Thursday, June 28, 2007

M's/Red Sox

I had the pleasure of seeing the Mariners beat the Red Sox in the first and last games of the recent three-game sweep. I had given up the M's for dead, and they're going all Lazarus on me. I'm not quite on the bandwagon yet...if we take five of the next six (three against Toronto, three in Kansas City), well, we'll talk. Or maybe at the All-Star break. I seriously believe it'll come apart in August...too many 5- and 6-inning starts for the starters mean that our amazing bullpen will collapse around then. I hope I'm wrong.

Anyway, the best part of these games was shutting up the damn smug Red Sox fans who showed up in droves to Safeco Field. There's something about Red Sox fans that's smug beyond all reality. Case in point--this quote from here reported in Lookout Landing:

”Seriously, the Red Sox are like, the universal language of the people," says Sarah, who came to Monday's game from Spokane with her friends Christina and Jodi - all transplants from Connecticut. "You want to root for them - especially here in Seattle, because the Mariners suck."


As a "universal language of the people," you have as much appeal as Esperanto, Sarah.

So sweeping them was sweet. But hey...at least they're not Yankee fans.

The funniest moment was in the john. We're all there taking a leak between innings when a Red Sox fan, standing at his urinal, says this:

"Man, all of these Mariner fans are trying to look at my penis!"

Let's set aside the homophobia for a second, and consider word choice.

Penis? What, did the guy just leave Biology class? He failed even at the simple task of being a drunken homophobic shithead.

Nobody responded. Whatever. Drunken lame-ass visiting fan.

But then, seconds later, the guy went to wash his hands, and he couldn't figure out how to get the towels out of the dispenser.

He asked:

"Man, how do you get the towels out of this thing?"

There was a pause, and a response:

"I guess only a Mariner fan is smart enough to figure it out."

Laughter in the men's room.

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