Noise

As soon as I saw the email stating a friend had some tickets to the Brewers game yesterday, I eagerly replied I was in. Having "watched" the first game at work via computer, I jumped at the chance to catch game 2.

I love going to baseball games. It is one of the world's most perfect events. There is multi levels of socializing going on at all times. Whether you are just drinking and relaxing, shooting the shit with friends, debating whether it is smart for the pitcher to still try to lay down a bunt with 2 strikes, or oggling the chicks a level below you, it is the one spot where you can cheer wildly for your team and jump right back into the conversation you had with your friends the next.

The view we had of the field was fantastic. Right behind the dugout, first row of the Loge level. You see everything except the right field corner (so of course one of the exciting catches of the game would be in that blind spot). Everything was set for a good night of baseball.

Until the kid started.
Let's go Brew-wahs!
Let's go Brew-wahs!
Let's go Brew-wahs!

It was like a friggin' bullhorn.
Strike him out, strike him out, strike him out!

Shit! I don't know if I can handle 9 hours of this fat little Pugsly looking bastard bellowing out for every single batter. I can't fault the kid for his enthusiasm, but every batter, for every inning? I wondered if I could get him to yell for the beer guy. You know, put his loud mouth to good use for once.

I didn't mind trumpet guy below us. Yeah, some guy brings him trumpet, cranks out his tune and everyone yells CHARGE! Though I wouldn't want to be his sidekick who does nothing but hold the sign. That dude needs to get a shirt that fits.

Though Pugsly kept bellowing- with a short break in the 7th and 8th as he got tired- the game itself was good. Capuano didn't have his best stuff but the bats kept him in the game. Just enough for the bullpen to take over. Turnblow came in and pitched a solid 8th, getting a nasty K with a 95 mph fastball, and CoCo finished it off in the 9th with his own heat. A clutch home run by Kevin Mench (I hate that name) was the offense needed to win by one run.

After Coco struck out the first batter in the top of the 9th, I couldn't help but notice they played his music. They had never done that before. Music was always reserved for the home team coming to the plate or when a reliever comes in. This was different. Get the strikeout and you heard "Click click Boom!" I am not sure if the sound guy screwed up or if they will do it all year. Hopefully, it is the latter.

Time to do the work thing. Hopefully it doesn't snow today.