Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.

20 June 2006

The Don Attends a Soccer Game - Somebody Should Get Whacked.

Greetings. Before I start my Soccer Takes, let me say this. You are either reading this on the Airliners.net Forums or you are reading it on my Blog. If there is a reference you don't understand, it may be directly related to one or the other. Just don't want anyone to get hung up on something…especially when I am lambasting Soccer. Also, I don't want to hear how bad you think baseball sucks etc. Start a thread. This is about me giving Soccer a chance. I know that Soccer Fan's only comeback to to bash baseball whether they know it, understand it, or have seen it or not. At least Iknow Soccer, understand Soccer, and have seen Soccer.

As many of you already know, after years of vexatious urging, LHMark finally got me to attend a Soccer Game. Saturday - 17JUN is a day that will live in its own infamy around here. My abhorrence of Soccer is not a secret with anyone who knows me. However, I went in with a clear mind (as well as Kevlar body armor and *911 all cued up on the celly) to give Soccer a fair shot.

The evening got underway with a small tailgate in one of the parking lots. Ironically, it’s the parking lot I use when I got to baseball games and there was a baseball game that night. The urge to grab my nuts and man up and see a real sport was overwhelming, but I fought it off. The tailgate lasted about 5 minutes seeing as the logistical master that LHMark is, never called me to let me know when he was getting there etc. By the time I get the genius on the horn and found out the game plan, its past 6pm, game time 7 something. Off to the stadium Brenna and I go. That’s right, fellow Soccer hater Brenna was coming along too, because I was not going through this alone. As we approached the exit off the Expressway for the Stadium, the traffic was backed up more than LHMark after eating a Louisville Slugger and a Foot Long Hebrew National. I thought I would go down a few exits, turn around, and get off in the other direction…apparently there were about 3,000 other extremely intuitive people who all had the same idea. Fuckers. A baseball game and a Soccer game on the same night at the same time. Brilliant. I ended up getting off in the hood. I had Bren load the gat. Turned up the rap music and tilted my hat sideways. Yes…I blend. After getting some Rand McNally-esque directions from Mark, I find a spot to park and we start our 3 or 4 block walk to where Mark and his crew are. The walk wouldn't have been bad, if it wasn't about 94 degrees out. By the time we find Mark, we have enough time to throw down a couple beers real quick then gear up to leave for the walk to the Soccer Stadium. And its not like Mark was sporting any good beer either. I had to ruin my body with German Beer. Oh the horrors…Mark even has pictures.

The Crew

Me ruining my stellar physique with a German Beer.

PAETEK Park - We managed not to get assaulted on our way to the stadium. Once we get there, my initial thoughts of the stadium were all true and then some. It looks like a giant robot stopped in the Crapchester ghetto and took a big aluminum shit that came out looking like a Soccer Stadium. Apparently the stadium is still incomplete, as they plan on adding another upper deck to one side of the stadium - once they can bend the taxpayers over for more money. Of course Mark splurged for the tickets on the one side that does indeed have an upper deck. Should have known better. On our way to find out seats….we are held up in a mass of people as the Soccer teams need to take the field. The entrance "tunnel" that lacks any characteristics of a tunnel went right across the concourse. Excellent planning. Whose bright idea was this? LOT's? This break in action though, did give me a chance to notice that the offices of the stadium as well as the merchandise shot were both being run out of…trailers. Fucking perfect. What, there wasn't enough aluminum left over to build a storage shed that could double as the team store?
Once the players finally dragged their asses on the field (and hey, who actually wants to get out there and play Soccer?), we were underway again in search of our seats. On the way, Mark stops and buys a Keg Can of Heineken. 6 bucks. 6 fucking dollars for 12 oz. of beer. Who in the blue hell is in charge of concessions here? George Steinbrenner? After giving the concession's a few looks and deciding I didn't want to eat anything off of a cart, we started to head up to the upper deck. The stairwell was a blast from the past. I think they used recycled aluminum foil to build it, and I won't lie, I thought I was climbing up a few stories to get to the waterslides at the local amusement park. Wait, waterslides are fun. This is Soccer…Soccer isn’t fun. Must be the heat. We climb past the "Suites" with fake grass rugs and some multipurpose folding chairs and reach our level. Bren and I need a beer. $5.50 for a 16 ounce plastic bottle of Bud Light. God I miss Frontier Field. God I miss Baseball. God I miss my manhood that I lost at the entrance gate. But I digress. Right about now, Mark made a masterful observation. When they gave me my plastic bottle of beer, they kept the cap. Apparently so you cannot go Soccer Fan and fill the bottle up with piss, cap it up and throw it at someone. However, they gave him his keg can of beer unopened. That thing is as solid as a 3 day old growler and could do a lot more damage than my plastic bottle. Gotta Love Soccer Logic.

