Oracle Park (the park formerly known as AT&T Park)

 June 5, 2021

We had a 7am flight out of New York to San Francisco. The trip was mostly supposed to be a wine-centric vacation with the purpose of us getting SOMEWHERE that wasn't our homes after a long lockdown. Not sure what prompted us to even look up the Giants' schedule (because as you know, we've already hit this park), but we did and discovered that they'd be home the weekend we were arriving in San Francisco. Unfortunately, due to COVID protocols, the Giants were not yet selling tickets to the general public. Only season ticket holders had access to buy. However, the wonders of social media came to our rescue. We posted one little story on Instagram seeking advice regarding tickets and one of our kick ass followers replied with the hook up! She bought tickets via her account on our behalf and we were in! 

Anywho, back to our arrival in San Francisco. We didn't have much time available to us before our 5pm game, but we managed to squeeze a lot in: Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf, Pier 39, and mini doughnuts. We arrived and snapped our exterior photo of the ballpark, including a retake of us outside the Willie Mays Gate. 

Now:

Then:

Before we went inside, we stopped at the team store so that Lisa could get herself a hat and also visited McCovey Cove because we never documented it the first time around. We got to see someone snag a home run ball during batting practice. 

California was a little behind New York in their COVID protocols, so the attendance capacity was less than what we would've experienced at Citi Field or Yankee Stadium. There were still vaccinated and unvaccinated seating sections. We still had to wear masks at least until we got to our seats and most importantly, many of the concession stands were still closed. This is not a complaint by any means. It was just a different experience from what we've had. As we walked around our section trying to decide what we wanted to eat, we found these fun Lego set ups:

We ended up with pretty basic food, but no complaints here. We ate all of it and enjoyed every bite. We think it cost us roughly $40 for both of our dinners and beers, but truthfully, we can't remember and we apparently spent so much money on random sh*t that day that we can't decipher our bank statements as to what's what. The ballpark was entirely cashless also by the way, which was unexpected, but obviously we managed because we didn't go hungry. 

Oh! This picture of us in these custom sweatshirts (made by @evieandzoedesigns) just reminded us of a funny interaction with one of the park staff people. He spotted our shirts and loved them so much that he took several photos of us with his phone. Either he thought we were celebrities (we sort of are...and if we're not, we aren't sure what the f*ck is taking so long on that front)or he was a creep. Somewhere in the state of California, is an Oracle Park security guard with at least 10 photos of us in the same pose and facial expression. He didn't even bother to take a selfie with us. 

Back to the game. The Giants, for the most part, dominated, but it did get hairy towards the end.  At one point Brandon Crawford bulldozed Evan Longoria in attempt to get the ball. We've never seen anything like it. Not even at one of Lisa's nephew's little league games. They did win the end even though they made it interesting. And so did we. We went back to our hotel and passed the f*ck out face down in our beds before going on the bike tour from hell the following morning. We'd tell you about it, but that's for a completely different type of blog. 

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???

Wild Bullsh*t

The 2012 postseason is almost upon us. Whoo hoo. In preparation for its arrival, we asked what you would like us to cover on our blog. 2 of you want us to blog during a game at a bar while drinking. While we totally understand why you chose this (it's going to be hilarious), we can't help but wonder at your intelligence level. Only 1 person each voted for covering an out-of-market World Series parade or an out-of-market playoff game if the Yankees don't advance. Aren't these options more interesting than us drunk blogging? Thankfully no one voted for us to cover an entire story on Joe Buck's hair. We would've done it because you asked, but we really would've been pissed off about it.

We're trying hard to be excited about the playoffs. The fact that the entire American League situation is still up in the air is pretty thrilling. However, we're not going to lie to you. We do not want to be sitting here with you today and we don't want to talk about the playoffs or baseball. We just want to finish watching the Packers/Saints game, drink our newly purchased pumpkin ale, nap, and then watch the Giants game. Lisa arrived at Serena's house during the second quarter of the Jets/49ers game (what an abortion of a football game). We napped during halftime. Watched the second half. Bought beer. Ate. Watched the first half of the Packers/Saints game. Thought that maybe we should start blogging just to get it over with. Bitched about a variety of things. Finally started blogging.

Here's why we're feeling just a touch flat about the playoffs. That stupid added Wild Card team. It's literally the dumbest idea we've ever heard of. We've come up with more brilliant plans following Jameson shots than this asinine piece of work that the MLB has come up with. That's really saying something because we never remember what happens following Jameson shots. It's bad enough that oftentimes Wild Card teams defeat teams that legitimately have the best record in the league, but you know what? Sh*t happens. Now you're telling us that there is potential for an even sh*ttier team to defeat the team with the best record. Here's how it should work: when you're in little league baseball and you suck, you shouldn't get a trophy. The kids who play the best and win should get a trophy. That's what makes winning so valuable. You get rewarded for your hard work! What's the point in playing if you're going to get a trophy regardless? Why bother putting in effort?

