Brewers, Crowns, and Samuel L.

May 31, 2009-
8:30 AM: I woke up with my clothes on from the night before. I figured the jeans were still clean enough to wear and a shower wasn't too necessary. I slammed a few glasses of water, a little bit of coffee that I decided didn't taste very good, then some more water. I made a phone call to my friend Sean, he informs me that he will be at my house in approximately 30 minutes to pick me up. At this point I figure there is enough time for a shower, but instead I spend the 30 minutes sitting on my porch putting down even more water. I attempt to smoke a cigarette, two puffs and it was on the ground(approximately 30cents wasted.)

9:03 AM: Sean finally arrives. He gives me the "What the hell did you do last night" look. I just laugh and tell him it was a good night, aided by watching grown men fight in a cage and a little, okay, alot of tequila. We make our way to my brothers house, good thing he's driving.

Now if you know my brother, leaving for the Brewer game at 9 o'clock means leaving somewhere around 10. We finally load up the car. We stop at Wal-Mart to get the finally items needed to throw the best tailgating gala of all time. We forget ice.

11:13 AM(approximately): We arrive at Miller Park. The first sip of beer is not delicious. It actually causes me to grimace. After Bloody Mary number 2 I feel a little better. Beer can actually go down. We wait for Sean's girlfriend to arrive with "Bags." Sean's "Bags" game looks like it was built by Bob Vila. There was enough wood used on it to build a small shanty. My friend John and I declare ourselves as the reigning champions because we won one game last time we played. So we take on Sean and Cory(my brother.)
We lose, no longer Champions of the World. I don't mind at all. At this time Sean's girlfriend is popping a bottle of champagne. It does not taste very good. I can only describe it as trying to drink chalk. The bottle did come with a very nice sized cork, however. I threw the cork at Cory, and the battle begins. The rules were simple, throw the cork at whoever you would like. No one was safe, not even the parking attendants wearing brightly colored shirts. Sean nearly hit one. I took a few shots with the cork to bare skin, both on the hands. It did not feel pleasant.

The corking seized, and we figured it was time to head into the ballgame. We entered and received our Trevor Hoffman bobbleheads. Of course we open them up and check to see if we had the limited edition pin-striped ones, but we did not. Don't worry, my luck would change.
We head to TGIFridays. For $7.50 you can order a large beer. For $8.50 you can order a LARGE long island. We took option number 2. We get to our seats, they were nice. I like bleachers.

The game took place, the Brewers won, John almost got in a fist fight over a stray bobblehead that was left behind, Sean's girlfriend and other girl kept trying to come sit on our laps(they had standing room only...) At one point during the game Mike Cameron was up to bat. I turned to John and said, here's a home run. Sure enough, Eric was right. He turns to me and says, "Dude, we are going to Potowatami." I don't disapprove. Trevor Hoffman comes in and strikes guys out like it's his job(I guess it is.) Brewers win!

The game ends, I walk by myself back to the car. I make friends with a few fans. I pat a guy on the back for wearing a Pete Rose jersey. I almost "cork" a Cubs fan. The only reason I didn't was fear of losing the cork and having the game come to a halt for good. I get back to the car, Cory gets corked.

After a few good corkings, throwing around someone else's football, and putting the Taylormade "Bags" game back in Sean's girlfriend's giant Eco-Van, we make our way to Potowatami. We kind of agree that we are all going to go our separate ways with about $20-60. I had $60. I lose a few dollars here and there on slot machines. I order a drink. I am amazed to find out they have Seagrams 7 coming out of a tap gun. I want that in my house. I am finally down to about $20 and decide I got one more machine in me. Cory comes and sits next to me and informs me he is down maybe $10. I tell him I am down nearly $60, but I said I'm feeling it. Down to probably my final few spins I push the button. The machine had about 30 squares on it and I found out that crowns were "wild". On this particular spin I had a full screen of crowns, except for the first row(there were 6 rows of 5 or something, Long Islands are pretty strong)
I tap Cory on the shoulder and say, "Wow, that looks good, eh?" He says, "Sure."
We watch the credits rise, they started out pretty slow. The bottom of the screen told me how much I had won, but it was in math form. Something like 400x6x18 or something. Math isn't my forte. At this point I turn around to see I have a crowd of people watching my screen. A heavier-set African American woman says, "Ooo boy, you got yo'self at least 300." Now I'm excited. I'm cheering as if I'm watching my horse come the final stretch of the Kentucky Derby, and he's winning. The credits start spinning faster. They finally stop, and when I print out the ticket it says $380.64. Not a bad day at the tracks.

