Yankees Opening Day 2013

April 1, 2013
Strangely enough, this year’s opening day experience felt like one giant “That’s What She Said” joke as opposed to an actual baseball game. I mean, I barely recognized the lineup that the Yankees fielded that day, one of the players sounded more like a brand of tomato sauce (Ben Francisco – FranCISCO, that’s fun to say!) and I had the privilege of staring at an a-hole play firstbase for most of the game. Plus, there were actual “that’s what she said” jokes being made throughout the entire day. The rumors are true. The joke does not get old. I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

The beginning of our story begins in Staten Island. Our ride needed to make a pit stop in Staten Island before heading to the game, so he dropped Jess and I off at a sh*t-hole diner in a really sexy part of Staten Island (said no one ever) for the better part of 2 hours while he gallivanted about conducting his business. Initially, the men working the diner seemed excited to have two young females with big boobs and all of their teeth walk in to their establishment. We even got free coffee out of the deal. However, after a solid 45 minutes of our personalities, our boobs weren’t nearly big enough to get away with our behavior. I’m not sure anyone’s boobs are big enough to be quite honest. When we were done eating, there was simply not enough to do at the diner to keep us occupied, so we settled for texting our ride incessantly like real f*cking a-holes:

“You said 40 minutes. It’s been more than 40 minutes.”
“A man with a hearing aid told us to be quiet.”
“Where is the closest tourist shop? Jess would like to purchase an ‘I love Staten Island’ t-shirt. Perhaps a snow globe of the Staten Island ferry.”
“Does Staten Island have WiFi?”
“There are a lot of construction workers in here. Is that common for Staten Island?”
“They want to know when our Uncle is coming to pick us up.”
(he actually laughed aloud at the last two)

When we were finally collected at 11:30, the guys at the diner practically threw a parade in our honor. I’ll admit that I’ve been inside quite a few female strip clubs and I assure you that I’ve never seen a happier group of men than these three guys when we exited the premises.

We apparently exerted a lot of energy acting like complete d*ckheads at the diner because Jess took a brief power nap on the way to the Stadium whereas I seemed to have temporarily blacked out because I have almost zero recollection of the drive. It was either incredibly uneventful or I’d been roofied back at the diner. On our approach to the Stadium from the Major Deegan, I managed to snap a few photos of the utter beauty that is the Bronx for you. I figured you’d enjoy it.

Okay, this photo isn’t so bad. It actually creates the illusion that Yankees Stadium is located in a lovely, peaceful location. It’s not.

Walking from the parking lot to the stadium, I had the fortune of needing to follow this fool:

Don’t you think it’s a little early to be jumping on this a$$ clown’s band wagon? Actually, I’m gonna go ahead and say that you shouldn’t EVER jump on this a$$ clown’s band wagon. EVER.

We settled into our awesome seats to wait for the pre-game ceremonies, which was a fairly difficult task for us since we were hungry…again. But we managed...with a touch of goofiness.

We (me) showed my Big Texan some love:

I can’t stress enough the awesome view we had of the CC Sabathia/Jon Lester matchup. It was amazing. Too bad the action sucked, as Brother would say, a bag of dicks. More on that later.

We held a moment of silence for Bob Turley, old time Yankee pitcher who’d died on Saturday.

The moment of silence for Turley, however, wasn’t nearly as heavy or sad as the league-wide moment held for the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary School tragedy. I can’t speak for what other teams did, but the Yankees’ scoreboard showed a scrolling list of the names of the victims.

 

Former Rock of Ages star, Constantine Moroulis sang the National Anthem. Now, don’t get me wrong. I love Constantine. He’s an adorable, scruffy, dark-haired (yes, yes, yes) rocker boy (honestly, is there a man out there that can out-sex a rocker boy? No. I think not) that used to perform epic 80’s rock tunes on Broadway. I am pretty sure that I just described the ideal male. All this man needs is a cigar and a bottle of Johnny or Jameson. Having said that, I’m pretty confident that he invented his own lyrics to the National Anthem. I don’t know if I should be proud of his artistry or offended that an American citizen potentially doesn’t know the correct words to his nation’s Holy Grail of songs. 

One of Mamadukes’ favorite Yankees, Sweet Lou (Piniella) threw out the ceremonial first pitch. I actually got a snippet of video for you. I’m so proud of myself because it had been so long since I used the video feature on my camera that I actually forgot what I was doing and just pressed every button on the camera in hopes that I caught something…anything really. I was and am not picky.

