I have a love/hate relationship with baseball. On one hand, I enjoy the idea of going to MLB games, relaxing in the sun, having a few beers, and the like. Sadly, the reality is usually different when attending a game in the majors. Last summer Hotwife and I went to Boston and Maritime Canada. We thought “hell, we’re in Boston, we’d better go to a Red Sox game.” I mean, isn’t that what you’re SUPPOSED to do? See the Green Monster? Smell the history? Smell your credit card melt after shelling out $120 for a couple average seats? Here’s what we discovered about Fenway:
1) Instead of having a few beers, I had this beer:
Eight bucks for something barely larger than my thumb? No thanks. And the beer choices were so immense: Bud Light or Miller Light. As any self-respecting Bostonian would say, “go fack yaself.”
2) I didn’t get to relax and unwind in the sun. We had tickets on a rainy night, and worse, I couldn’t relax because my knees were having sex with the seats in front of me (Fenway is over 100 years old, and obviously the average human was smaller then).
3) MLB sucks. Period. I think I’m done going to MLB games. Overpaid, overpriced. Bring on the Osprey! The stadium is comfy. The odds of scoring something better than Bud Light for less than half a lap dance are great (forgive me . . . I consider the cost of most anything in terms of lap dances . . . a holdover from my days at the Fox Club). And since the Osprey don’t start until June, the odds of enjoying some nice weather while watching a game with mountain views are pretty damn good. I like that minor league players have something to play for . . . they’re trying to advance. Watching pro baseball is like taking a class from a tenured professor, as both seem to play on cruise control.
To end, enjoy this brief video of a kid getting beaned in the nuts. Ah, the purity of baseball . . .