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Trip to New York City, Part IV

Baseball, Bronx Bombers Style

by  HogWild

Now it was time to go see the Da Bronx Bombers New York Yankees. I was psyched. There’s an electricity about Yankee Stadium that you just don’t find in other parks. And excitement, an energy. Maybe it’s the hustle and bustle of 50,000 fans drinking like Billy Martin in a parking lot. Maybe it’s the Bronx street vendors pushing their bootleg apparel in your face. Maybe it’s the thick scent of marijuana in the air. Ya know, you’d expect NY fans to be there. But lots of fans were there for the Phillies. The Philly Blunts! AAAHHAAA!  

If Monet were a hoodlum . . .

Bronx Graffiti can sometimes be confused as art.  

Jose needs some attention, doesn't he?

This Queens Graffiti is simply a nub named Jose thinking he's important.

Korean should not be confused for Graffitti!

This Graffiti artist writes like a Chinaman!


This was gonna be good. A good ole Yankee game. Got there early, but not early enough to see the Monuments behind the outfield fence. Kinda sucked. Oh well, I’ll do that tour next time. Except, I don't know if I'll go with my parents the next time. A ballgame is a great way to bond with your buddies or your co-workers. And even with Dad, or with Mom. But not with Mom AND Dad. Okay, maybe that’s a bit harsh. Because things did settle down once we got there. But on the ride over, OY! The intense arguing flashed me back to my childhood. My Dad is going 55 in a 50 mph zone. Momdukes goes berserk! “Why are you speeding! Slow down! We’re gonna crash! There’s no Jews in NASCAR! Stop speeding!” 

Purty flowers.

The Monuments at Yankee Stadium honor the Greats. I'm lobbying for a mediocre section so my faves like Claudell Washington and Mike Pagliarulo can be enshrined.

25 Time World Champs! That's like, a lot.

The Yankees are like America itself. Hated worldwide because they're the Best and not afraid to flaunt it. Also because they have a lot of successful drunks.


I’m like, “Chill momdukes, squirrels in strollers are passing us, it’s okay. But she keeps screaming. And she’s all claustrophobic too. If we even get 6 feet from a divider she leans all the way to the side and clutches the door for dear life. I couldn’t stand it. I had to do something. But I was helpless. So for Mother’s Day I got Mom the Horse-Blinders she’s always needed. That way it cuts off her peripheral vision. Actually, I think a tranquilizer would be a better solution. Not that Larryman (Dad) is so innocent. The man avoids signaling like they put a tax on it. Sheee—he could be a black lady’s wig the way he WEAVES through traffic too. My Dad is a cab driver at heart. But he never passed the civil service test. I think because his grammar was too good or something.  

Da Train

We could have avoided it all if we had taken the subway.

HONK HONK! Show me your Honkers!

Plus there was mad traffic. In Dayton, OH they complain about traffic if they can't switch lanes while going 65. In NYC, it's not considered bad traffic until you pass out from the fumes of carbon monoxide.


So we get into the Stadium. We have great seats. We can see all  the action. Except there was some action I didn’t want to see. That would be Michael Bolton singing the National Anthem. What up wit dat? At least he cut his hair now. He used to look like a retired mop. But goodness, Michael Bolton? I think I’d rather have had Roseanne sing. Um, wait. No. Michael Bolton was just fine. I’ll take Soul Whiner over Crotch Grabber any day. 

I don't remember this queer dance being in my job description!

The Yankees Ground Crew dances YMCA while they work. In NYC, it's always about entertainment. Except, who the hell wants to watch tubby, burly guys dance? They need to replace them with the Rockettes! Or at least some big booty rap video ho's!

The coolest part about Yankee Stadium is the train that rumbles through. Hey, it beats Shea where the airplanes rumble through.

The Residentially Challenged like to hop off the train and solicit Donations right from the bleachers. 


Oh, and the Blue Jays had this nub with an awesome name. Homer Bush. What a baseball name! I once knew a professional SLUT with that name too. Well, I didn’t KNOW her, but uh, there was this High School party and uh, we only chipped in 5 units each, and she was the only one available and uh, I didn’t know she was my dude’s Grandma! Uh, JEREMY! Stop bringing up painful memories!

The famous bridge-thingee atop Yankee Stadium.

And talk about painful. Think about this. Because clearly no one does. After a batter strikes out, the opposing teams throws the ball around the infield. What does this do for his self esteem?! It’s bad enough this nub has too embarrassingly walk back to his dugout without using his bat. And the TV camera is splashing his disappointed mug all over the set. But then they arrogantly throw the ball around just for fun. They’re like, “Well we’re bored here in the infield since you didn’t even HIT the ball. So we need to prevent our hands and feet from falling asleep, so we’ll toss it around while you scoot on back to the bench. And to top it off, the stadium scoreboard flashes something cruel like; “WHIFF!”, or “YOU’RE OUT!”, or “YOU SUCK!” And then, I swear this happened, the announcer guy at Yankee Stadium got on and matter-of-factly stated, “Blue Jays player number 14 has just been disowned by his Mother.” Jeez! It’s like leave the guy alone. If you associate such horrible events with his striking out, he won’t want to do it again. And that’s not what we want! We want this nub to LOVE striking out. That’s better for us! So every time an opposing batter strikes out, we should send him a complimentary brewski. Or pat him on the back and say “Better luck next time.” Maybe even shake his hand and say, “Thanks.” This will encourage him to help us out in the future.  


But striking out is NOT the most embarrASSing thing that happens at baseball games. No, on the scoreboard, this dork proposes to his girlfriend. Now, this was romantic when the FIRST guy did it in the summer of 1967. But now, it’s all trite. His marriage proposal was sandwiched between a posting thanking Boy Scout Troop #5631 for attending today’s game and a notice to the guy who drives a red Honda Civic with New Jersey plates, that he left his lights on in the parking lot. BOOTLEG! 

Only in a sport like Baseball can a guy like that be considered a star "athlete." Moooooooooooooooo

David Wells pitched a Perfect Game! 27 up, 27 down. Wait, that sounds like his usual trip to the All-You-Can-Eat Buffet!

I think I ripped my skivvies on that one!

The best job in America. Baseball Camera Man. You get to go to all the games for free. Plus you can squeeze out a thunder bomb and no one is around to care!


And think of the pressure. How would you ever know if your bim really wanted to marry you or not? “Honey, did you say yes because you love me, or because 52,384 people were waiting for your reaction?” Man, I’ve seen less pressure at Used Car Lots. 


Another stupid scoreboard game. At the Yankees game, you're supposed to guess which subway car will be shot up by gangsters. 

But THAT question was not the worst I saw on the scoreboard during that game. Apparently anybody can ask anything they want on the big board if they fork over the bacon bits. And some of these I thought were a little inappropriate! I mean, a full stadium full of strangers doesn’t need to read: 

“Mike, are you still a Virgin?”—your ex

“How are your hemorrhoids Mrs. Stocker?”—Dr. Stein

“Johnny,  you left your Testicular Acne ointment on my night stand.”—Uncle Dennis

Bring on the Beer!

This part of the park is named for Mickey Mantle.

It was a good game. The Yanks lost though. I think I’m bad luck. They seem to always lose when I show up. But it’s all part of my plan. Pretty soon I’m gonna have George Steinbrenner paying me NOT to show up to the games.

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