A Day at the Park

(Disclaimer: I think that the San Francisco Giants, fans, players and organization, are in general class acts and I have the utmost respect for most of them, but this just has to be said) 

This may shock some of you, but someone let the founder and general of this rotting vessel we call The Riot! have a child or two.  It's true, anyone can be a parent.  Being a good parent has a whole different set of criteria, and often times I meet them, so there's the good news. Then there are other degenerate s**td**ks out there who should have their reproductive organs amputated for fear that they will reproduce. I know they exist because I spent yesterday with a whole group of them at AT&T Park during the Giants-Indians game. 

First, the good. My 3 year-old son received two tickets to a Giants game for his birthday on Friday from my wife's friend.  They were amazing seats (thank you so much Laraine). Anyway, we met some very cool people on the way in who were excited about Ben's, first pro ball game. I had not been to a Giants game before, but I have always held the Giants fans in high regard, and in the beginning they did not disappoint. The stadium is amazing, one of the best I've seen. I've been there before for a Fan Fest, but never during a game day; it had a much different feel and it was very cool. Then a very friendly lady helped me balance a 3-year old and two uncovered drinks down the steps to our field-level box seats (thanks again Laraine) where we settled in for the game. This is where all the good ended.  Let me just say that the following incidents were isolated and I'm sure do not reflect badly on the Giants fan as a whole; they just really pissed me off.  I went over to change a diaper and there was no changing table in the men's room.  It had been damaged and I needed to find another one.  So I went around the corner and saw a "Family Restroom."  Now, when you see the sign that says "Family Restroom" and it has a picture of a baby on it; does that translate to "Private Restroom?" Apparently in AT&T Park it does.  There was a line of roughly 10 people waiting to use the "Family Restroom." I know what you're thinking --"It's a sold out stadium so waiting in line for a restroom is nothing new," and normally I would agree but here's the problem; nobody was holding a child, or even standing next to one for that matter!  So I was thinking these selfish asses would let me go ahead, given that I was holding a squirmy 3-year old whose dream in life to that point was to see the Giants play, and he was missing some of it because some of these A*Holes were nervous goers, but NO! not on this day. I was annoyed to say the least.  (A side note here, my wife, who has Crohn's disease, let me know that sometimes people with Crone's or IBS need a private restroom if they are experiencing flare-ups. So to those who were legitimately in need of a private restroom, we're cool; but to the rest I hope your next s**t is square.) So 30 minutes and half an inning went by while I was staring at the back of some half-witted teenager who was standing in the "Family" line for the bathroom rambling on about whether Tim Lincecum actually smokes weed. We should've taken a urine sample in the "Family Restroom" from that kid; that might tell the story of that conversation. Then back to our seats, and all was well for a while.  Maybe I'm being bitchy about the "Family Restroom" thing, but the next incident that's coming around the bend really sent me into full-on New Yorker mode.  But before that, a word about the game experience with a 3-year-old.  Benny had an awesome time for about 4 innings and then the 3-year-old restlessness set in. He started to fidget and accidentally hit people in the back of the head, which those people were cool with and Ben apologized for, but around the 5th inning we took a break.  At the end of the game they were letting kids run the bases at AT&T Park, which would be amazing for a kid who thinks every nice looking patch of grass is a baseball field, so i really wanted him to make it through.  So we went for a walk around the park.  As I was walking, I did some selfless promotion.  The Giants had set up an Internet station with about four big screen TV's displaying the webpages people were looking at.  So I decided that the San Fran faithful needed to see The Riot! and they did.  All four screens were donning TSR! proudly and many people stopped and read.

So if you were one of the lucky, welcome aboard. After spending the 6th and 7th innings walking, we returned to our seats with Pretzel in hand, ready to close this baby out.  I have to say I'm shocked that a 3-year-old, without much fighting, made it through a full nine and cheered vigorously to a Giants victory as Affeldt finished off the Tribe by striking out the Shelby Duncan; the16th K of the day for the Gigantes.

Then it was time to head down for the base running exhibition put on by children under 14 (always a treat).  We got on a line that wraps around the whole building, but it was moving rather quickly. After just 30 minutes we got to the gate.  At this point I was in high spirits; Ben and I had had a great evening and now we were going to top it off with  a memorable experience for both myself and my son.  As I was about to enter the field, some "tough guy" comes up with his mullet-sporting boy and unfortunate-looking daughter and cut the line. This usually wouldn't bother me nearly as much because I was having such a good time, but this guy bumped into me and didn't even excuse himself.  Unfortunately I had my 3-year old with me otherwise the full-on New Yorker may have emerged from deep within. So I shook that off and headed to the field behind  Jersey Shore Guido and his two awful-looking spawn.  We got to the starting line of the base running exhibition when this s**td**k stopped his son and gave his mulleted, wheezing bag of boy a pep talk that rivaled Knute Rockne, about "running hard" and "this is your moment." WTF!? Did I stumble onto a Giants tryout field by mistake or was this a fun promotion put on by the team and See's Candies?  I didn't know Tim Sabean, Giants GM, was going to be down on the field signing players after this; I would have prepared myself more for that.  Oh my God, why do we have to put up with these people.  I wish there were Jihadists against douche bags like that.  No, instead they wage "Holy War" against  innocent people while douche bags like this guy put mullets on their poor unknowing kids' heads and then pull this BS. Anyway, Ben ran the bases like a champ and looked completely dumbfounded that he got to be on the field where the "BASEBALL PLAYERS!" get to play (he gets very excited about baseball players).  I have to say a quick thanks and give the Giants' field crew and security credit for making this a very organized and well run event, and not stressing us, the fans, out at all during this process.  I'm sure they were under a fair amount of stress, given that  it was a nationally televised ESPN game, and they need to keep the field preserved for the sake of the next game and so on right?  You can't just have kids wandering the field. So here's the finale of this act-- we were getting off the field.  Parents were not allowed on the field unless they had a very little kid like I did.  So I was walking off the field with Ben and I heard  someone berating a security guy about getting his daughter and that she was scared and that his "family is more important than your "f**king grass."  I turned around and the girl wasn't crying; she was staring at everything like a dumbfounded 8-year old would do. The system was set-up so she couldn't wander off and this guy was acting like someone was about to steal his unfortunate ejaculation from the field. You guessed it, it's the return of wind-pant wearing Jersey Shore wannabe. After berating the security guard (who was remarkably calm and respectful while talking to this ass), he mumbled all the way out of the park.  I followed him just so I can write this piece for you all because you mean that much to me.  So to all you Jersey Shore wannabes who think your children are the best-looking and most talented spawn ever, remember: a mullet is still a mullet, no matter who wears it. And nobody likes you or your kids.
All in all, we had a great time and Ben will remember this day for a very long time, I'm sure.  It's just an interesting thing to note that a kid's experience is way different than yours.  Luckily, our children will not have to deal with inconsiderate people using a bathroom that's not for them or the likes of Mullet-Boy and his greezy, impolite, douche bag father anytime soon; they can just run the bases.