I didn’t experience any of last night’s monstrosity. I don’t know if this makes me a bad fan or what, but lately I’ve found myself missing a lot of games. I’ll just say that much of this has to do with the fact that they were on the West Coast. But last night I went to see the Breeders at Webster Hall, and therefore had more important things to do.
Before the show, I was home with my friend George as we ate Mexican food and sat in my now air-conditioned room. I did do some scoreboard watching and saw that the Mets jumped to a 5-1 lead. Weee!!, I thought, and we headed over to Webster Hall.
While waiting for the Breeders to come on stage, I checked the score on my phone and saw it was 5-3. George asked the score and I showed to him, grimacing.
The Breeders were awesome. Maybe one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. And then it was almost ruined by a bunch of yahoos behind us who kept screaming ridiculous things (like “I Just Wanna Hit A Bong,” oh ho ho what clever wit you have there my friend) as well as screaming along to every song. Now, singing along is fine, but when I CANNOT HEAR THE SINGER ON STAGE then please kindly shut the fuck up. Especially when it’s a ballad. No one wants to hear your off-key caterwauling, douche.
When the show was over I see the culprits: a trio of 19 year old college bros, one of whom was wearing a Jeter t-shirt. What a goddam surprise.
Yankee fans: ruiners of everything you enjoy.
After the show, George asked who won the game. I said, “Eh, they probably lost.” I really hate being right sometimes.