Cocoon at the ballpark

I had thursday off from work so I decided to celebrate Cinco de Mayo at the old ballyard, a TeeBee tradition, so I rose at the crack of noon, picked out which TShirt to wear and hit the road. Jumped on the R train to Roosevelt and then transferred to the infamous John Rocker Express (7 train to Shea) and was at the ballpark in less than 25 minutes. Epic. Perfect day or so I thought.

I grabbed my ticket, checked out my seat, right behind home plate for 15 bucks, can't beat the cheap ass Mets tickets (especially compared to overpriced Yankees Stadium where you are somehow paying for the next great Taiwanese import George is gonna bring in to not help the team but at least get them a new foriegn TV contract). But I digress, it all seemed to lead into a perfect day. Then the Blue hairs rolled in.

First a cranky couple, wearing those old school glasses, you know , the ones you wore in shop class when you were learning to use the spot welder. They rolled in complaining about the wind and the train, blah blah, but they were far enough away from me that the didn't bother me too much. Apparantly, hot dogs and beers have a fountain of youth effect as I was soon amidst a full busload of retirees and soon to be worm-munch as far as the eye could see. I have expected to see Don Ameche spinning on his head in the aisles and Steve Guttenberg working his hijinks and antics selling foot longs and metamucil.

I was kind of freaking out, ready to go find a new seat, when this old guy sat next to me, just me and him. Didn't catch his name, just started talking hardball with the guy, he knew as much as me about every single player, what pitches they threw, what they should be doing, everything. He definitely had been swimming in that pool with all the weird cocoon/pods in them.

Morty(let's call him Morty) told me about the old Brooklyn Dodgers and a guy named Billy Cox, the best damned third baseman in the history of the game, he told me about Koufax, about how they use to just stand outside the batters box to Intentionally walk guys ("What they do now is Little League shit"), and how some guy named Peter Reiser(Reezer) was the best friggin ballplayer in the Majors and was going to duplicate Teddy Ballgames .406 in 1942 until he cracked his skull on the concrete outfield wall.

REEEEEZER!

Overall, it was a sweet ass day, Piazza went 4 for 5 with a big 3 run jimmy jack in the 8th, got another 3run shot from my fantasy shortstop Jimmy Rollins in the 9th (fantasy meaning fantasy team, not "i wanna watch Jimmy give it to my wife while i watch" fantasy) and got home in time to play some MVP/Splinter Cell 2. Solid day, solid day.