View of the surrounding neighborhood - Just out of site are the muggings.

Finally, we start the climb to our seats. Jesus the steps are at an 8degree angle. Misstep and you are going down no doubt. Here's our row. Sweet, there isn't enough legroom to sit there comfortably, much less walk by people on the way to your own seat. As we sit down, I suddenly feel like I'm 4 years old sitting in a booster seat at a restaurant. I think the city bought up all the used booster seats from the area Pizza Hut's, gave'em a hideous paint job and installed them. LHMark warned me that the announcer who pretty much doesn't shut his piehole all game would get on my nerves and sure enough he had. The game hadn't even begun. I'm already looking at my watch thinking I would rather be a fluffer in a gay gangbang film…but CastleIsland already has that job so I'm stuck.

Tip-Off, or Face-Off, or is it Kick-Off…ah screw it. The game starts. Gotta love games played on fake grass…"but it looks real". Something even more disturbing was that on the fake grass, whenever a player kicked the ball…fake dirt went flying as well. WTF? During this time, Marked befriended some lady and her husband sitting next to him and proceeded to let her know I hated Soccer, liked baseball etc. Well, it was clear that she was truly a child of Satan because she bashed baseball and tried to talk up Soccer. How you can talk up Soccer at a Raging Referee's Game (errrr Rhino's but help me out here. The teams colors are sinus infection green and yellow, yet their jerseys are white with black stripes), with the various selections from "Jock Jams", "Party Hits of the 90's" and "Worst Dance Music Ever" CD's playing constantly? Oh wait, back to the field…some guys are kicking the ball back and forth to each other - yawn.

A few minutes into the game…it happened. Commercials on the big video scoreboard. Now wait a second. While the game is going on, on the field…they are playing commercials? Did I not have to pay 15 bucks for a nose bleed seat? Did I not just drop $5.50 for a goddamn beer? Now, I have to watch or at least be distracted by commercials in the middle of play?!?!?! This was the first thing that set me off. Soccer Fan tried to defend it and say baseball does the same thing. Not true. In Minor League Ball, they run promotional contests in-between innings while the players are warming up. Never once has Rich Ferrari tried to tickle me with stories of stacking cars right in the middle of a 2 run scoring triple by Jason Bartlett. Not Soccer though. Commercials for Cars, groceries, movies, tampons, educational videos on how to make the most effective blood and urine bombs not to mention several other things all ran on the scoreboard. I have never missed a big play in baseball because I was watching commercials on the scoreboard. Meanwhile, back on the field, some guys were still kicking the ball back and forth to each other - Yawn.

Here is the Monitor for all the commercials. It also doubles as a scoreboard apparently.

Despite feeling violated with the constant barrage of commercials and Ace of Base songs, I did concentrate as best I could on the game. Believe it or not, I do understand how Soccer works. I understand the bulk of the rules. I understand much of what goes on, on the field. I watched, but I had a complete lack of enthusiasm. And it wasn't from a lack of trying…I tried. I watched the crowd erupt whenever the ball got within a hundred feet of the goal then fizzle out like LHMark's sex life when it was kicked back past midfield. I sat there…void of all feelings towards the action (or lack there of) on the field.

The first half was cruising right along. I told Brenna the time is going by quickly (thank god), when all of a sudden the crown goes nuts. Holy shit - A GOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL. *Yawn*. I watched the replay. Some Raging Referee scored on a header then proceeded to go Kerri Strug and start doing back flips and shit all over the field. Dude realizes he scored a goal in Soccer right, and didn't win the MegaMillions Lotto right? Although the chances of getting either are very similar. Seriously. Even the "excitement" of a goal didn't get me greased up. And like I said Soccer Fan…I had an open mind. Its just that things are not going well for the game in my view.

