One of the better weekends in recent memory, due to a great time in Lawrence and Kansas City and a fantastic sweep of the Yanks.
Thursday: Leave Grand Forks around noon. When Alex falls asleep, Danny and I pass the time by putting the lottery teams in a hat, doing a mock lottery, then divvying up teams and doing our version of the first round of the NBA draft. Alex wakes up around the 19th pick, figures out what we're doing, mutters "you guys are unbelievable," then goes back to sleep. Arrive in Lawrence about 10, pick up Lane and Skye, and hit Henry McT's for 1$ beers and 3$ chicken strip baskets. It goes without saying that I will be a frequent visitor of Henry McT's.
Friday: Apartment hunting all day. Look at 8 different places, and the longshot going in (The Reserves on West 31st) emerges as the runaway victor. The only downside is the lease doesn't begin until mid-August, so it appears that I am stuck in GF for longer than planned. Get back to Lane and Skye's, where we are joined by Dunph, who is training in K.C. Game on.
We go to Bigg's Barbeque, and for the next 2 hours, I don't put a thing in my mouth that doesn't taste phenomenal....except for my foot, which doesn't taste so great as Gay-Rod homers twice (see preceding post.)
When we arrive at the Red Lyon, I am at the bar getting my first Morgan of the night, a little bit sullen, when a dude in a Sox hat slaps me as he walks by and points at a TV. It's now 6-4 and we're still threatening. After the comeback is complete my mood is restored. Let's booze. As if that comeback wasn't enough, we then watch Dunph do his best Roy McAvoy impression on the 18th in Golden Tee, and Lane impossibly erases a six-shot deficit in one hole for the W. Good times all around.
After bar is when things get interesting. No one really remembers when the conversation turns left into Ridiculousville, but Dunph ends up throwing down the challenge that we all shave our beards and sport moustaches for the Royals-Twins game the next day. While we're at it, we shave Lane's head, the dog, and put a fade in my head, Julian-style. Yikes.
Saturday, 10:00 AM: I have now slept a total of 8 hours in two nights, and am feeling the effects. Not even the Old Reliable from Subway (Roast beef, cheese, lettuce, onions, salt and pepper on italian) can pull me out of it. I have doubts about tailgating.
Saturday, 12:30 PM: Doubts erased after a couple of parking lot beers. Feeling good about drinking, betting on the Twins against Zach Greinke at -1 1/2, and my moustache. Kaufmann Field is beautiful. It slides into my #4 spot behind Fenway, Wrigley, and Camden. Keep in mind my list is only of stadiums I've been to.
Now normally we are gonna talk at least a little bit of shit, especially when the crowd is only 60/40 Royals fans, but don't let anyone tell you differently: Royals fans are surprisingly feisty. This leads to some interesting exchanges:
Guy in front of us nearly has a heart attack cheering after a misplayed ball leads to two early K.C. runs. Dunph tells him, "You might as well cheer for something, cause it's not gonna be for wins."
Guy behind us exclaims that Emil Brown is his favorite player after he catches a fly ball. "What?!?!" Lane screams, and starts dialing his phone. "Lane, who are you calling?"
"My dad, to tell him that this guy's favorite goddam player is Emil Brown!"
During a between-inning home run derby for little kids, a kid in a Royals hat is swinging and missing repeatedly. Dunph lets our whole section know: "That's pretty typical of Kansas City baseball: Shitty." After the kid is done and the Twins fans are booing him, Dunph shouts "You suck just like the Royals!!!" For some reason I think this is the funniest thing I have ever heard, and it results in me giggling for a solid inning and a half.
Late in the game, a guy a few sections away drops a foul ball. A guy in front of us states "He woulda had that if he was wearing a glove." I let him know "It wouldn't matter if he caught the ball, he'd be a huge dork for wearing a glove to a game." 35 year old guy next to first guy turns around, flashes a glove at me, and says "Oh yeah? What's wrong with that?" Me: "Ummm, you look like a huge dork." That one got tons of laughs from our surrounding area.
OK, maybe those weren't examples of Royals fans being feisty. Just losers. Except for one old man who told Lane as he walked out of the stadium "Have some class you dumbass." That was pretty cool, plus bonus points for rhyming while being feisty. And yes, the Twins covered the spread.
Sunday: Nothing eventful during the day, besides a loss for Kobe, which never hurts. On the drive home Danny and I set up the NBA brackets and pick the winners. By winners I mean "which coach would kick the other coach's ass." I have a finals of Sam Mitchell over Jeff Van Gundy (what can I say, Van Gundy impressed me when he got dragged around by Alonzo ten years ago), while Danny goes with Scott Skiles over Jerry Sloan. This is followed by the wonderful Sox-Yanks game on ESPN radio, highlighted by the four homers in a row. We heard the first three, then abruptly lost the station. As I frantically scan through the others, I scream about how Varitek was probably gonna go deep while I was hitting the fucking seek button. I'll let you figure out what happened next. Still a great game, great series, and great sweep. Best record in baseball, with the slumping Blue Jays coming to town.
Thank you Lane and Skye for being superb hosts, the Royals for sucking and letting me and Dunph win $150 when the Twins tried their hardest to lose, and Dan Schulman and Dave Campbell for bringing me some happiness during a long, boring drive.
