“This is the best team we’ve faced all year.”  So said Dusty Baker as his Cubs made a hasty retreat out of the Stadium, in a great article by Murray Chass in the Times today.  You know why he said that?  Because it’s true.  No magic to it.  It’s true.  The Yankees are a great team.   A team that could scare the fat off of Ralphie May.  Dusty was philosophical.  “I have no idea why they’re only a few games over .500.  It makes no sense.”  The guy just said a mouthful.

            I know why.  Because they lose to the D-Rays every chance they get.  I was at a graduation party on Saturday night.  One of my mom’s neighbor’s kids.  She called me at work, and I could hear in her voice that this was one she wanted me at.  So I go.  I’m talking to one of my mom’s next door neighbors (Met fan), who I remember as a chubby kid shooting on a hockey net by himself.  He’s talking to me about the Yankees.  “They’re playing okay, but they haven’t beat anybody good”, the kid says.  I was honest with the kid.  “Lately they haven’t beaten anybody bad, either.  I’ll take beating anybody”….  Now in fairness, they appeared well on their way to nailing down Mikey Rumble’s prediction of ten in a row.  They got six and four with the D-Rays at home.  But tonight they got nipped by the “can’t win division games bug.”  Not one I’m super worried about, I’ll say.  The bats were quiet, but they ran into a weird pitcher on a weird night, throwing like a monster.  Happens to be the same night we throw Jimmy the ****** out there.  You can chalk this one up to Sean Henn.  Trade him tonight.  He is not a major league ballplayer, certainly not a Yankee.  This guy has the weak-kneed DNA that Triple J referred to a few weeks back.  He has Ed Whitson, Marty Bystrom, Jeff Weaver, Kenny Rogers, Denny Neagle, and Hideki Irabu written all over him.  Walking runners in, b*tching out.  He was a mess.  There is certainly no more helpless feeling than standing in the field watching runs be walked around the bases.  As a former member of “The Crew” softball team, I need no introduction to that special kind of pain.  Also, couldn’t help but notice what an utter jacka*s Casey Fossum is.  Seventh inning – The Ferocious Lion at the plate.  Ball one.  Fossum throws his arms in the air, incredulous.  Doesn’t stop the whole inning.  Even after he’s walking into the dugout, he needs to be restrained from the ump, and he’s cursing the ump all the way back into the dugout.  What a first class, grade “A” hump that guy is.  Dude, why don’t you thank your lucky stars that you’re having the game of your life when most people in this town know you as the punch line – punch line – in the sweetheart deal that Colangelo made with John Henry (“The Scarecrow”, as Steinbrenner calls him) for Schilling.  Crybaby.

            Speaking of the seventh – there’s your ballgame, I’m afraid.  I know – we lost the game in the first couple with Mr. Clown Pants on the mound, but the seventh is where we failed to win it.  Two on, no out.  Fossum had just walked The Lion on four pitches.  Posada proceeds to swing at the first pitch, which was quite clearly a ball.  Second pitch, also a ball, and he doesn’t learn his lesson.  Pop out, no advance.  Failure.  Giambi next – ouch.  Bernie – not tonight – inning over.  Of course, I love to see the fight in the Yanks.  Four runs pour across in the eighth.  Why?  Why else?  The Ferocious Lion.  Tony Sherry called with his latest verse in the song in his honor.  Then Mikey Rumble calls.  “I’m on the other line with Tony”, I tell him.  “He’s singing the new verse to the song.”  He explodes into the Herman Mun*ster laugh and screams “he’s sick!” before hanging up.  I was pumped after Posada’s walk.  I told Tony that “it” was going to happen again and hung up.  The D-Rays bring in Baez, the closer, which is the right move.  After watching him take down Giambi, I knew the Yanks were cooked.  He had a fantastic sequence.  Had him 1-2, then buzzed him up and in, Giambi falling backwards.  Right there he was dead.  Perfect set up pitch.  The next one was on the outside corner, Giambi doesn’t have enough extension, inning over.  Beautifully done.  The guy is by no means dominating.  He’s got a .380 career ERA.  But he doesn’t walk a lot of guys, and when he’s on, he’s tough.  Reminds me a little bit of Sturtze.  He was the same in the ninth.  By then Acc had called me from a hotel room in Virginia or somewhere, watching the game on mlb.tv, but promptly hung up when he realized I was a batter ahead of him. 

