Friday, April 14, 2006

Tough life


So I learned how to deal with a**holes when I was pretty young. My folks would let me go down to the ballgame with my friends the summer after 7th grade. Anyway, I was a kid. I usually would go with a good old friend, Konrad David Dick. Good American kids love baseball. We would pack a lunch. We would have some peanuts we would get from home and put it in a bag. We would sneak in cans of soda. Sometimes we would get caught, but not usually. And we would scam tickets or some way to get in. Sometimes we knew adults that had tickets. If not we would find our own. And to do that we hit the street outside of the stadium with the other free agent ticket salesmen. Right where the bus dropped us off. It was a day game during the week in the summer.

"Tickets?

Got tickets?

You got tickets?

How much?"

"20 each."

"Hmm. Where are they?"

"327"

"I will give you fifteen for the pair."

Didn't work the first time, but after the game started, the prices always dropped. We would always go for nosebleeds.

And we would promptly go downstairs. This seemed to be standard operating procedure. We never even questioned if this was what you did. When you go to a game, you get in and try to get the best seat.

Now we wouldn't just run downstairs and run up to the front row. The game had started. We would walk in and wait for an absent minded usher to turn their head. Or when we had some tickets downstairs, we held on to the stubs from old games and just flashed them to the ushers. I am sure this is a game that has been a tradition in baseball as long as there has been ticket admission. Kids trying to figure a way in to the game.

We would then find seats that are unoccupied. The attendance was only okay, so it ws pretty easy to get downstairs. And despite what people think, there are always empty seats at a game.

We were over by the Cardinal's bullpen when it was along third base. So I start getting jeered at a game. Konrad laughed. I was wearing my Cubs hat. It was a Cardinal fan. He started to yell out at me. A couple of people laughed. It was some drunk old guy. I sort of smiled out of uneasiness. No big deal. It went on for about a half inning. He was about two or three rows behind me.

So this guy decides to come up to me. I was kid in gradeschool. And he starts to jeer at me. I didn't say anything back, for I had no idea what to say. I was there to watch the game. It wasn't even a Cubs and Cardinals game. The guy was more just drunk. So I turn around to watch the game and the guy snatches my hat. I yell at him for a second. Some old drunk guy snatched my hat. There was no usher around. Besides, they wouldn't do anything anyway. I was wearing a Cubs hat. And then I decide to let it go. It was my hat and all, but what was I supposed to do? Go kick his ass? I was 12 and he was a grown man. And he was wasted. I wasn't going to get a cop over this. I would have looked like a pansy little whiner. So I scowled at him asked him to give the hat back again. He laughed. So I turned around and watched the game. Oh well. I could get another hat. I had a job.

So after about another two outs later, he eventually gave the hat back through someone else. So stupid. I barely acknowleged the hat. I didn't even stop from watching the game. So stupid. It was just a hat.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

You got off lucky, I wore a ski hat in Viking's purple, at Lambeau, it didn't even have a frickin' viking on it, and a mob of cheeseheads put my girlfriend and I in a figure four leg lock into a Boston Crab followed by noogies and a pink belly...we had to tap out and give up the hat. Will all this hooliganism ever stop?

1:30 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wow Steve, you wore bad hats back then to?

3:00 PM  

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