After the dinner. The chum and I went to the White Sox stadium (formerly Comiskey? now US Cellular?) to watch the game with a bunch of other knitters. We sat in bleachers right behind center field. We left at the top of the ninth after the White Sox screwed up and lost the tenuous one point lead they had over the Indians. It seems that in the time it took me to get home, they went into extra innings and ended up winning the game 10-9. My bad. I thought it was over.
Every time a White Sox member hit a home run, fireworks would go off. Every time a White Sox member came to bat, a bit of individualized theme music would play (my favorite player was the one who was accompanied by a song off of Beck's new album).
We ended up surrounded by non-knitters and were pretty miffed about the planning of the event. We did sit next to three Indians fans, it was funny how they would stand up when everyone else was firmly in their seats and vice versa.
I thought I would write a play by play of the game, but it's kind of late and I have too much homework to even think about.
1 comment:
Yes, Tiger Stadium is now comerica park. It is, after all, the great american past time so why wouldn't it be housed by a bank? I like baseball less now that you can't smoke in the bleachers although that is not quite true because I don't think I was ever able to smoke in the bleachers. I imagine, however, that I would like it more if I didn't have to walk six miles to smoke. Sports are for watching while you do bad things to yourself. Doesn't anyone understand that anymore? And as if a wiff of smoke out of doors is any more harmfull than your third ballpark frank and the 42 oz. beer in your hand. Fuckers..... non-smoking bankers, all of them!
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