            I’m about to launch Tino and A-Rod into hot streaks, because I’m going to do it to them.  Anybody else (besides Mike Sherry) notice that A-Rod has had exactly one game in which he has hit a home run (he hit two in one game against the Brew Crew) in almost a month?  He cranjanderated a ball against the Tigers when I was sitting ten rows back of the plate with my brother in law and little cousin on May 26.  As I write this, it is June 21.  What gives?  And Tino.  Everybody needs to shut up.  Why are you cheering for a guy who’s hitting .226?  He hasn’t hit a home run in way over a month. And he has three RBIs in that span.  That is entirely unacceptable in this lineup.  Defensive replacement, fine.  Besides that, bench his a*s.  He hit eleven jacks in a fifteen day span.  Other than that?  One. 

            Chris Woy – excellent work on the comments, dude.  Somehow you managed to get “samba” and “cow” into the same train of thought.  Mint.

            Lt., why are you foregoing the most recent BPS and posting a comment on a two-day old BPS?  Just want to make sure you didn’t miss one.  Didn’t see the Gary Sheff play, I’m embarrassed to say.  The big boy walked me through it, though.

            I’m probably going to regret this, but I’m going with Dusty.  I think this Yankee team is far classier (San Diego) than the D-Rays.  I think the D-Rays got lucky tonight with an unlikely big game on one side, and a likely tank job on the other.  They look like a scared team, and I think they’re going to be treated as such the next few days.  You heard it here, first.

            By top seven, I was squarely on the fence.  Half of me was pissed at Pavano because he b*tched away a four run lead.  I’m kind of excusing him the other day, saying he was a bit of a hard luck loser during Nightmare II because he got no run support and lost two duels with good pitchers.  Tonight I’m watching him and I’m ready to put him in the “just pitch well enough to lose” category.  On the other hand, I’m looking at the sixth inning and I’m thinking – let’s be fair, here.  The first guy up, Burnitz ( a career .256 hitter – why is this guy still in baseball?) hits a ball that goes ten feet.  He gets on by accident.  Then an out.  Then three bleeders that snuck through a hole.  What are you going to do?  They did what they were supposed to do.  They hit ground balls.  After the third bleeder, I told myself that there was no way they were going to hit a fourth weak ground ball that would find a hole.  Guess what.  So how pissed could I be?  Still don’t have an answer.  The accepted postscript on this game is that Pavano has big problems.  Maybe he does.  All I know is that there’s a lot of luck involved in a ball finding a hole.

            The thing that had me most furious was the shot of the three donkey (two donkey, one donkette) Cub fans who were positively losing it on TV when Blanco’s ball bled through and the Cubs took the two run lead.  Do I do that in Yankee Stadium?  Yes.  Would I do that in Wrigley?  Probably not, but maybe.  But either way, I don’t like you pulling that cr*p in the House that Ruth built.  It wasn’t just a celebration.  These three Chicasshol*s  were so hysterical that it really looked as if they were having trouble controlling their bodily functions.  UPN 9 showed a shot of them on the post-game.  I was hoping ESPN would do the same, just so all of their friends could crush them for being made fools of by The Lion.

During the Cubs sixth, I was so annoyed that I left the TV and went downstairs to take a shower (golf – shot a little better today, but still an embarrassment).  I was hoping that something good would happen by the time I got out.  It rarely works out that way, I’ve noticed.  Took me about seven minutes from the point I left the loft to the time I was out of the shower.  As I’m toweling off, the phone rings.  Uh oh.  I knew it was going to be the big boy, and that it was going to be bad news.  If you know Acc, he doesn’t call you when something good happens; he thinks it would jinx it.  He calls when he’s annoyed.  So I’m thinking either A) the Cubs are still up and just tacking on runs, or B) the Cubs got out, then the Yanks went down fast.  I get back up to the loft and see the Cubs batting and Quantrill going from the windup.  Obviously B.  I listen to Acc’s message.  He’s fuming at Womack for swinging at a pitch when Zambrano had thrown six straight balls.  Good thing I missed it.  That would have really set me off.

