Strasburg!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last night the greatest pitcher in the history of baseball was pitching, and I had tickets. After being cancelled on by several people, and having several Jennifer Lopezes (backup plans) also cancel, I finally found someone who wanted to go to the greatest baseball game of all time. (Should it be that hard…TWSS)

I was excited. I spent the entire day reading articles, watching highlight videos, and playing through an imaginary game in my head. I listened to the Jock Rock song (the DJ at the Paper Moon's favorite song) below like 25 times in a row, and added in a few Eye of the Tigers for good measure.



I sat and watched the clock at work, hoping it would soon hit 4:00 so I could get down to the stadium early. My seats were one row from the bullpen where all the action would be pre-game as Steven Strasburg warmed up.

When the clock hit 4, I ran outside, jumped in my car, and was headed towards the stadium! Or was I?

As I reversed out of my parking spot, a terrible crunching grinded out from the front of my 1992 Buick LeSabre. The car wobbled horribly and I knew immediately that I had a flat tire. The tire wasn’t just kind of flat. It was straight flat, not able to drive it 10 feet, and definitely not to the metro 3 miles away. F**K!

Instead of taking care of one of the most important people in my life, big blue, I decided instead that I was going to make it to this baseball game and ignore all the consequences of abandoning my dead car in her parking lot grave.

I sprinted back to my office to check the bus schedule and saw that the bus would be leaving in 1 minute! I ran like I was in Chariots of Fire, except not so slow-motiony and more super speed. As people from my work drove by, I wondered what they were thinking seeing me sprinting down the street in my work clothes. As soon as I hit the bus stop, the bus pulled up, and somehow I was at the metro even faster than if I drove there myself!

Because of the metro being really slow, I missed all the bullpen warm-ups. Instead we went to another Bullpen, the terrible excuse for a “bar” right outside the stadium gates.

What would you do if I told you you could pay $7 for a beer, and hang out in an asphalt lot with hundreds and hundreds of dudes? What? You would go somewhere else? Well that’s not what we did!

The best part of the Bullpen is the radar gun. You pay $1 and get to throw a pitch and it measures your speed. I get around 63 which is terrible, but you wouldn't believe what some guys were getting. 45, 50, 52. Some of these were big guys. Does nobody know how to throw the ball? A girl threw 46 to beat the guy. Ahhh annoying.

Soon we entered the stadium and after waiting 25 minutes to get a bartenders attention paid $20 for two beers at the Red Porch. (um moron why didn’t you just buy beer at a stand and walk 10 feet over to the bar?) Damn!

I guess there was a game, and it was quite amazing. The best part about living in a town like Washington DC is the fact that nobody knows anything about sports. The greatest pitcher in the history of the world is throwing his first pitch, and people are yelling for us to sit down. WTF. These are the same people who were booing Strasburg when he decided to step off the rubber and re-compose himself. Learn about sports DC people. Seriously.

Sitting at the bullpen was nice because while hundreds of people left after the 6th inning, we knew nobody was warming up and that SS would be back out there in the 7th.

Other than that I can recap the game by saying KKKKKKKKKKKKKK

So lets come to where I am today. I woke up on a couch with all my clothes on. I walked a few blocks to a metro. Transferred from red to yellow to blue. Had my co-worker pick me up at the metro. And now I’m at work with the same clothes as yesterday, smelling like beer, and my tire is still flat, and its raining, and I’m lazy. Fun times!