Contributed by Bench.
Astros 3, Yankees 9
W: Vazquez, L: Rodriguez
Interleague play sucks. It’s trite, it’s manufactured, it gives me a bunch of games every season against a team I honestly don’t give a fuck about. And beyond the superficial, knee jerk instinctual wretch in my bowels when the Yankees come up, this series emotionally is a waste of time.
The NEW Yankee Stadium is an unabashedly capitalist version of the House that Ruth Barfed. I attended the World Series clinching game there back in November, and after attending many games at the old stadium, I felt no different in my seat that time. I was still surrounded by a collection of YankeeWay parents annoyed that their kids weren’t appreciating the deep meaningful connection to generations past, to the bullshit mystique they’ve substituted for actual memories. The poor father in the row behind me, who brought his son from SUNY-Albany and two of the kid’s douchebag college friends, audibly gave up on the child before the game even began. Passing around their poorly hidden flask, the kids talked about how they would have rather been to the beginning of the first game to see Jay Z perform “Empire State of Mind” in person. The poor dad kept trying to talk about the “old days”, the late fucking 90’s, of which the kids were painfully oblivious.
Scott Brosius took the mound to throw out the ceremonial first pitch, and in between legen-(wait for it)-dary stories of beer pong, one of the morons asked who that was. I turned around made eye contact with the dad, who just shook his head in shame. “Scott Brosius,” I said, assuming that was enough. They had no clue who he was, but were into their flask enough to opine that he was probably a faggot. I happily agreed.
Those kids had an awful time at the game. Their dad got pissed at them getting hammered and generally acting like asses, which resulted in his son making an almost noble half hearted attempt at bringing his buddies into line, but ultimately giving in to the peer pressure of vaguely-aimed obscenities and stories of frat boy almost-fights and dudeitotallyfuckinggotwastedkidyouhavenoidea alcohol consumption. At the end of the day, they were happy to have been a part of ANOTHER NEW YORK YANKEE CHAMPIONSHIP and declared themselves TRUE YANKEE FANS that live life like no other sports fan in the world. “But, kid, seriously, it would have fucking awesome if the game ended after seven innings and we could have hit the fucking bars and pick up mad pussy.” Totally.
Those kids would have loved this game. Jeter led off with homerun in the first. Pence clubbed an equalizer in the second. But the OLDWAY took over, and Posada hit a grand slam off road Wandy and it was pretty much over at that point. Caballo ka-bonged, but in the end, the douchebag SUNY-Albany kids had another fun forgettable trip to the big city.
Fuck ‘em. Despite looking like shit for the most part and being luckier than that, the Americans stole a point from the English. Given the actually genuine World Cup Fever that has taken over this country, and even Houston, a lot more people in town were focused on the soccer. Good show, U.S. Now pull it together against the Serbians, who are being a bit too overlooked by our public than I would like.