A
abooja
Guest
Because, in racing, they don't have three-hour rain delays on a Friday night, causing the race to start at nearly 10:00 p.m. and fans to begin commuting home at 2:00 a.m. At least, not if the race is being televised on a major network.
Because, if your guy gets taken out early in the race, you can still root for one of 42 other guys, one or two of whom you like almost as much as *your* guy and for whom rooting helps make the rest of the race enjoyable and exciting.
Because race fans don't have to be told when to stop drinking. They'll do it for as long as they please, or until the the last victory lap has been run and all racing personnel have left the track -- whichever comes first.
Case in point: Yankee Stadium last night. Yankees versus Red Sox. Classic rivalry, as it was the first of a three-game series with the Yanks leading the Sox in the standings by three games. I happened to be lucky enough to get a couple of free tickets thrown my way at work. I was just going home to watch qualifying, so it was a nice little unexpected treat.
But the thunderstorms in NYC began at around 6 p.m. yesterday, an hour before game time. I would stay put at home until the rain cleared some more or they announced something official. At 9 p.m., seeing the players take the field and the tarp slowly removed on television, I scoot out the door and hop on the subway towards the Bronx. It's miserably hot and humid and my subway car has no air conditioning and there's nowhere to sit. By the time I get to my seat along the 3rd base line, it's the 4th inning and the Yanks are already down 1-0. Great.
During the sixth inning, I get up to get my second beer of the evening, only to find out that they're no longer serving beer. Livid, I return to my seat and ride out the humidity and the late hour. The Red Sox continue to score and, save a late inning comeback by the Yankees, fairly well dominate the game. Some Yankee fans, who have been sitting around the stadium and surrounding bars and restaurants getting loaded for the last 4-1/2 hours, are livid at the sizeable number of Red Sox fans in attendance. Two jerks directly behind me are cursing all Sox fans in our vicinity, primarily questioning their sexuality and telling them how much they suck and don't belong in Yankee Stadium. Fist fights are breaking out all over the place. Good thing they stopped serving beer hours ago.
These guys could probably start a brewery with what remained in their bladders.
To sum things up, the Yankees lost 4-3 and I wouldn't get home until 3 a.m. Still, it was a pretty decent game and I'm glad I went. The New York/Boston rivalry was too good to pass up. I just couldn't help but be reminded why professional baseball is no longer my sport of choice. Because the drunks and the humidity and the fatigue would have been a lot more tolerable if it was a late August evening in Tennessee and I was only commuting up the road to my tent at the drive-in movie theater. Oh, and if it was loud engines and not loud mouths surrounding me everywhere...
Because, if your guy gets taken out early in the race, you can still root for one of 42 other guys, one or two of whom you like almost as much as *your* guy and for whom rooting helps make the rest of the race enjoyable and exciting.
Because race fans don't have to be told when to stop drinking. They'll do it for as long as they please, or until the the last victory lap has been run and all racing personnel have left the track -- whichever comes first.
Case in point: Yankee Stadium last night. Yankees versus Red Sox. Classic rivalry, as it was the first of a three-game series with the Yanks leading the Sox in the standings by three games. I happened to be lucky enough to get a couple of free tickets thrown my way at work. I was just going home to watch qualifying, so it was a nice little unexpected treat.
But the thunderstorms in NYC began at around 6 p.m. yesterday, an hour before game time. I would stay put at home until the rain cleared some more or they announced something official. At 9 p.m., seeing the players take the field and the tarp slowly removed on television, I scoot out the door and hop on the subway towards the Bronx. It's miserably hot and humid and my subway car has no air conditioning and there's nowhere to sit. By the time I get to my seat along the 3rd base line, it's the 4th inning and the Yanks are already down 1-0. Great.
During the sixth inning, I get up to get my second beer of the evening, only to find out that they're no longer serving beer. Livid, I return to my seat and ride out the humidity and the late hour. The Red Sox continue to score and, save a late inning comeback by the Yankees, fairly well dominate the game. Some Yankee fans, who have been sitting around the stadium and surrounding bars and restaurants getting loaded for the last 4-1/2 hours, are livid at the sizeable number of Red Sox fans in attendance. Two jerks directly behind me are cursing all Sox fans in our vicinity, primarily questioning their sexuality and telling them how much they suck and don't belong in Yankee Stadium. Fist fights are breaking out all over the place. Good thing they stopped serving beer hours ago.
These guys could probably start a brewery with what remained in their bladders. To sum things up, the Yankees lost 4-3 and I wouldn't get home until 3 a.m. Still, it was a pretty decent game and I'm glad I went. The New York/Boston rivalry was too good to pass up. I just couldn't help but be reminded why professional baseball is no longer my sport of choice. Because the drunks and the humidity and the fatigue would have been a lot more tolerable if it was a late August evening in Tennessee and I was only commuting up the road to my tent at the drive-in movie theater. Oh, and if it was loud engines and not loud mouths surrounding me everywhere...