Here’s the bad news about our seats. I had to look at this a-hole for most of the game:

Annnnnnd with Sabathia’s first pitch, we were off!

Literally. Jess and I were starving. We needed sustenance. We couldn’t possibly concentrate on baseball on a semi-empty stomach. Imagine. Listening to your Food Baby whine and jibber jab while trying to focus on Sabathia’s first performance of the season. Thankfully, a Premio sausage stand was two feet away from our seats. It was like Baby Jesus wanted us to be happy. And by Baby Jesus, I mean Joe Mauer, not the actual baby Jesus. The line at the stand was super short as well! BONUS! We might have to stare at an a-hole playing first all day, but we’d at least be feeding while we suffered. Fatty baseball food and booze can alleviate just about any pain.

Turns out, Baby Jesus was mocking us. This was the longest short line in the history of mankind. I’ve taken quicker showers than this line moved (as a reference point, I take such long showers that Brother has asked if I’ve managed to solve world hunger while in there). We each ordered a foot long hot dog, Italian sausage sandwich (hot for me, sweet for Jess) and a beer for $26.25/each. The amusing part of that order is when I ordered what I wanted, the woman asked, “Do you want to pay for this together?” Jess made a face and replied, “That’s HER order! I want the same thing though.” By the time we got back to our seats, it was already the top of the 2^nd inning. How long does it take you to fetch two already made sausages and hot dogs? This is what our food looks like together in all its glory:

And since you’re a bunch of perverts, here are the phallic photos of us eating our food:

We decided to take the sausage photo ourselves because of the creepy dude (who you can see in the background of the sausage photo) who enjoyed taking the hot dog photo WAY too much.
Creeper: “I’ll take another one if you want.” Winky face.
Jess: “Yeah, I’m sure you will.”

As for the Yankees, their Cracker Jack defense and Sabathia’s inconsistency gave up 4 runs. Fantastic. The offense, on the other hand, only accomplished picking their nose and flicking it at the Red Sox on the field.

Speaking of the Red Sox, Dustin Pedroia, his gross facial hair makes him look like “a little fur monger” (according to my notes on the game).

I feel it necessary to comment on our neighbor sitting in front of us because I’m a bitch. He was an international tourist enjoying his first baseball game. For starters, everyone could see his passport hanging out of his back pocket. He was basically begging to be robbed. This is the Bronx, not Uptown Manhattan. Secondly, he chose to drink Budweiser…the King of Beers. Coming from Europe, you’d think his taste in beer was better.  Lastly, he was a big fan of “Love Fool” by The Cardigans. Nevermind the strange situation that would prompt Yankees Stadium to play that song in the first place. This dude straight up jammed out to the song. There was an air guitar involved. Who does air guitar to The Cardigans?

Things continued to go downhill on the field for the Yankees. The jack wagon filling in for Mark Teixeira at first is apparently unable to field a bunt, which by definition makes him an a-hole. This is the man that’s supposed to be replacing Alex Rodriguez at third. AROD is a lot of things: pretty, fragile, dumb as a doorknob. At the VERY LEAST, the man can field his position properly. The Yankees really should’ve considered starting me in Tex’s place. I’m a borderline expert on bunting. In our seats, we had other issues:

It was around this time also that I was informed that my “breasts pay property taxes.” In case the joke is above your heads, it basically means that my boobs are so big, they’re a piece of property that warrants taxes to be paid on them.

In the top of the 7^th, Old Man Ed fetched us each a Lobel’s steak sandwich (FYI: $16) and a Stella (a lot of money for a beer…I don’t know. I didn’t pay). The Red Sox were winning by 5-2 at this point. Good times.

Jess’ neighbor was an enormous fan of 80’s music. Jess had to endure him singing along to every single 80’s song that Yankees Stadium’s PA system played. Not anything current though. Snoop was definitely not on his list of favorite songs. By the end of the game, Jess had had enough. “If he wasn’t so enthusiastic about the YMCA, I might’ve been able to endure Queen.”

With the Red Sox winning 8-2 in the 9^th, it was time for us to leave. In the car, we ate leftover munchkins and argued about who needed to charge their phone more.

Since I was the passenger, I got the task of plugging everyone’s charger into one outlet or another. The USB port for Jess’ iPhone proved most challenging:
“I can’t find the hole.”
“You need to get your head in there.”
“I still can’t find it!”
“Really get your head down there!”
“I can’t see! It’s too dark!”
“Did you get it in?”
“Oh, I found it!”
Yup. You guessed it. “That’s what she said.” It doesn’t get old.