Halftime - Time to reflect. I came in with an open mind, and I thought the "action" on the field was boring. Just my view. I hate the announcer and wish vultures would peck out his vocal cords. The music was bad 15-20 years ago and its still bad now. The commercials were ridiculous…just like Soccer Fan. Sorry guys. Also, I know American Soccer has a lot more scoring than say "World Soccer" and even the goal I already saw didn't get me exited. It didn't get me impassioned about the game or what was going on down on the field. So far the highlight was a couple of Portland Timbers laying on the field with tears in their eyes are they feigned injury. I was extremely disappointed because I wanted to see someone flopping on the ground grabbing their Hamstring like it was just torn from the bone, only to pop up good as new a minute or two later. I couldn't even get that.

Halftime is over. 45 minutes left. Time starts dragging worse than the play on the field. After a couple fabricated injuries, Portland Scored a goal and the stadium became silent. I thought the score was tied at 1 now, but much to my surprise Portland now has a 2-1 lead. It seems that Portland managed to score a goal late in the first half and I didn't even know. Must have been watching commercials again. I know at a baseball game, when the opposing team hits a home run - I know. Time is dragging. I'm railing on Soccer to help keep me entertained, and after being reserved for much of the game (lets face it, I don't want Soccer Fan beating my ass…I was out numbered greatly in their home), I started to get loose.

At some point Mark made the treacherous journey through the seats, over the people and down the stairs to the concourse. Brenna had him pick up 2 more beers for us. God we need it. We need it to breath some life back into us. The life that this Soccer game is dragging out of us! Mark comes back with 2 cold ones. Should cost $11 but he says $12 because he "tipped". Riiiight. Lets tip the chick who is just standing there making an hourly wage who had to reach and grab two bottles then twist the cap off. Right. Give her an extra dollar. Funny, I didn't see mark tip the guy who handed him his Keg Can. I can't help but think that after the game LHMark was eating off the McDonalds Dollar Menu courtesy of Mike and Brenna. L-H-Mark Math. It screws you every time.

On the opposite side of the stadium, in the corner are a band of diehards that were in a bleacher section. Banners, flags, chants you name it they were doing it. And yeah, plenty of "Ole Ole Ole Ole" chants. Matter of fact, there were so many of them I was about 3 chants away from going on a killing spree. Any time a bold of lightning wanted to cook them in their aluminum seating…I was all for it. They had mottos hanging up like "Life free die on the field' etc. Where did they get their inspiration from? Kevin Winslow? What's next, Raging Referees - Semper Fi? And while I was just joking about that, the group of halfwits broke out with military cadences - Soccer style. I love cadences and somehow I have to believe that if my old T.I. was there, MSgt. Rodrigue would have been wipping all kinds of ass over there. Crapchester Soccer - Semper Fi Hoorah! Oh, action on the field…its still booooooring. Hell, a lady 2 rows in front of me had it right. She as reading a book! Damnit. Why didn't I think of that. Nothing could make me read like the boredom induced by a Soccer game!!!!!

Finally, the clock is winding down. There is a sense of urgency in the air. Crapchester Soccer Fan is nervous. Their streak of 4 ties in a row could come to an end with a loss. Crapchester has the ball, they are deep in Timber territory, there's a shot on goal, it’s a header, the crowd goes freaking crazy it’s a goal…..nope, the ball sails wide right like a Scott Norwood Super bowl kick and goes out of bounds. At this point I start screaming "TAKE THAT SOCCER FAN! THAT’S WHAT YOU GET! Best time of the night right there. Best time. Soccer Fan did start taking a burn with that comment though. They can kiss my Italian ass …seeing as it was Italian Night at the park! If I gotta suffer through this drudgery, I can talk shit. With a couple of minutes left, the Raging Ref's tied the game at two. I have no idea what happened other than they scored…and I couldn't have cared less.

Regulation time runs out and there are a few minutes in grab your hammy and dive time. That time ends with little fan fair. The real ref's whistle blows and simultaneously the entire crowd gets up and starts to leave. You gotta be kidding me. It's 2-2! I did not just sit here in the blazing heat getting ass raped on the price of beer for the better part of 2 hours to not see an outcome! I watched wto teams play a game for over 90 minutes and there was no victor? This just sealed Soccer's fate in my book. Where the hell is the shootout? Maybe give a free goal to the team with the best "injury" performance? Something to actually get a goddamn winner on the field? Things like this are what will keep Soccer from ever making it big in America - And that’s fine by me!