A lot of old-schoolers don't like the Wild Card to begin with. Lisa doesn't love it, Serena's okay with it. It kind of makes things exciting as the season draws near as we wait and see who will qualify. A second Wild Card team from each league is just a joke. You're talking about a team who will have a vastly worse record than the Division leader, yet we're going to reward them for an entire season of mediocrity. Let's look at the NL East for an example. Both the Nationals and Braves have both clinched playoff berths. The next two teams vying for a Wild Card spot are the Cardinals and Dodgers. Both the Nationals and Braves are teams with over 90 wins apiece. The Cardinals and Dodgers currently stand at 85 and 83 wins respectively. That's a gap of 10 victories and yet these two teams get to contend with the same Wild Card spot as the Nationals and Braves? That's not fair. Clearly the Nationals and Braves have been more successful all season. They should be rewarded, not penalized. If the season ended today with the Nationals clinching the NL East with the Braves and Cardinals competing for the Wild Card spot in a one-game playoff, the weaker team could beat the better one just because they performed better in ONE game. It's total bullsh*t.

Baseball notes: RA Dickey, Jered Weaver, and David Price got their 20 wins this week. Hooray for them. Apparently 20-game win seasons are being handed out like wh*res hand out favors.

Today, Mike Trout became the first major league rookie to hit 30 home runs and steal 40 bases...ever. As in, no other rookie has ever done that before. Which basically makes Mike Trout a real American hero.

And that's it right away, as Serena's old boss, Tommy, would say. Peace out, motha fuckaaaaaahs!

Arbitration

Our discussion of men’s grooming habits last week naturally led to a poll covering the topic. We asked which of our subjects had the best look. 11 of you sounded off. The results? Baffling. Mind blowing. Makes us feel like we’ve smoked crack recently. Of the 11 votes, 5 of you legitimately chose Brian Wilson’s Porn-Bush. We want the 5 of you to close your eyes and play a little imagination game with us. Are your eyes closed? Now imagine you’re alone in a quiet room with your significant other. Your significant other has tied you to a chair. You literally cannot move any part of your body. Your significant other approaches you for a sexy, smoochie. But wait…he/she has a beard the size of an afro sported by many of the actors in Jackie Brown. The beard is getting closer to you. The beard actually touches your lips before their lips can (Lisa just moaned and said, “eww, this is making me itch”). The beard grazing your face feels like a brillo pad and still, their lips haven’t touched yours yet. In fact, their lips can’t reach your lips through the beard because the beard has now taken control of everything. The beard wants to take over the world now. Wants to run for President of the United States. Wants to eat everyone’s firstborn child. Wants to bring about the apocalypse. You can’t escape. Remember, you’re tied to a chair. You’re doomed to face a lifetime of beard suffocation. This is worse than the Salem Witch Trials. You wish you were dead.

Now open your eyes. Still feel warm and fuzzy about your choice? Hmmm? We didn’t think so. The runner up with 4 votes was Justin Verlander’s Gentlemanly Scruff. In Verlander, we trust. Cole Hamels’ Compromise and CJ Wilson’s Effortless Sex each earned 1 vote. Really? The name of Wilson’s look was called “Effortless Sex.” No one bought into that? No. Why would you do something that makes sense? You a-holes bought into a porn bush with food stuck in it. No one voted for Will Rhymes’ Lack of Commitment, Brian McCann’s Proper Beard, Jayson Werth’s Sherwood Forest, or Barry Zito’s Magnum PI Stache.

Tim Lincecum and the Giants are finally closer to a contract agreement that would enable the parties to avoid a salary arbitration hearing. “Industry sources” (who are these industry sources they’re always talking about anyway? Are they fans? Stadium garbage pickers? Grounds Crew members? Concession stand employees? Front office staff? Training staff? Other players? WHO? WHO are these people?????) have confirmed that talks between the club and Lincecum have progressed quite nicely. For a 1-year contract, Lincecum requested $21.5 million and the Giants countered with $17 million. Seriously, Lincecum? $17 million for 1 year’s worth of work is a pretty sweet deal. Take it. Don’t complain. And don’t grow a porn-bush. We’re begging you.

