My wife Whitney and I traveled Friday from our secure east coast compound across Alligator Alley to the wilds of Ft. Myers to observe our beloved Yankees in "action." Here's my report:
The area is a bit backward, I realized, when I saw a group of girls perched outside the oddly named Pubic's supermarket, selling Girl Scout cookies. They looked like extras in Deliverance. Just a little redneck-y or maybe it was the banjos.
The Yanks played the Minneapolis Twins. I didn’t see too many actual twins there but ran into some triplets after the game who must have recognized me from this blog as they were intent on having a date (they said), though they were probably fraternal triplets, as one of them was a bit lighter-complected than the others. And had an Adam’s apple.
The Twins stadium was nice. The crowd was announced as a sellout and attendance was just under 8,000 so it was cozy. The Wifi in the park worked and that was good as I spotted our pal, Pete Abe in the press box sitting right above Catwoman (I think). I had my pocket MacPus with me and we exchanged pithy e-mail messages, though neither of us attempted a face-to-face encounter due to various issues, none of which had anything to do with our disastrous guest outing on his blog in January, I assure you. (For a second, I considered live-blogging the game, but then I remembered that I had a life, so didn’t.)
The cuisine at the stadium was adequate. I was unable to locate any Hebrew National franks (or any Hebrews, for that matter) but the bratwurst was quite good. Hot, too. Would have been perfect except for the sauerkraut, which was cold and the mustard, which was yellow and not brown. I passed on the local brew, as I’d walked into the park with a cold Yeungling stuck down my pants… and a beer, too. Whitney, who hasn't eaten solid food since 1989, searched in vain for a Chardonnay. Alas!
Two doughy Minnesotans sat in front of me and were so darned nice that I almost didn’t have the heart to spit my sunflower seed shells all over their cute faux-jerseys but I resisted the temptation to desist. Besides, their pasty faces and thick arms were turning a deep shade of clotted pink from sitting in the hot sun, so I’m sure the wet shells were refreshing.
A few celebrities were in attendance including Mario Batali and/or Greg Allman. I thought I'd spotted She-Fan in the Men's room, but no; wrong eyebrows.
The anthem was sung by some white woman and was undistinguished in that maddeningly bland way that only Caucasians can achieve.
IPK pitched the first two innings followed by several fellows with unfamiliar names. Many superstars were absent. Arod must have been hanging with his cousin, Jeet might have been trying on his Minka coat and Texeira wasn’t around either, I think. CC was blogging, I guess or maybe bowling with Joba and Kei.
Jorgie was the DH and smashed a couple of hits and was replaced by a non-Arod fellow named Rodriguez, who ran for him. I read later that Brett Gardner got a couple of hits, too. Good for him!
I checked my e-mail between innings and learned that my wife had been wilting under the rays of that hot Florida sun so had adjourned to the "concourse" to practice thumb pumps on her Crackberry. Imagine that! I no longer had to ignore her since she wasn’t there!
All in all, it was an exciting and tremendous game and I was quite happy to be there. I'll return to that stadium for their next outing against our Yanks on March 20th, so if you’re planning to attend, let me know so you can bring the brown mustard and hot sauerkraut. And you can buy the beer, too.
Peace out!
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