Apparently the attendance was disappointing, according to Rochester sports columnist Bob Matthews. 9,174 people showed up for the game. Even though that was more people than the K.C. Wizards of the MLS drew that night (9,014 in a stadium about 10 times the size of Paetek park) and the NY Soccer team only drew 10,207 in their game in their huge stadium. However, in Crapchester a town dominated by Soccer Fan, this was a "small crowd" And guess what Soccer guy - The night belonged to baseball. Over 12,000 fans went to Frontier Field to watch the baseball game. Best crowd of the year for the Redwings. I should have been there. I hope the team, Spikes, and Conehead can find it in their collective hearts to forgive me. I'll be back after the wedding boys.

Sorry Euroguy and Soccer Fan. I gave your game my best effort. I tried to like it. I tried to watch it. For my efforts I got what I deserved. Boredom and a sporting event with no outcome. I should have known better. Sorry guys, but my Anti-Soccer takes will continue!

My assessment -

01 June 2006

The Art of Heckling

With summer getting into full swing, baseball takes over as a top priority in my life. Sure I'm getting married to a wonderful woman in a few weeks, but its all about baseball now. My beloved NY Mets (or scumbags depending on how the game is going) are in first place despite having more injuries that Steve Howe had trips to the Betty Ford Clinic. The local Triple AAA team is contending for first place and going to the yard is always a pleasure. I've hit up about 7 games or so this year if not a couple more. Good friends, good times, expensive beer. Nothing beats the ballpark!

A staple of any sporting event (especially in baseball) are the handful of Hecklers that you can usually find in the yard. I am proud to consider myself one of them. Nothing fires me up more than raring back and firing off a fulminating attack on an unsuspecting player (or team mascot) while my fiancée slumps in her seat or attempts to stifle my boisterous creativity.
Believe it or not, there is an art to heckling. If you are going to heckle, you have to do it in an manner that doesn't annoy those sitting in your area. You cannot fire off round after round of the same ole weak smack that was being said by your great grand-pappy around the turn of the century…the 20th century that is. You have to bring a uniqueness too it. You have to be able to make those around you laugh and get into the heckling as well. Maybe even getting them to partake in hurling comments right along side you (this works in your favor should you strike a nerve with a player as you can casually point out your new heckling brethren as the one who crossed the line).

My personal approach to heckling is to attack the home town players that pretty much suck…or always seem to do shitty when I'm at the game. This tradition started a couple years ago with a former Rochester Red Wing named Michael Restovich. Back then he was a fairly decent slugger for the Wings. Lead the team in round trippers, but every time I saw him play, he struck out, grounded out, or popped out. I saw him hit just one home run, but the bases were empty. Because of his futility, I dubbed him Rally Killer Restovich. Here is a picture of the Rally Killer getting props from a teammate for grounding out instead of yet another whiff.

The Rally Killer is no longer with the Red Wings, however last year his replacement developed. Wings third basemen Terry Tiffee. Like the last name isn't enough to make you want to pile on him, but his ability to come up big and strikeout or end the inning in the middle of any Red Wing rally quickly positioned him a top my list of players to pile on. Add to this his shoddy defense and we have a complete player…to heckle. I mean hell, management should issue flak jackets and police riot shields to all fans sitting behind First Base when Tiffee is playing Third. I've seen a Russian Rocket with a busted guidance system be more accurate than Tif-man's throws to first. Earlier this year I was all over Tiffee while he was having a particularly rough game. I was in the first row behind home plate and he was hearing me. To his credit, he was seen laughing a few times. Unfortunately the next game I attended, Tiffee busted out like a bad case of Herpes. Dude had 3 hits including a homer. A few R.B.I.s and actually played good defense. A sad night indeed. However, when one player goes down, another player always steps in. In this case, it was Wings First Base-windmill Garrett Jones! He is the Wings preeminent power hitter. I mean he did lead the Twins Farm System last year with a whopping 22 home runs. 22? Are you serious? Mix in a trip to Balco. Throw on some cream and clear then claim you had no idea what it was and get us a few extra bombs. Maybe Tiffee can slam your ass with an injection of beefriods to help you out. I would never advocate the use of steroids and I hate what they have done to the greatest game on earth, but something has to help the big K here. Maybe I'm going about it in the wrong way. Maybe he needs some lasic surgery. Perhaps a pair of Rick "Wild Thing" Vaughn glasses would help out his cause. Either way this guy sucks more than a Llyle ave prostitute…so I've heard anyway. Enjoy the grills of Tiffee and G-Jones so the next time you hit up a Red Wings Game, you will know who to heckle…



My favorite home town target is the Mascot - Spikes. I mean take a look at this guy...

