Excited about the Rays?

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there are half a dozen copters in the air over my house.


this is kind of a big deal down here. need to get on the road before they let out.



*so why am I on the computer?

Yeah traffic was a bitch getting back to Tampa after the game. It didn't help the game got out around rush hour.
 
So, I got a call from a friend around 3:30 yesterday.

"I got a spare ticket for the game tonight. Wanna go?"

Let's see, no plans for the weekend. Just looking towards a boring night of maybe laundry and some bad TV on the sci-fi channel.

der.

I keep forgetting just how awesome playoff sports are. I've been to countless stanley cup games with the avs, 2 or 3 playoff games with the broncos. However, I never have been to a baseball playoff game.

This so didn't dissapoint.

Our seats were behind home plate, and gave us a great view of the field. I'm not a huge fan of the trop, but it's built in such a way that no matter where you sit, you don't feel miles away from the action. That being said, Coors Field is still the best stadium in the majors.

The game did not start off well, with Chicago going up 2 to nothing in a first inning that took almost 35 minutes. Half an hour. 1 inning. God.

During that time, I had my first beer in over a month. Good god. I'm not a beer man, but never, EVER did a beer taste so good. It better have too. 8 dollars for a 20oz beer. My asshole still hurts from the rape.

Second inning, 3rd inning, game kept going. I do want to personally meet the person who decided that cowbells were a good thing for baseball games, and punch him right in the mouth.

AND WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THOSE GOD DAMNED MOHAWKS. And the stupid non-committal bastards who won't cough up for the cause and sport dyed fauxhawks instead. I want to line them up next to Mr. Cowbell.

So, we're stuck at 2-1, sox. (Fuck the sox, by the way. This should have been the Twins here). And then comes the 5th.

And some short little non-english speaking dude named Aki. His name is longer, of course, but tonight, it was just Aki. 2 Syllables. Easily chanted by all of the sober and the beer sodden. A chant heard many times that night, but never with more ferver than after the 5th.

2-1. Man on base. Things looking grim. Smack. Home run. Only one of the night. The crowd, the revelry.

God, I love playoff sports. Me, a spoken non-fan of baseball. I loved this game that night. Everything about it. It's enough to make a man a convert.

From that point on, the Trop was a freaking giant white pimple of partying patronage, just waiting for the right extra squeeze to pop it's mass out onto the streets in a frenzy of sodden celebration. The remaining innings were awash with no one sitting, strikes being thrown, loud cheers at every pitch, every swing.

And too much damn cowbell. Sorry, Mr. Walken, but you CAN have too much cowbell.

The bottom of the 8th, and the top of the 9th, were amazing. Scores by the Rays with bloop doubles, a triple, and a few well played base hits to get men into scoring position. You would almost think the Ray knew how to play this game or something. Once the big double play in the top of the 9th happened, that night in the Trop became the third loudest playoff game on record. You could tell. Voices around, cracking now from shouting constantly for the past 4 innings, gained new momentum with the rising crescendo of anticipation of the final out.

Swing, pop up, over.

Let the love fest begin.
 
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playoff baseball has a lot of electricity in person...I've been to a metric fuck ton of braves playoff games...I miss it :(
 
So, I got a call from a friend around 3:30 yesterday.

"I got a spare ticket for the game tonight. Wanna go?"

Let's see, no plans for the weekend. Just looking towards a boring night of maybe laundry and some bad TV on the sci-fi channel.

der.

I keep forgetting just how awesome playoff sports are. I've been to countless stanley cup games with the avs, 2 or 3 playoff games with the broncos. However, I never have been to a baseball playoff game.

This so didn't dissapoint.

Our seats were behind home plate, and gave us a great view of the field. I'm not a huge fan of the trop, but it's built in such a way that no matter where you sit, you don't feel miles away from the action. That being said, Coors Field is still the best stadium in the majors.

The game did not start off well, with Chicago going up 2 to nothing in a first inning that took almost 35 minutes. Half an hour. 1 inning. God.

During that time, I had my first beer in over a month. Good god. I'm not a beer man, but never, EVER did a beer taste so good. It better have too. 8 dollars for a 20oz beer. My asshole still hurts from the rape.

Second inning, 3rd inning, game kept going. I do want to personally meet the person who decided that cowbells were a good thing for baseball games, and punch him right in the mouth.

AND WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH THOSE GOD DAMNED MOHAWKS. And the stupid non-committal bastards who won't cough up for the cause and sport dyed fauxhawks instead. I want to line them up next to Mr. Cowbell.

So, we're stuck at 2-1, sox. (Fuck the sox, by the way. This should have been the Twins here). And then comes the 5th.

And some short little non-english speaking dude named Aki. His name is longer, of course, but tonight, it was just Aki. 2 Syllables. Easily chanted by all of the sober and the beer sodden. A chant heard many times that night, but never with more ferver than after the 5th.

2-1. Man on base. Things looking grim. Smack. Home run. Only one of the night. The crowd, the revelry.

God, I love playoff sports. Me, a spoken non-fan of baseball. I loved this game that night. Everything about it. It's enough to make a man a convert.

From that point on, the Trop was a freaking giant white pimple of partying patronage, just waiting for the right extra squeeze to pop it's mass out onto the streets in a frenzy of sodden celebration. The remaining innings were awash with no one sitting, strikes being thrown, loud cheers at every pitch, every swing.

And too much damn cowbell. Sorry, Mr. Walken, but you CAN have too much cowbell.

The bottom of the 8th, and the top of the 9th, were amazing. Scores by the Rays with bloop doubles, a triple, and a few well played base hits to get men into scoring position. You would almost think the Ray knew how to play this game or something. Once the big double play in the top of the 9th happened, that night in the Trop became the third loudest playoff game on record. You could tell. Voices around, cracking now from shouting constantly for the past 4 innings, gained new momentum with the rising crescendo of anticipation of the final out.

Swing, pop up, over.

Let the love fest begin.

fa sho.



the game and the First Friday party downtown.. . perfect storm.






and it's a RaysHawk, you fuk. :lol:









call me next time. 10 blocks from the Trop. :D