Major League Hurler

Sunday here in Hollywood it’s raining so relentlessly I give up at lunch time and wander over to The Liquor and Rubber Balls Sports Bar and 1-Hour Martinizing to watch the Phillies/Marlins game.  Don Tequila, tending bar this afternoon, draws me a Grolsch.  Have you tasted Grolsch on tap?  It’s as smooth, refreshing, and savory as the poontang from the Goddess of Hops herself.  Whom I know personally.  Intimately.

My mere arrival makes the day for Lu Senz,  former Chicago sportswriter.

“Hey, Squatzer,” she greets me ‘way too loudly.  “Got the inside dope for us on what classy fans you got up there in the City of Bodily Harm?”

She means “Pukemon,” the South Jersey Shlub Extraordinaire who intentionally vomited on a 12 year old girl sitting in front of him at a Phillies game last Wednesday.  In a town fairly characterized as the breeding ground for thuggish fans whose boorish behavior rivals that of soccer hooligans (if not terrorists), this incident singularly stands out for  inspiring widespread national outrage.

Nice to see you again, too, Lu.  Say – how ‘bout dem Cubbies?  Soriano batting his weight yet?

“Any team can have a bad century,” she says.  “But in 101 years since the Cub’s last World Series championship, there have been exactly zero cases of fans getting arrested for intentionally barfing on other fans.”

Well, we Phillies fans have strong feelings, I guess.  Besides, if you’ve followed the Phillies over their 127 year history, you’ll see plenty of reasons to puke.  Like the major league leading 10,000 total losses and 23 game losing streak.  The mystery is why this happens as infrequently as it does.

“Ancient history, Squatzo. The Phillies are on an amazing roll — the team to beat for the last 5 years.  You wanted to blow chunks at the ball park, you missed your era.”

Besides, it’s all a misunderstanding.  The guy  was a massage therapist.  He thought they asked him to to Rolfe  them.   So he Rolfed them.

“If it was my kid,” chimes in Don Tequila, “that sick puppy would still be trying to pry his head out of his ass where I stuffed it.  Make him spew his eyeballs into his own intestines and shit out what’s  left of his brains.”

Lovely image, Don.   Yo, what happened to the pretzels and hard boiled eggs on the bar?   Now I’m hungry.

By the end of the afternoon, I’m the one who feels like puking.  My team is shut out at home and drop the 3-game series to the Miserable Marlins– they score one run in two games and send the fans home muttering.  Of course, it could have been the hard-boiled eggs (with Tabasco) and the pretzels and mustard, too.  And the glorious foaming poontang of the gods.

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7 Responses to Major League Hurler

  1. ya'gotta'guessit says:

    The complainant is an Easton, PA police *captain* of all things, attending the game with his 15 year-old daughter, and her younger sister.

    Cherry Hill Maul had been pestering the group since their arrival with the profane and obnoxious behavior that usually accompanies a 1% alcohol level – it’s a miracle that the cop didn’t kill that fat bastard.

    We have season seats, and have rarely encountered more than the occasional drunken kid – the days of Veterans Stadium are long gone, and with every game a sellout, the Phillies simply don’t put up with this kind of shit, anymore.

  2. Mumblety Peg says:

    Men are such pigs.

  3. Donovan McNabb says:

    What’s the big deal? Lots of people blow chunks during ball games. Only a few of us ever get caught on camera, but it happens all the time.

  4. Borkon says:

    Was a time when folks got so out of control the city set up a courtoom at the stadium — unruly fans were arrested, hauled in fromt of a judge, and sentenced on the spot. This was back in Veterans Stadium. Some days I saw better action in the stands than on the playing field. But I don’t miss those days at all and neither does 99.9% of the city. Go Phillies.

  5. Old Timer says:

    That bar really has hard boiled eggs on display? I haven’t seen that in years — they used to be a dime each at the German bar I hung out in when I lived in Cincinnati. Mustard, Worcestershire, wine vinegar, horse radish along with salt and pepper. Pickles, too, and onions, some kind of cole slaw or saurkraut. Big fat salty pretzels, not these wimpy little crunchy things you see tofay. Wash all that down with a couple tall ones and a rainy afternoon goes by in no time.

  6. guido says:

    You’re just a sore loser. BTW, tell Don the next time he lets eat hardboiled eggs with draft beers you’re sleeping with him….see how he likes gasping for air all night long.

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