            So I’m ripped, and I start thinking about the two HRs we barely missed, Gary Sheff actually running his out.  Then I’m thinking about the bleeders, and how this “crazy event” mojo is rearing its ugly head again.  But through it all, I should have remembered the wisdom of the Lt.  Make your own breaks.  And the Yanks decided to do just that.  A-Rod continuing to come up clutch for this club.  He and The Ferocious Lion back to back in the order is a destructive tandem.  Lefty, righty, magic, and crackerjacks.  So we begin the events chipping away.  Gary Sheff, A-Rod, and then – Boom.  The resounding crackle of the Ferocious Lion.  Outstanding.  Phone rings.  I don’t even have to look. I answered the phone with three words.  “The Ferocious Lion”.  “Do you understand that it’s getting ridiculous?” Tony Sherry said.  “At first it was cool, kind of weird, but do you understand that it is now officially getting truly ridiculous?  I have to go.  I am writing a Hideki Matsui song.”  He is an amazing man, Tony Sherry.  Phone rings again.  Ruddy.  “Ruddo!”  I answer.  Immediately I can tell he’s at the game.  “I am loving this” he says.  “There are Cub fans all over the place, and they are all so bummed right now.  We’re killing them.”  I told him about the Chicasshol*es.  “Kill ‘em dude,” I concluded.  “They deserve it.”

            Later in the game.  More A-Rod, more Godzilla.  More unapologetic bouncing.  I have to say, I was scratching my head at UPN 9 giving the player of the game award to A-Rod.  How do you not give that thing to The Lion?  And what kind of a loser watches the UPN 9 post-game?  Don’t get me wrong.  A-Rod had a sick game.  But the Lion, dude…..

            After the game, Tony calls me and sings the new Matsui song.  Genius, as usual.  Ruddo calls me back on his way out of the stadium, with Frank cranking in the background.  “You in the Loft?”  “Yeah” I said, suddenly realizing what a loser I am that I’m once again jumping around my loft on a Friday night watching the Yanks by myself.  Won’t apologize for it, however.  Rud also mentioned that he disagrees with me about the new stadium.  Me and Rud go way back.  I respect his opinion.

            Hopefully Tony’s “stepdad” will appreciate tonight’s game.  That was truly fantastic.  Sue Sherry with a new guy?……   Like I said.  He’s an amazing man… 

            In four years, I never could find somebody who could take down Humpty.  You see, back when we were cool, a bunch of us used to work for the DPW in the Rock – Sanitation, Parks, Highway, etc.  Driving around in orange trucks, that stuff.  For us, it was hilarious fun.  And we got to use heavy machinery, which was cool.  But one thing we instituted that all of the full time guys really got into was the Lumberjack eating contest.  Maple Ave deli was the spot for morning break, and once every summer, we would have the contest.  “The lumberjack” isn’t particularly unique; it’s two eggs, bacon, cheese, sausage, and ham on a kaiser, or disc, as Arnold Goldstein used to disdainfully refer to the round rolls.  You see similar sandwiches at delis all over the place. The rules were you had to finish two whole Lumberjacks and you couldn’t puke.  Whoever finished first won.  Humpty was Brian Rumble’s boy.  He was way over three hundred pounds, red hair, beard.  He loved the Grateful Dead, and was always wearing triple XL tie-dye with his steel toe boots.  Our boss, Charlie Doughty, used to fire him six or seven times a summer.  One time he fired him, sent him home, went to his house and picked him up to make him come back to work, and then fired him again two hours later.  The kid was a screw up, but he could eat.  He made Acc look like one of the Olsen twins.  Most importantly, he could eat two lumberjacks in just under two minutes.  He was a monster.  I tried to back four different guys in four years, and even tried to cheat a number of different ways, but I couldn’t take him down.  My guys either puked, went way too slow, or as with my worst contender – The Buckmaster – ended up not finishing his second one, prompting Humpty to famously ask, “Are you going to eat that?” and then polish it off like it was a glass of ice water on a hot day.

For his last two starts, Randy Johnson has been our Humpty.   Every batter is mismatched, and the whole experience goes by like it was a timed contest.  And the Pirates were every schlub that I sent up there against him.  I admit, I definitely did not realize that the Pirates had a better record than the Yanks at the start of this series.  That’s positively remarkable.  But I kept scratching my head when every starting pitcher they sent up there had a winning record.  How is that possible?  Are these not the Pirates?  After I watched the games, I can say that yes, they are.

  What was tonight’s game – a highly manageable 2 hours and 19 minutes?  Unheard of for the American League.  But not for Randall when he’s right, apparently.  But the whole thing was a bit confusing.  Like what the h*ell was he so pissed about?  [Some of you may have noticed the toned down language or character trickery.  Apparently mlblogs has installed “curseword software”.  Case in point – I’m pretty sure Mikey Rumble, in his comment yesterday, wasn’t meaning to say that he and Brian Rumble were beating the four asterisks out of each other when Giambi hit his bomb.  So bear with me……]    He was stomping around, pointing, yelling.  It would be very clever if that were just part of his game, because it’s definitely intimidating, but I’m pretty sure it’s just that he’s a psycho.  Whatever works.  He claims everything starts clicking when the weather starts getting warmer.  I hope he’s right, because he has been unhittable of late, and we were stuck in an irritatingly chilly weather pattern there for a while. 

