There's something about New York sports fans that makes them, oh, I don't know. BATSHIT INSANE when they go to a game. I'm all for team spirit, even if it's for the Yankees (bleh) but the social experiment that the Professor and I saw on the train to NYC last weekend was truly something to behold. Witness.
In order to be a baseball fan, apparently you need to wear the uniform. Why? Perhaps you were hoping that you could get put in as a pinch hitter in the 7th inning? Live the dream, people! So. According to our train ride, you must wear:
- the team's uniform shirt
- the team's cap
- the team's twee little nylon backpack
A word about the twee little backpack. The Prof and I were wondering what the hell one puts in a twee little nylon backpack. This was an IMPORTANT ISSUE.
Me: You could put your chewing tobacco in it.
The Prof: No, silly, that goes in your back pocket. You could put your commemorative program in the backpack.
Me: Or…I'VE GOT IT.
The Prof: The baseball you stepped on a 7 year old to catch?
Me: Nope. Better.
The Prof: Leftover hot dogs? Commemorative beer cup?
Me: FOAM FINGER. We're #1!!!!
The Prof: You're killing me.
Me: We're #1! Foam fingers rule!
Then, of course, you need to get into the mindset. To do so, you need approximately four hundred cheap beers in your system. So where to do that? The train, of course! We were one car away from a group of extrordinarily loud baseball fans who were WOOing and yelling and drinking all the live long day, out of a 24 pack ON THE TRAIN. Did you know you could do that? Apparently you can. Learn something new every day. So now you have the mindset and the uniform.
Oh! Be sure you dress your children in the uniform as well. The drunkenness is optional.
So this would be almost bearable, yes? I mean, we needed EARPLUGS for the incessant WOOing, but that's sports fans for ya. There was one thing though, that we could not abide, nor should anyone else.
The Spit Cup.
Yes, friends, the spit cup. For the chaw, the chew, the nasty ass tobacco and saliva combo that comes with chewing tobacco. Spit cups. ON THE TRAIN. Where people can SEE YOU.
The Prof: *mute from horror*
The Prof: "…"
The Prof: *stares*
Me: That's…Unneccesary, to say the least.
The Prof: *eyes bug out of head*
Me: I agree wholeheartedly.
So there you have it. That's what you need in order to go to the baseball game. Be sure your kids see all of this, by the way. They already have the uniform, and they can dream that night of spit cups and Coors Light, to be just like the grownups. Ah, living the dream.