While I admit it’s a fairly cool looking Mascot costume…look hard and tell me this guy isn't being put on he field for the sole purpose to entertain the little kids…and to get cracked on. A couple years ago during a double header with the Norfolk Tides, I'd been swilling beers with my good friends Scott "Kurt Warner" Norris and Mark "Doesn't get Laid" Tichneor when during the second games 7th inning stretch I started cracking on Spikes as he did some shit on top of the dugout right in front of us. Through glazed over eyes, he comes up to me and puts out his hand. I go to give him 5 and the bastard pulls his had away. First off, did he just diss me like that? What is this, 4th grade playground disses? And 2.) I can’t believe I fell for it. At that point, I proceeded to call him a "mother fu". That’s right sports fans, I checked my swing. According to Mark I didn't and I indeed called him a "mother fucker". One of the greatest moments I've had at a ballpark. From that night on, Spikes is always in my crosshairs. Earlier this year during a Norfolk Tides Series, I endeared myself to him by telling him that the Norfolk Mascot was a lot better than he was. Spikes now remembers me no matter what game I'm at. Credit to the clown in the costume though, he rolls with it nicely.

I called this guy a "Mother Fucker" … allegedly.

You might ask yourself why do I make fun of the Hometown players? Well, because I like too. And a lot more times than not, fellow spectators respond favorably to my heckling. Why? Because its based on truth. If Garrett Jones sucks, and I call him out, its true. If I do it creatively, then it gets a good reaction that usually leads to others piling on him as well. I never heckle the players that are doing well. Like I said, even when Tiffee stopped sucking for a game, I laid off of him.

I do jump on opposing teams and players as well. For no apparent reason I spent the better part of a game or two lambasting the Norfolk Tides 3rd base coach a couple years back. His crime? Standing there I guess. Perhaps my favorite target is Eli Whiteside of the Ottawa Lynx. Last year was the first year me and my buddy Mark saw him play. What makes him a target you might ask? Well, it’s the grey curly mud flap he had hanging out of his helmet that did it for us. Dude makes a 1986 Gary Carter look like a bald Michael Jordan. Dude would give Mike Brady (R.I.P.) wet dreams with the perm hanging out on the back of his neck. Hell, even Barry Melrose admired this guy's Tennessee Top Hat. That was all we needed to be locked into this guy. Mark, Brenna and I saw him play this year and it was even better. Sitting close again, Mark and I were sure to let him know what we thought of that Mullet! Again Brenna tried to stifle my commentary but I cannot be held down!

Here is my boy Eli signing autographs. His top hat is relatively tame here, but imagine this badboy in the heat and humidity of summer after playing a few innings! Hey Now!

My Heckling experiences are not relegated to just minor league parks. However, when taking your game to the big show, you have to be very careful on how you go about things. You're in the Major's now, so you have to step it up. Even the best Minor League Smack might not be passable at Yankee Stadium, PNC Park, Dodger Stadium, Busch Stadium or Shea Stadium. If you're gonna bring it to one of these parks, then you have to dust off your blue-ribbon smack.