I know everyone is expecting me to start genuflecting towards Giambi, so I’ll dispense with that.  As per my point yesterday, I just think the team would be best served with a productive Giambi on board.  And I think the best sign is that he’s hitting the ball hard.  Hard RBI double tonight and just missed a bomb.  He’s hitting .326 in his last 15 games.  I hope the guy keeps it up.  Glad to see he got an ovation tonight, as was Becky, I’m guessing.

After crushing another home run tonight, The Ferocious Lion has apparently told Joe Torre that he no longer wants to play outfield, just DH.  That was Torre’s joke, not mine.  I think what he really said to him was “I don’t care if I have to cut off my foot with a samurai sword, if you try to break my consecutive games streak I will kung fu you’re a_ss back to brooklyn.” [you have to be kidding me, Sean.  This thing won’t let me write a_ss?] Torre just didn’t understand him.  So apparently one third of The Lion’s bombs have been hit with a horribly sprained ankle.  That’s weird.  Almost as weird as the fact that the Yankees never lose when John Flaherty starts.

So Ralphie Boy writes me and the big boy an e-mail yesterday.  Something to the effect of – “Today is a sad day.  There will never be another Yankee Stadium.”  I happen to agree with him.  I hate that they won’t surrender a portion of the revenue to play in Shea, or some sort of makeshift ballpark while they build the new stadium.  To me, you lose the whole thing if you’re not playing on the same field as Mantle, Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio, Reggie, etc.  It all goes right out the window.  I don’t care that it’s next door, it’s not the same.  I think they should have gone with the ’98 plan, and refurbish the current shrine.  You lose way too much, moving the field.  If you’re going to blow that part of it out, you may as well move the **** thing to manhattan, as far as I’m concerned.  The good news is, in another forty years, those of you that make it – Mike Sherry and I will be long gone – they will rip down the new stadium and put the next one where the current one is.  So I guess stay tuned for that one.

Becky, thanks for the game info, and more importantly, the french fry/frosty trick.  That’s bold stuff.  Feel free to chime in anytime you want…..

Lt., I agree with you on the hustle.  Although maybe it was me, but I thought Gary Sheff kind of dogged it to first on that non-DP.  First of all, the ball ricocheted off the pitcher.  Jack Wilson, who was moving toward second, had to come back for it, grab it, and start the DP.  No way should he have enough time to get two.  No way.  And Gary Sheff has wheels.  I don’t think he ran as hard as he could have.  John Kruk was dogging Giambi on Baseball Tonight for not running hard to third or something in today’s game, but I didn’t catch the whole thing.

Triple J, I definitely agree.  True, I don’t like to see Torre automatically pinch hit Sierra in these huge spots, but it’s precisely because he doesn’t have enough at bats to be sharp.  To your point.  I would indeed like to see him in the lineup more often to keep him sharp.  Because he’s done some magical things pinch hitting.  Not too many guys you can say that about.

You know what else – I’m still psyched about last night….

            He did it.  I knew he would, eventually.  And with style.  This was a **** fun game.  This was killing a few birds with one majestic powerkrantz.  This had the potential to be a “sink back down” game.  Depending on your state of mind, this could have been maddening.  There was a lot pointing them in that direction.  They kept digging holes for themselves with the old formula – wussing out when they need a big hit, bad luck, and guys with 3 bombs on the year hitting the ball out against them.  Quick sidetrack, along those lines.  Did anyone notice Alex Sanchez getting released by the D-Rays recently?  I couldn’t resist looking at his career numbers.  Six home runs in five years.  Five years!  If you recall, he was last seen hitting two in one weekend series against the Yanks earlier this year.  A full third of the home run production for his life.  This is the cra_p we’ve been dealing with.  But tonight, we kept fighting back. The Yanks didn’t have the same lay down and die look to them tonight.  And dammit if we didn’t get some base hits.

