Wasting Away in <S> Wrigleyville </S> Mesa: Part 2

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Wasting Away in Wrigleyville Mesa: Part 2

. Wednesday, March 4, 2009


The last pitch of the day. Note the slightly tilted angle, and consider the effect of sun-warmed Old Style on photography skills.

Apologies for the lack of posting - I was in Mesa, making all you Chicago-based readers think homicidal thoughts born of jealousy. I considered the following before departing - maybe the anticipation would mean that I'd be disappointed with the experience, maybe the desert would be hot and miserable, maybe the baseball would be dull due to the lack of star power. Wroooooong. Holy shit were all my pessimistic worries kicked in the ass. No one wants to read a long-paragraph travelogue, so if you will, selected anecdotes.

Saturday, February 28th: Weather - Chicago 28/22, Mesa 84/47, White Sox at Cubs (Hohokam Park)

Google's New "Suggestions on Where Things Might or Might Not Be Around Arizona"


This is a Jimmy Buffett vanity plate and a stop child abuse plate. The mind boggles at what the driver has learned from Jimmy's songs. "Fins to the left, fins to the right, and there's a difference between good touch and bad touch."

As a guy driving a rental car around an unfamiliar state, Emily's iPhone and the attached Google Maps feature seemed like a godsend. Then we tried to use it to find something. I don't know what it is about a desert where all the towns are 20 minutes apart that confuses Google, but holy shit did it fuck our shit up. We got wrong directions literally 80 percent of the time - ending up in a creepy residential area instead of the In-N-Out, crusing a mall parking lot like jackasses looking for our baseball tickets, and always ALWAYS being told to take u-turns for no damn reason. It cost us a tailgate, and almost cost us a security deposit on the rental car - because I was this close to crapping my pants in rage.

The College of Idiots/WAIW Crossover


The greatest meeting since Flintstones/Jetsons

After unnecessarily dicking around in Arizona traffic, we finally managed to catch up with the College of Idiots at the game. It was great to meet the authors of one of the best Cubs blogs out there, and be reminded that others also spend unpaid hours obsessing and writing about the Cubs. It went way better than my other Internet meet-ups, because this time there was no meddling-ass Chris Hansen showing up and telling me to have a brownie and a seat. I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I ALWAYS HAVE A SIX PACK OF MIKE'S HARD LEMONADE AND A BOX OF CONDOMS IN MY VAN!

They're Everywhere

Midway through the thirty minute beer line, I heard the familiar sound of a Sox fan bitching about the Cubs. It was your usual inferiority complex shit - "World War I, World War II, the Korean War, Vietnam, 2 Desert Storms, and the Cubs still haven't won a World Series," "No playoff wins the last two years," "At least we have a World Series," and so on and so forth. And mind you, this was to people he didn't know. His target was a five foot nothing Hispanic guy, who gamely sparred with him for awhile ("remember when your team sold the World Series?" etc.), then eventually got tired of it and said "You know, you got a comment for everything, don't you?"

A few moments passed.

Then the Sox fan said "well, we don't have much else."

Of Course, There's Also This


Tonya Harding's extended family

I bitch a lot about Sox fans, but I'll be the first to admit that there are a few Cubs fans I'd like to send out the door of Wrigley with a Brewers jersey and a glass of Shut the Fuck Up. And in all fairness, they were out at Hohokam as well. Take this lovely group,

The women in this group were the driving force - one of them was complaining about how her new fake boobs made her chest sweat more in the sun. Another gave a response along the lines of "yeah, that'll happen. You get used to it."

Later, boob sweat lady talked about her 13-year old son and how he was home alone. Classy.

Sun Buuuuurn



The sun was beating down on us that day, like it was Bobby Brown and we were Whitney Houston's career. Eventually, the lady forewent her Cubs t-shirt for the breezier tank top underneath. Naturally, I had to make a comment - so I said "cover your shame!" She said "okay" and put the t-shirt over my face. Blast!

Oh, So That's Why it Was in the Juniors Section

I noticed this guy in front of me on the lawn. I wonder if he knows it's a girl's shirt he's wearing.

Not convinced? Look at this second picture - admire how the name of Our Fair City dances lustily over his man breasts.

Chad?

Wonder why Chad Gaudin didn't pitch against the White Sox? It's because he was chilling in right center with an $8 margarita.


Yessssss

You know what's awesome, even when it doesn't count? Kicking the White Sox in the dick. At Spring Training, the game itself could almost be called incidental comapred to the ubridled joy of being in the sun, drinking a beer, and hearing the crack of the bat again. But every victory, no matter how small, is sweet when it's against the White Sox.

Totally worth the sun stroke

Just Like Home


Doesn't it put one in mind of the spring beer cup crop at Wrigley? Magical.

1 comments:

jenzie1231 said...

It almost feels like I was there...thank you! Unfortunately, this year, my school decided to make my spring break in April instead of March...therefore not allowing me to go to spring training :(