, but for getting swept. Really, guys???