It started out well enough.  I got back from work a bit early, flipped on the game.  The loft was bearable without the fan.  Apparently we dropped from 95 degrees (death-grees, as Mike Sherry was referring to them) yesterday to 58 degrees by the time I got home tonight.  That’s a little ridiculous.  No score.  Posada – pow.  One zip.  Yanks crawling all over the bases.  Pirates getting nothing.  The Mrs. called me down to dinner.  No problem.  Was feeling pretty good about things.  Had some chicken and ham pinwheels with some corn and some sort of feta pasta salad.  All top notch stuff, I don’t mind telling you.  The Mrs. wasn’t happy with the pinwheels.  She has a more critical palate.  So we finish up.  I go back up to the loft.  You have to be kidding me, I thought.  It couldn’t be happening.  Bottom 5, 3-1 bad guys?  So I suffered through a few innings.  Finally we started getting some breaks.  And I say “some” with the full realization that I will not hold it against any Pirate fan who says we stole that game on a bad call, because it’s true.  Fair is fair.  But first, lucky break in the 7^th.  Cano’s ball hits off Redman and sneaks a run home.  Then we load them up.  Nothing.  Text message comes in from Acc – “We never get the big hit”.  Then the Pirates get it right back on the first pitch top eight.  I felt like I’d been stabbed.  They’re going to start pecking at me with tack-on bombs?  We get up bottom eight and things get interesting.  I run downstairs to put on my lucky Yankee hat (I know what you’re thinking – this guy truly is a secret five year old – the way I look at it, I did what I had to do).  Then, some clutch stuff from A-Rod, The Ferocious Lion, and Ruben Sierra.  We’re one down.  Bottom nine I call Acc.  “Dude, Jeter’s going to get on in some weird way and Bernie’s going to hit the walk-off.”  I scared him off the phone.  “You’re sick.  I have to hang this phone up right now”, he hurriedly said, thinking I may have jinxed the whole thing.  Bernie walks.  Phone rings – Tony Sherry.  “Do you like walk-off home runs?”  Nothing tricky about my affirmative.  “Just checking to make sure you liked them” he said before adding “A-Rod” and hanging up.  Gary Sheff hits into another remarkable, circus, how-did-that-happen double play to end the game….but……we get the biggest break of all.  Not even close at first.  Not even close.  Boys, I want to introduce you to Tony Randazzo, the 1^st base ump.  You can call him Santa Claus.  We stay alive.  Clutch base hit by A-Rod.  Let’s not gloss that one over.  That thing kept us alive and saved the game.  First and third.  Posada.  Magic of late.  Double – beautiful – tie game – A-Rod thrown out – don’t care.  No way we were losing this thing.  We were going to be 1-30 when losing after eight (instead of 0-30, which we were before the magic) if it killed me.  Phone rings – Acc.  I’m pleading to take our time and go station to station.  I’ve seen too many extra-inning games end badly because everyone tried to be Walk-Off Willie.  Acc’s attitude – screw that – end it quick.  Somewhere, Mike Sherry was proud of him.   Tino walks, Womack bunts him over, and there he was.  Resolute, even with two strikes against him facing Senor Smoke, Jose Mesa.  Bobby Murcer and Ken Singleton kept making the point that two years ago, you wouldn’t dared have pitched to Giambi in that spot.  You walk him and set up Cano for the DP.  But they chose to face him.  And he did it. I started bouncing around the loft screaming – “he did it”.  With my lucky hat still on, I might add (coincidence?).  I leaned over the rail and started yelling “he did it” to the Mrs.  She feigned excitement, God bless her.  Great, I’m sure she was thinking, I married a five year old.  Tony Sherry told me a couple of minutes later that he was jumping up and down in front of his wife’s Polish in-laws screaming – the same “he did it.”  What else would you say? 

To Mikey Rumble’s comment on the blog – I don’t know why they don’t put you on TV, dude.  They should have a Tony and Mikey channel, as far as I’m concerned.

Ruddy called me the other day – still have to call you back, Rud – saying that he has broken out of his funk a little bit.  Hopefully this takes him all the way out.

To the lovely and talented Becky White:  Yes – dipping the pretzels in the dippin’ dots.  Sometimes it has to be that way.  Mike Sherry still doesn’t understand how they keep them cold for that long.  And I didn’t put in the official count the sneaky snacks that didn’t make it back to section 24 from the concession stands.

I got an e-mail from Ralphie Boy today on the new stadium, and I completely agree with him.  But I’ll get into that tomorrow.  Tonight was about Giambi and the win.

I have made no bones about the fact that I am rooting for the guy.  Not because I am any great Giambi fan.  I just want to win.  And I still think if the guy is right, the Yanks have a better chance to win.  And so I root.  Against the tide.  But tonight, he did it.  It’s just like the May 17th, 2002 ticket stub that I carry in my wallet. 