I take my little ticket that is worth much more than a single piece of paper with some black ink should be, and bring it to Sean to show off. He is jealous of my success.
I cash it out at one of the electronic stations because a burly biker man informs me that it is safe to do so(I was worried the machine would short me or something... remember, Long Islands are strong)

Now I decide to walk over to the bar, I try to not smile and try to look cool. I have a slight swagger I'm sure and the weight of all of the money in my back pocket probably made me lean to my right side a bit. I order a Seagrams 7 and 7, once again amazed that they have Seagrams on tap!
I look to my right and see a guy that resembles Samuel L. Jackson. I don't think he looked like him, but I think the alcohol was acting in the same way it does when girls get progressively better looking the more you drink. The more I drank, the more he looked like Shaft. I engage in conversation, trying to be cool. I offer to buy him and his wife(Samuel L. would have a much better looking wife) a drink. He is drinking Jack on the rocks(They didn't have Jack Daniels on tap.) She is drinking something fruity, it was red. They were very nice people. I find out it's his birthday. He is 53. I would have guessed 41. These two were dressed very nice, I'm sure they didn't need me to buy them a drink.
Samuel L.'s wife asked how much I had won. She assumed I won money and wasn't just some very wealthy 20something kid buying celebrity look-a-likes drinks. I said, "Enough." She smiled. Then Samuel L. Jackson told me something that I will probably never forget. It sums up life in general. (Long Islands=Strong, maybe not word for word)
Samuel L.: "You know why you won that money, and why you probably win money often? It's because you're good people. You don't take your winnings and run, you want to go out and share it with people. That's a good way to live your life, man."
Me: "Yeah, I guess I'm kind of like Robin Hood, I steal from the rich... and... (I take a quick glance up at the very well dressed couple)... and... I give to the rich." He laughed a hearty laugh, shook my hand and I was on my way.

10:34 PM: Made it home, fell asleep, slept for a long time.

Is raising your child to be a Cubs fan bad parenting?

As I made my way into Miller Park with my 13 year old brother at my side I thought one thing, "I really hope the Brewers win today." As of two years ago my little brother had no interest in the Brewers, or sports in general. That was until he attended his first game. He got Prince Fielder, the one player he had heard of at the time, to sign his baseball. That moment right there, a kind gesture by Prince, created a baseball fan for life. The Brewers just beat Chicago two days in a row, and I knew it was going to be hard to win a third. I hope for a Brewers victory every game I go to, but when my little brothers along I want it a little more. The excitement in his eyes when they capture a "W" is definitely worth the $15 to park, the $40 of tickets, the $7.50 beer, and the $6 lemonade(let me tell you that the lemonade does come with a "collectors" cup.)
After a hard fought game, and missed opportunities the Brewers fell two runs short. We were both a little bummed, but we had a good time.
This got me thinking, I have spent about 15 years of my life watching a team struggle to even make the playoffs, with a World Series not even in question. Then I thought, Cubs fans have waited over 100 years to be able to call themselves Champions of Baseball.
As we exited Miller Park and saw enough Cubs fans to make you feel sick to your stomach, I wondered how many of those little kids with their Sorriano jerseys on had no choice but to be a Cubs fan. Their parents raised them that way, and they don't know any better. They probably are not aware that their parents never saw them win a Championship, and their grandparents probably haven't either. Bad parenting? I think so. You wouldn't let your children play with fire, no of course not, they might burn themselves. You wouldn't let your children play near water without supervision, of course not, they may drown. You wouldn't let your children cheer for a baseball team that hasn't won a World Series in over 100 years, of course not... why would you wish decades of disappointment on your children?

M-E-S-S Mess, Mess, Mess

Last fall Green Bay Packer fans couldn't get their hands on a #4 Jets jersey soon enough. I'll admit it, I also found myself watching "the other team from New York." I grew up with Brett Favre. I knew one Packers quarterback. If anything I was happy for the whole situation. I now had two teams to watch and cheer for. The transition from Lambeau Field to Giants Stadium was a little more easy on me due to the similarity in color schemes. When looking at the television on a Sunday morning, with squinty eyes and a headache from whatever I did the night before, green and white looked very similar to green and gold. It was a good way to say goodbye to my childhood idol without having to say goodbye for good. It was very similar to those clean break-ups I've had with girls. The ones where you say, "Yes, lets still be friends." You talk for a few weeks, the talks turn to texts, the texts turn to maybe a Facebook message once a week, and in a few months you don't even remember her favorite color. Comparing ex-girlfriends and sports probably explains why most of my relationships have failed(I spend way too much time watching sports) but it seems to be a good analogy.
Now here is where the J-E-T-S turns into the M-E-S-S. It has been brought to my attention, and pretty much everyones attention, that Brett Favre doesn't want to officially retire. The latest rumors were saying that the Minnesota Vikings were interested. If I really wanted to I could go into a rant about how much I hate the idea of Brett Favre wearing purple. But I don't think it's really that necessary. I'll be the first one to say that Brett Favre was only bringing all this up because he knew people would talk about it. I do not want to be one of those people talking about it. But still, here I am, blogging about Brett Favre and his triumphant return to the football field. If he still thinks he can play football then I wish him well. But I'm sorry Brett, you've said your goodbyes too many times for me to get worked up again.
In five years maybe I will attend your Hall of Fame induction, but until then you're just a washed up QB who wanted to play for the.... Vikings!