My seats used to be in left field, where every Sunday home game we would celebrate America’s past time by hurling unfair and unprovoked insults at whomever was unfortunate enough to be slotted in the position for the opposing team.  Usually Pat Burrell got a solid dosage, too, with a few middle-aged housewives chiming in with thier undying support of his ass.

One year, the Blue Jays came to town, and their leftfielder was a stocky journeyman named Matt Stairs.  Those of us who even knew who he was were aware of exactly zero of his accomplishments.  There were no Matt Stairs headlines for us to transform into antagonistic shouts.

“Hey Matt Stairs!” the guy behind us screamed.  ”… I will Stair you down!” (more…)

Citizens Bank Park, Section 147.

Its not quite our season ticket seats, but it’s a lot closer to any playoff game than I’ve ever been.  The screams don’t come as loudly as they do in left field; more cops, more kids, but it’s up in the air which one is responsible for people controlling themselves.

I ask a guy walking out of the bathroom in Ashburn Alley if the blue baseball hat sticking out of his pocket is a Dodgers hat.

"You see, son, baseball has three innings, the 3rd, 4th, and 5th. Anything before or after those innings probably isn't important enough to stay for. Now, let's get you some more souvenirs glorifying a known steroid-user."

“No,” he says, not even looking me in the eye.

Hmm.  I guess that means it’s not the one I saw him wearing in the parking lot four hours ago.  (Speaking of Dodgers fans, the LA Times is showing that trademark confidence and passion for their team).

Nevertheless, it was bottom 9, and once again, we were down to our last out.  ”My god,” I thought.  ”It would really suck to lose one at home, especially after turning the Los Angeles Dodger organization into ground up hamburger meat yesterday.”

“I agree,” Jimmy Rollins replied, in the form of the greatest baseball moment I’ve ever witnessed.

Oh my god it’s tied I thought as Eric Bruntlett crossed the plate.

Two seconds went by as Chooch made the turn around third.  I had a bad angle on the ball; I wasn’t sure if this was the game-winning hit or if we’d have to wait for Shane Victorino’s at bat.

Oh my god we wo–

Nice try, the Internet.

A nuclear bomb hit Citizens Bank Park, but instead of being incinerated, everyone cheered and screamed and high-fived and accidentally knocked over an old lady.

5-4, Phillies.  NLCS Phillies, 3-1.

In the parking lot, a small group of us politely informed so local sports anchors attempting to film their reports that the “Dodgers suck,” the “Yankees suck,” and “Manny isn’t Manny without a shot in the fanny” (Brilliant).

Well.  I guess we’re good now.

But I don’t know, maybe we should check with the Yankees first.

POST GAME BITCHING (Not really this time)

• Kudos to Ryan Howard for tying Lou Gehrig’s consecutive postseason RBI streak record.  Wonder if that means he’ll automatically get the NL MVP?
• TJ Simers of the LA Times, your bitterness is showing–the guy chooses to insult the Phillie Phanatic because his team can’t get their shit together:

“During Game 4 the furry mascot took a small Dodgers blue helmet, placed it on the ground and then pulverized it, much to the delight of the locals. Same tired skits, by the way, they employed a year ago.”

• Poor guy.  If he’s anything like the “I-just-don’t-want-to-hear-it” Dodger fan I saw on the subway, he was probably just surprised to learn a baseball game lasts nine innings, not between 6 and 7.
• And lastly, the bullpen.  The Dodgers had the late innings in their back pocket with George Sherrill and Jonathan Broxton, but we blew them out.  Meanwhile, our bullpen has been doing its job well.  Ha, ha, predictions.  They’re all but purposeless.