There’s always hope.

            There are those that say BPS is a lot more interesting when the Yankees lose.  I can see where you might say that.  Anger, sarcasm, perhaps a therapeutic “how do you like it” for some whose proclivity may or may not skew Met.  If any one of these is your slant, feel free to stop reading here.

            They say a picture is worth a thousand words.  Since, admittedly, I’m more of a baseball fan than a writer, a picture is worth a lot more of my words than that.  Because of this, I have uploaded all of the pictures I took at the triumphant Yankee win tonight.  The title of the album is Yankee Shots.  Admittedly lame, but give me some time to goof with this stuff.  Feel free to peruse.

            As for the game, no surprises.  The Boys were in full effect in section 24 on this sweltering June night, and we brought back a win as promised.  We were on line for beers before the game, and I saw some poor dude wearing a Pirates T-shirt with “J. Wilson” on the back.  I knew right there how this was going to go.  Is that what it’s come to for those guys?  Jack Wilson?  Who I had only marginally heard of because I thought it was ridiculous that there were two Wilson’s on the same team, both of whom were in the running on all-star balloting last year or two years ago, if I recall.  And I was pretty sure it was the other guy (Craig?) who was the donkey with the long blond hair coming out the back of his hat.  So I guess that’s what they have to go with.  In fairness, most of the guys in Pirates gear had Stargell jerseys.  Just as sad, you might say.  Those guys su_ck.

            The Yankees had this brewing in them for a while.  I think they will take a few days to get it out of their system against the Pirates and then go back to the real world.  The bad news is that the BoSox and O’s are doing the same, against the Reds and Astros, respectively.  Not much wiggle room to gain ground, I’m afraid.  Hideki Matsui, fresh off of banging up his ankle on Sunday came out as the DH.  He comes up in the second inning.  Tony Sherry starts talking about he’s going to hit one.  I remind him that the Ferocious Lion hasn’t hit one since my mom was president of….he cut me off.  “But tonight he knows his number one fan is here”, said he.  No sooner did he get the sentence out than Matsui-san drills the first pitch into the right-center field seats.  The Ferocious Lion is back.  Take a look in the photos section at Tony celebrating the home run.  Apparently he’s still a little banged out, because Torre says he’ll be DHing for a while.  Don’t want to break that streak, though.  Something tells me you’d be hearing the words “international incident”.

            The Yanks bitched out a few times early.  Looked like they were still shaking off some cobwebs.  Had guys on base, scored some, but mostly got one at a time.  Then they got their mojo back.  Giambi got a big two out double – just missed a bomb – with two strikes, but was still obviously reviled by the crowd, as evidenced by the resounding ovation Tino got when he dragged his .230 avg into the batters box to pinch hit for him later on.  Funny thing.  If Giambi’s ball travels two more feet out of the park, Giambi is probably forgiven.  But a double wasn’t going to do it.  Eventually everybody got into the act, except A-Rod, really.  A couple of HBPs was all he had to show for his night.

            We all had to refresh the gear for the game.  Tony Sherry left the Matsui shirt in the car – he was regretting that one in the second inning – and Mike Sherry switched the road gray jersey for the Babe Ruth shirt at the last minute.  I kept the “Bernabe” in the car and went with the #7 Mantle.  Food was scarce early.  Sweat was not.  Our solution was to pour as many Miller Lights (and/or cokes) down our throats as possible.  But by the seventh inning, we had, in front of us at one time, four bags of peanuts, five helmets of dippin’ dots, four orders of chicken fingers, at least one order of fries, and a bunch of pretzels.  I’m not positive on the numbers, as it all started to blur together after awhile.  Especially when Acc taught Mike Sherry how to literally dip the pretzel in the dippin’ dots (little mini-pellets of ice cream, for those of you unfamiliar).  You heard it here first.

            Had a few issues with some jackasses in the section.  Nobody who we recognized as a regular.  Started singing Amer_ica(proper noun problem) the Beautiful as “Land that I hate”.  The guy clearly wasn’t from this country, fine.  But don’t hate, dude.  The only thing stopping Mikey Rumble and Tony Sherry from pouncing was the fact that any unnecessary movement would have resulted in instant “pits”.  Saved by the thermometer, I guess you could say.  Couldn’t say the same for the Pirates, however.  Hopefully, the streakiest team in the world will continue to do just that.  Up would be nice.