Lorraine Says: Grand Slam

"I was really upset that you didn't write about our baseball game," Penny said as we settled into our seats Wednesday night. "I was expecting pictures and drawings. I've almost forgotten about the whole game now."

I laughed as I shovelled another nacho in my mouth. We were again sitting in the section we've affectionately dubbed, "the sewer." Center field at Joe Robbie Dolphin Landshark Sun Life Stadium is odd shaped, and often, especially when the Marlins are playing the Nationals on a Wednesday night, pretty empty.

It's funny that Penny and I enjoy baseball games as much as we do. I mean, baseball is obviously my favorite sport, and duh, cute(ish) boys in uniform but also: people. And dammit, we do not like people.

Just our luck, too, that we always seem to attract the biggest douches in the entire world.


Friday, a week ago, we went to our first game, the home opener against the Mets.

Now, for all you kids who are yawning and eye rolling and whining about having to hear about baseball, I'll spare you the game details, except that John Buck hit a fudgin' grand slam on opening day and it was pure excitement and I jumped up and down like a loser and high fived the guy in front of me with the beer breath and raspy voice. Totally amazing. We also won the game, which sorry to Nuggy about that. She can take comfort in the fact that the Mets won the two remaining in the series.

Anyways, Penny and I found our seats and soon discovered disadvantages to our section. Namely, we were seated directly in front the one kid who made Penny and me cry. On the ride home later, as I was asking if the kid really existed or if it was all a nightmare, Penny said this: "That kid was seriously special ed. Except, he was Hispanic so it's more like Special Eduardo." And I died laughing. Because we are both evil.

So, Special Eduardo and his mother sat behind us just after the game started. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Neither of them seemed to speak English, but again, not out of the ordinary. And then it happened: Mama Special handed her kid a whistle.

Seriously, she whipped out a whistle from her purse and handed it to her son and thus began our torture. At first, Pen and I just flinched. He kept blowing and we started to rub our ears. He leaned forward and started whistling louder and tears were falling from my eyes.

Penny: I have never wanted to punch a little kid until this very moment.

Lor: Are my ears bleeding?

He just kept whistling, completely off beat and with no rhyme or reason. Penny was throwing the most epic death stares over her shoulder. Sometimes he would stop, but only ever for a minute before it started again. One of those times, I nearly jumped out of my seat and yelled, "Oh my God, make it stop!"

I think the mother caught on. Finally. She took the whistle away...

AND GAVE HIM A COWBELL.

Apparently, there was a section in this lady's purse dedicated to annoying, musical, sound makers. If the game where any longer, I have no doubt we would've been treated to a recorder or a freaking kazoo.

Special Eduardo went to town on the cowbell. Obviously, the grand slam and the win, my delicious corn dog and the amount that we giggled made the entire thing worth it, but sometimes when I close my eyes at night, I can still hear that cowbell.

On Tuesday of this week, I found $2 tickets for the Wednesday game and I spend more money on a single bottle of nail polish so it was obvious to me that we had to go.

The game, as I mentioned, was pretty empty. Not even horrendously so, though, because of ticket promotions for that night. Also, as an aside, Penny calls the Washington Nationals the Walgreens because their logos look alike. I just googled this and apparently a lot of people agree with Penny.

Fail.

The Walgreens/Washinton thing however, was just the beginning of the little association game we played that night. It started with the guy behind us. At first we only noticed his voice. Think monotone serial killer. We both turned around to get a glimpse.

Pen: He kind of looks like Chewbacca

Lor: ...had a baby with a banana.

For a second I felt bad about being mean and calling him Chewbacca Banana. I mean, I wonder what people say about me? Stacey said I looked like Francine from Arthur and I'm pretty sure I insulted her.

WTF. Not it.

Then I didn't feel so bad because ChewBan and his girl started having a tickling match. Now, there was an empty row between us, but still, all the kicking and bouncing and tickling was rattling our seats. I'm pretty sure my $2 tickets didn't mention anything about vibrating seats or warn against the possibility of motion sickness.

Then his girl started squealing and gasping for breath. Everyone in the lower seats was turning around and looking for the tortured pig among us, but do you think that stopped the tickling match? Nope.

We came from behind to win against the Walgreens 7-4. I can put up with people as long as my Marlins are winning. Even if it is a girl in pleather pants and a t-shirt, booty popping every time we score. Even if it is a guy whose cheer of choice is something oddly similar to the Xena Warrior Princess cry. Even if it is the lovechild of a pitbull and a hobbit scarily oogling you as he walks past your seats. Yep. It's worth it.

To end, I'd like to give you a little bit of education on dressing for a baseball game. Like a theme park and the mall, I can see little excuse to wear heels there, ever. Are you going straight to the club after? No? Leave them home. That's not what I wanted to say though. I want to talk about team apparel, or really:

The Seven Sins of Wearing Team Apparel:

7. Old Team Apparel - Not quite deadly, really. Mostly I'm excited if people are representing the right team. Times have changed, though, colors have changed, we as a people have changed. Or something. If you want to achieve team apparel Godliness, you should be up to date.

6. Old Player Apparel - Okay, maybe this isn't deadly either. Players change so often around here that you can't always keep up with the times, especially with the economy the way it is. But again, perfection is right team, current player, current colors.

5. Team Apparel in Weird Colors - I'm sorry a... pink... Marlins hat? Say wuh?

4. Baseball Team That Isn't Even Playing - This rule might also be named, "the next person I see wearing a Yankees hat is getting a kick to the shin." We're at a freakin' Mets/Marlins game OMG WHY DO YOU HAVE A YANKEES HAT ON? If you don't have Mets/Marlins gear, you cannot just substitute any flippin' team you want. Just wear a regular t-shirt.

3. College Team - Oh, wait, now we're not even in major league baseball? You're going to wear a University of Miami shirt? Dammit. Get the Yankees hat.

2. Wrong Fudgin' Sport - A HEAT JERSEY?! AT THE BASEBALL GAME. I hope you all realize that I am actually yelling. This caps lock is not a ruse. There is yelling. Please, no basketball, hockey, football, soccer, etc jerseys at a baseball game. Do not do.

1. Wrong Sport From Another State - Just... just go. Leave now.

I give you all permission to print that out and live by these rules.

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Have fun and safe weekends. And remember, when in doubt, leave the cowbell at home.

Or something.