Before we go into the rest of this week’s baseball notes, let’s talk arbitration. Admittedly, when you combine our college educations, you get a BFA in Writing, Literature, and Publishing, a Minor in History (Western Civilization), and 2 years at Nassau Community College studying Liberal Arts. Basically that’s a sh*t ton of useless knowledge and creativity (because we’re “artists”). We have zero smarts when it comes to business or anything related to the legal system. After hearing this term, “arbitration” over and over every offseason and stumbling upon it again when reading about Tim Lincecum, Serena had enough. She Googled “What the f*ck does arbitration mean?” If you knew Serena at all, you’d know that that’s legitimately what she Googled. Apparently, to make a bunch of legal jargon short and sweet, arbitration is basically when two disputing parties agree to let someone else decide the fate of the argument. For example, if we were fighting about whether to order our 10 cent wings Hot or Super Hot, we’d call in Chris, the bar back, to “arbitrate” and make the decision for us. We’d agree to do whatever Chris decided. If we’ve got this concept right (and we think we do), this means that if Tim Lincecum and the Giants have to go to a salary arbitration hearing, a person or persons would determine Lincecum’s salary and Lincecum and the Giants would have to comply with whatever the decision is. Super. Now, here’s why we should be on this arbitration panel:

• We’re awesome. We don’t ever stop being awesome.
• We own suits. Therefore, we’ll look extremely professional while arbitrating your salary or whatever it is you want us to arbitrate
• We like 10 cent wings which means we’re fiscally responsible. We’re not going to overpay athletes for simply playing a game. C’mon. Like we should pay you to play Monopoly or something. Please. You’ll get a salary that we feel is acceptable for what you contribute to the world. So, Timmy? If the Giants are offering you $17 million, you should take it because there’s no way in hell we’re giving you that much money to pitch once every 4-5 games in one season. You’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind. You’ll make the equivalent to a secretary. $35,000/year. If you make it to the World Series, we’ll give you $30 worth of Taco Bell. Anything on the Taco Bell menu that your heart desires…totaling $30. Not $31. Not $30.99. Not $30.01. $30 (including tax). We can discuss a raise after conducting a performance evaluation at your next arbitration hearing in 2013 just like every other hard working American in this country.
• Even though we hang out at a bar every Monday night, we still manage to get up for work on time. We even get dressed and comb our hair. This means that we’re responsible adults…we think. Or it might mean that we have a drinking problem. We’re going to stick with “responsible adults.” Just go with it.
• We work out so when sh*t gets out of hand during the arbitration process, we will be able to exert force and authority in order to reign it in and stay on track.
• We’re inherently lazy. Why will this benefit you? Any time spent away from eating, drinking beer, sleeping, or other bedroom-related activities is pretty much a nuisance to us. Therefore, we will not allow this drag on any longer than it has to. You’ll be in and out before you know it.

And that is why you should vote TBB for Arbitration! TBB 2012! Peace out!

Elsewhere in the league. The Oakland A’s have reportedly shown interest in Manny Ramirez. If you recall, Ramirez retired last season rather than face a heavy suspension for testing positive for steroids a second time around. A real class act. Awesome. Like that stadium needs to be made even uglier. Good job, folks. Keep up the good work out there in Oakland. At this rate, your team will never get a new stadium. At best, someone will blow up the Coliseum and never rebuild it. You’ll be homeless. Exactly how many stupid decisions does a team need to make before their decision-making rights are revoked?

Apparently, Ryan Braun was in Midtown last night. Lisa was also in Midtown last night. She could’ve banged a professional baseball player. Then we would’ve blogged about it so that you could’ve shared in the magic of their night. God, how the fates toy with our emotions. ANYWAY, Braun was in town receiving his NL MVP Award. During his acceptance speech, Braun spoke briefly of the situation regarding the positive results of his drug test. Of course, he denied ever doing steroids (But really, are you going to admit to taking steroids while accepting an award congratulating you for your performance?) and spoke a lot of crap about character and being humbled by this experience and all that mumbo jumbo. Listen, we’re not trying to take away from his eloquent speech here, but let’s face it. We don’t really care. What we care about is the fact that he was in Midtown and Lisa did not hit that sh*t when it counted. Steroids or not. Feel free to Google his acceptance speech though. It’s quite intelligent sounding, which says a lot considering that he is a professional athlete and a power hitter to boot. Power hitters are usually dumb as dirt. Just look at Alex Rodriguez. Good-looking and talented, sure. But he shouldn’t talk anymore. He should remain seen and not heard.

Cyndi Lauper is singing our song: “The phone rings in the middle of the night. It’s a major league baseball team begging us to make things right. Oh, MLB, you know we’re still #1. The TBB just want to arbitrate. Oh, the TBB just want to arbitrate.”