I went to Wrigley last night and a world-class shellacking broke out. Of course, the moment we chose to get up and get hot dogs was the inning in which the visiting team scored EIGHT runs. I think we caught a couple on the concourse TVs, but didn't realize the immensity of the whole thing 'til we got back up top.
One thing I did NOT miss, however, was this douchebag tossing a VERY full beer onto the Phillies' center fielder just as he was snagging a long, deep fly.
It made it really hard to care about the outcome from that point. This is the time when I'd normally be likely to drown my own self in beer. But I went in last night with the intention of keeping it together. I'm not 25 anymore, and the old "one beer per inning" limit is getting kind of untenable (especially when those beers are 16 ouncers).
And not that my enormous self-control and maturity weren't enough, but it did help, I suppose, that I was seated smack in the middle of a long, long row.
Big me.
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