jennings rampage

Who are you gonna believe? Me or Officer McShades?

DATELINE: Athens, Greece, August 24: A scoring controversy in the men’s gymnastics apparatus finals leads to the crowd delaying the event for ten minutes by whistling and booing American Paul Hamm, who was scheduled to perform next.

DATELINE: Athens, Greece, August 26: Before sweeping the medals in the men’s 200m, the Americans had to endure ten minutes of boos and whistles from a Greek crowd frustrated by the absence of their hometown favorite star, making a fair start to the race very difficult.

DATELINE: Durham, NC, August 26: A bunch of spoiled twenty-something asshats heckled the third baseman and bullpen of the visiting Charlotte Knights. After being hassled by the law, they sat quietly to watch the hometown Bulls win in the tenth.

The great thing about being drunk at a ballpark is everyone is clearly on your side. So everyone was on my side last night as I did my patriotic duty as an American and drank Miller Lite and yelled at minor league baseball players.

It all started when this guy

booted a ball hit his way, and it became clear to us that he represented a defensive shortcoming for the visitors. We capitalized on that by taunting him and setting up residence in his head, in order to play the mental game and make him doubt his instincts and abilities. It’s called baseball, people.

Then we learned his first name was Kelly.

Big mistake on his part. While he handled all the balls hit his way for the rest of the night, he did ground into an inning-ending double play that could have made the difference in a scoreless game. But he didn’t, because his name was Kelly, and we made fun of that fact. Advantage: asshats. At some point, the usher came over and warned Greg about the heckling, and I pretended to ignore him.

It was a very tight game, scoreless through seven. We continued to focus on Kelly, which delighted us immensely, until suddenly, the Knights led off the eighth inning with a solo shot to center. Activity started in the Knights bullpen, which we were strategically seated behind, and the Brown brothers immediately took action, asking, perhaps rhetorically (yet loudly), who was going to save the tight game. Team player that I am, I took action and, with Greg’s assistance with the program, performed a roll call of the reserve pitchers, asking each of them if they were man enough to get the save. The bullpen was all looking back and laughing, which was solid evidence that we were in their heads.

But apparently, this display of home team bias was just too much for the ballpark staff to handle, and an officer of the Durham Police Department arrived at the end of the aisle. “Hey, Boss, follow me for a minute.”

I made the classic drunk manuever of acting very very sober, and tried to recall the advice for dealing with the police that I had read earlier in the week. Johnny Law and the usher confronted me at the end of the ballpark, and the officer gestured to the usher and asked, in that endearing big-bad-fourth-grade-teacher way, “what did this man tell you?”

“I haven’t spoken with this gentleman.”
“He warned the whole row.”

So back and forth we went with “we’re not doing anything wrong” and “be quiet or you’ll be escorted out.” The officer agreed that what we were doing was very funny, but since this was a family establishment, our vulgarity would not be tolerated.

(Vulgarity! Perish the thought. I’d never swear in a ballpark, I’m not completely boorish, I can see the kids. Hell, there was a whole row of Japanese girls in front of us singing the smash hit “Do You Want To Go Out With Me?” So the idea that I’d be swearing in a ballpark is patently absurd, just so we’re clear. Well… perhaps I did call this guy

the “designated fag,” the “left handed dick puller,” and the “utility cocksucker,” but it was all very under-the-breath to Austin.)

So the police officer, exhorting me not to “make this into something bigger than it is,” allowed me to return to my seat for the remainder of the game. Even though these guys

were warming up in the bullpen, I very loudly and obnoxiously kept my mouth shut, inquired where the card catalogue was located, and spoke at length with the Brown brothers via cell phone about our plight. (As it turns out, the Browns also had a talk with the law.)

I decided that I was very interested in getting ejected from the game, but the fates weren’t there for me — the Bulls tied the game in the bottom of the eighth, and my loyalty as a baseball fan prevented me from not seeing the finish of a thriller.

So, to wrap this one up, the Bulls scored on a sacrifice fly in the bottom of the tenth to win the game, 2-1. This guy

lost the game for the Knights — we were in his head. Greg was good enough to grab me by the collar and drag me out of the ballpark as Durham’s finest looked on. And that was the most fun I’ve ever had at a baseball game.

Next year, fuck it, I’m getting ejected.