Fuck the Yankees. That's where we should begin.
Arriving at the brand spanking new iteration of the house that Ruth built, Buzz and I were greeted with ticket prices exceeding $300 apiece. "I'm sorry, does that come with a free blowjob?" No, it doesn't. So what do two young, enterprising fellows such as Buzz and myself do? Go to the bar. For the price of a first baseline ticket at McAffee Coliseum, we drank our way through five innings of classic American baseball, argued with locals about the relative personal failings of Alex Rodriguez, and donned Oakland A's ball caps for every moment except God Bless America.
Winner winner winner? The Twinkies. In a dramatic turn of events, New York's unconquerable, unhittable Mariano Rivera coughed up a game-winning grand slam to the slumping beast from Minnesota Jason Kubel. Who, it should be noted, could do a great deal more damage of that variety as the season progresses. And of course, we can only hope that a late Yankees collapse this afternoon is a sign of more good things to come in September.
Dot racing has come quite a long way. They face off Subway Restaurant-sponsored train cars at the YankeesTM StadiumTM.
Love the dads taking pictures of their soon to be roided offspring.
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