I have gotten loose at a MLB game only 3 times. One in Detroit, and twice in Philadelphia - Home of some of the most notorious fans around. A few years back, I made the roadie to Philly where I met up with a fellow Mets Fan who made the roadie from Long Island. We had tickets for the Mets V. Phils game that night and the next day. After throwing down a 6 pack of Corona, we headed off to the Vet. Now, to set this up, this was around 2002 or 2003 (I forget), August and it was hot. It was also the time when the NY Mets "revamped" their World Series lineup with high priced veterans and proceeded to go in the toilet. Such winners and Mo Vaughn and Jeremy Burnitz polluted the roster and the field with their "talent". Me and my buddy don the Mets gear and head off to the park. Philly fan is already on us, wishing us dead and other cheerful backhanded compliments. Having a few beers in us already, and the 24 ouncers going down extremely fast we soon turned our attention to how bad the Mets were sucking. A well placed error and futility at the plate (and copious amounts of beer) had us turning on our favorite team. The first target was Mo Vaughn. Me and my buddy were all over this guy and we erupted when Big Mo got a single and made the turn to second base and promptly wiped out. I know the U.S. Geological Survey was startled as their machines started going haywire registering his fat ass leaving an impact crater in the baseline a quarter of the way to second. This smack talk endeared us to Philly Fan. The same fans who have booed Mike Schmidt, Santa Clause, and cheered when Michael Ervin lied motionless on the field after a neck injury. One Philly fan expressed concern about the quantity of beer we were consuming and if we were driving. Luckily the hotel was only a half mile away or so, so we walked there. As the game dragged on, Lee and I moved from our close seats near first base to some empty seats along the right field like where we proceeded to ruin Jeremy "The Human Windmill" Burnitz's night. As it was late in the game, there were not too many fans left, so this heckling was for our pure amusement. After the game, we walked back to the hotel where Lee proceeded to ask Apu behind the desk where "all the sluts were". The guy gave us a street name and we hailed a cab and were off. Met some cool people, ended up in a black club chillin…until it was raided and we had to sneak errrrrr stagger out. We were both in bad shape, especially me, but that’s another story.

The following day, Lee had to head back to L.I. but I was going to stay and check out that days game. After something to eat, he dropped me off at the Vet and was on his way. I'm hung over like Billy Martin after an extra inning game, its in the high 90's and humid, and I'm sporting my heavy "authentic" Roberto Alomar Jersey. I scalp an extra ticket for more beer money and enter the stadium. I'm sitting in the very first row, dead center field. Its fucking hot. The sun is beating down on my drunk ass, and I can't even enjoy the game, much less the beers I am trying to throw down. It was so bad that I even went and dropped 8 bones for 2 20 oz. bottles of Dasani Water. Once I got a little hydrated it was on. The Mets were sucking as usual, and I was starting to feel it. Mo Vaughn is out of ear shot, and the Center Fielder who was right there was playing fairly well and was very fan friendly to the punk ass Philly kids, so I gave him a pass. However over in right field was Jeremy Burnitz. Dude was working on the Golden Sombrero for strikeouts and I just couldn't take it. When the Mets took the field in the 4th inning or so, I headed over to right field where I proceeded to lambaste The Windmill. There were plenty of seats available, so I wasn't putting anyone out. Every inning I did this. By about the 7th or 8th, one Philly Fan finally got pissed and started yelling "Why the fuck is he coming over here?" Other Philly Fan told him to shut up and watch. Once again I lit Burnitz up and the best reactions had were when he would turn around and see that a Mets Fan was killing him. I had earned Philly Fan's respect. One bought me a beer and they told me to stay in their area. I brought my a-game that day and made a few new friends in the heckling process.

My other big league experience in heckling happened in Detroit's beautiful new Comerica Park. My buddy Scott and I made the roadie to D-Town for a Jim Rome Tour Stop, but the night before, we met up with another guy and took in a Tigers V. Royals Game. This was the year that the Tigers were pushing to break the '62 Mets record for fewest wins in a season. Being a Mets fan, I was all for getting the Mets off the snide. I threw on the Mets Jersey and off to Comerica we go. I do have to say, that this was my most enjoyable MLB game ever. Sitting very close to the field in-between Home and First. For the first few innings (and once again, the 32 oz. beers were flowing like Niagara Falls), I was all over the Tigers cheering for the Royals and rooting for the Tigers to continue to lose all season long to get my beloved Mets off the snide as having the worst single season record in baseball. The more I heckled, the more the people around us started laughing. They started giving me crap back and it turned into the best time I've ever had at a ball park. There were probably 30 people over 3 rows all interacting with each other, buying beers, laughing, having a great time. Detroit will always get props from me just based on this one time.

Remember, if you're going to heckle, the key is not to be an asshole in doing so. That’s usually a challenge for most people. Especially when its college night/day at the ballpark. Pick your moments/victims. Get your friends involved and if you're good, you'll get other people involved as well. And always remember….the easiest target is the mascot. It’s a good place to start and hone your heckle delivery. And even if you suck, you're still at the ballpark. Grab a dog, a beer and enjoy!

Brenna playing grabass with Spikes.