Happy Monday folks. Rickey is back from an extended weekend spent mostly at Shea Stadium. (That's not a photo of Rickey's seats, the real ones were actually much better--if you're good and eat all your vegtables, Rickey will post them shortly). A quick recap: no, Friday night’s game wasn’t exactly a showcase of athletic prowess, but it did give Rickey and his buddy Adam, the genius behind the Jack Sack, a chance to:
- Become thoroughly inebriated in the parking lot while discussing how Dateline’s “To Catch a Predator” is quite possibly the greatest television show of all time.
- Jump start a group of fans’ car who forgot that when you turn your engine off and blast the radio, it kind of drains your battery. Smart people, these Mets fans…
- Sprint into Shea at ludicrous speed desperately in search of the facilities. Rickey’s liver is still quite pissed at Rickey.
- Somehow lose Rickey’s ticket during the mad dash to the men’s room. And then later recover it on the floor of the concourse!
- Enjoy the rest of the game.
The moral of the story? Like the phrase goes, God watches over drunks and babies. A good time was had by all. And the Saturday game with Ms. Henderson was everything baseball should be:
- A nice warm day (warm enough for poor Ms. Henderson to get sunburned).
- Jose Reyes falling just one triple short of hitting for the cycle. Rickey’s man-crush is complete. Nuff said.
- Oliver Perez exhibiting a fine return to form. Complete with his ridiculously unnecessary hop over the first baseline to start and end each inning! The man is half billy goat, half pitcher, and Rickey absolutely loves it.
- David Wright striking out twice to end the inning. (Then tossing his bat and helmet away in disgust, and wandering into the infield to stare out into nothingness while waiting for someone to fetch his glove for him). I'll give Wright this much credit: he’s really selling the whole “argh, I’m frustrated!” angle of this current slump of his… Great production there David.
- And finally, Shawn Green being Shawn Green. Never smiling, just playing it cool and getting it done in true Judaic fashion. Is “The Hebrew Hammer” currently being used as a nickname for Greenie? If not, this needs to be remedied ASAP. Rickey totally recommends working it into your Mets nicknames rotation whenever the opportunity presents itself.
And that sums up Friday and Saturday. Sunday was spent in NJ helping Ms. Henderson move the remainder of her belongings out of her old Mahwah apartment. Why Ms. Henderson is so attached to stuffed pig dolls wrapped in a blanket is beyond Rickey, but he goes along with it anyway. If she can tolerate his inexplicable need to see the new Transformers movie and occasionally get dressed up like the guy from Halo, then likewise accommodations can be made for a stuffed swine or two in the new apartment. Ah, quid pro quo, the cornerstone of all functional relationships…
After a brief stop by Ms. Henderson’s family’s house (who Rickey has yet to coin witty nicknames for) it was back to Westchester. So Rickey’s kind of tired this morning—hence the lazy summary of his weekend rather than anything amusing or clever. They can’t all be winners folks.
[PS: If anyone has any clue how to make paragraphs with bullets doublespaced, that would be fan freaking tastic. This single spaced nonsense aggrevates Rickey.]