Before I begin today's front page article, I would like to point out I am now officially a criminal on the run from the law. I like to consider myself an Internet rebel, the equivalent of James Dean if he had awful hair and a complete lack of personal hygiene and no charisma and sat in a filthy chair using the Internet to type variations of "LOL" all day. Sometimes I like pushing the boundaries of the law a bit, just to see how much I can get away with before "the man" starts banging down my door and demanding I refinance the mortgage on my house while purchasing some mystery drug which simultaneously decreases my body weight while increasing my penis size. However, I never possessed the nerve to perform such an outrageous, unbelievable, opprobrious act as I did today. From this day forth I shall forever be known as a fugitive, for I have committed the unspeakable:
I HAVE REPRODUCED SEGMENTS OF A MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL GAME WITHOUT EXPRESSED WRITTEN CONSENT FROM THE OFFICE OF THE COMMISSIONER OF MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL.
Ladies and gentlemen, please join me on a joyride of jolliness and jail time as I present to you an exotic, illegal Major League Baseball reproduction which was in no way, shape, or form approved by the Commissioner of Major League Baseball, whoever the hell he is. I have no doubt that if the mysterious, shadowy Commissioner learned of this article's existence he would undoubtedly smite me with his infernal Major League Baseball black magic, erasing my existence from this very planet, but these are the kinds of risks I'm willing to take as an Internet rebel.
SATURDAY, JUNE 5TH: THE KANSAS CITY ROYALS VS. THE BOSTON RED SOX - AN UNAUTHORIZED REPRODUCTION
A completely unauthorized reproduction of a Major League Baseball game segment! THIS IS TOO HOT FOR TV!
Up until today, I had somehow lucked out and failed to attend a single Royals game this year, possibly because my baseball apathy would transform into a concrete, sentient form which blocked the door whenever I seriously considered going. My willpower caved in and I finally agreed to head over to Kauffman Stadium today with my girlfriend so we could watch the Royals invariably lose to whatever team decided to show up for a few hours. I guess the Red Sox had plane tickets to Kansas City for this particular weekend, but I'm sure the Royals would have no problems agreeing to lose against some local minor league tennis teams or groups of kids on church picnics. In keeping with my baseball pre game strategy, I began drinking as soon as I entered the stadium. Alcohol isn't required to successfully watch an entire baseball game, but it is required to successfully not watch an entire baseball game, and that was the angle I was going with on this fateful evening.
INNING 1: The Royals got off to an exciting start, deciding to let the second Red Sox batter hit a home run. The crowd honestly seemed to approve of this action, possibly because out of the 29,968 people attending the game, 29,966 of them were Red Sox fans. The other two people were parents of the Royals' pinch hitter. Kansas City's ace pitching legend Darrel May was in charge of letting the opposing team hit home runs off him for the day, and the Red Sox immediately took advantage of this, causing his ERA to skyrocket from around 58.382 to some 12-digit number which won't fit in most modern databases. Somebody from the Royals decided to hit a home run too, but his home run was only worth one point whereas the Red Sox home run was worth two. I would claim this was due to racism, but I cannot remember the skin color of anybody involved in the incident.
SCORE: Red Sox 2, Royals 1
INNING 2: My girlfriend's brother's girlfriend's five-year old daughter was sitting in the same row as my girlfriend and I, and the child began repeatedly smacking my leg at the top of this inning. I have now dubbed inning two as "The Second Inning Smack." The kid thought slapping me over and over was just the pinnacle of hilarity, and since I was afraid of getting into a fist fight with her (she would win), I sat there and pretended to laugh while my leg turned a bright shade of red. If you don't believe me, check out this proof of my unashamedly pasty thigh:
That kid slaps hard. A player for the Red Sox named "Kevin Youkilis" went up to bat this inning, and his last name is really funny because if you kind of squint while reading it, you might think it says something completely different like "Kevin Fuckface." I don't remember if Kevin Fuckface hit a home run this inning, but I'm pretty sure he didn't because I would've written it down on my notepad if he did. I wrote down everything important on one piece of scrap paper so I could more effectively reproduce segments of this Major League Baseball Game without expressed written consent from the office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball. For example, on the top of this page I have the phrase "(something illegible) from the (something else illegible) beer drinking (something scratched out with a pen)." Case closed, your honor!This is the kid who was slapping me. If you see her, run away or maybe preemptively slap her first.
SCORE: Red Sox 2, Royals 1
INNING 3: Somebody else hit a home run. I didn't write down what team they were on, but you can safely assume it was either the Red Sox or perhaps one of the umpires because it sure as hell wasn't the Royals. I noticed that whenever I go to a baseball game, no matter what town it is in and no matter what time of the year it takes place, I see random white fuzzy things floating around the air. They aren't bugs, trash, or plant spores, and they don't always obey the laws of physics by floating downwards. I think they are those alien puffy things from the end boss level of Contra which could fly through the ground and kill you in a particularly annoying fashion. I noticed there were not one, but TWO Mike Sweeneys sitting in the row in front of me, both of them under the age of 10. I guess I should probably point out that I noticed this after returning with beer number three, which was also served to me by a Mike Sweeney although he was black and female in that case.
SCORE: Red Sox 4, Royals 1(?)
INNING 4: Johnny Damon went up to bat and they showed his photo on the big screen. He looks like a trucker who ran out of clothing and was given a Red Sox uniform by a good Samaritan. He also looks like Dennis Miller. These two thoughts cannot be combined into one sentence because that's not how I wrote them down on my notepad. I also noted that Matt Stairs resembles "a shaved Ewok." I shouted "hit a home run for Endor, Matt!" and the people around me just kind of glared in my direction, perhaps because they sided with the Empire on the issue of Endor's Death Star construction. I hate it when petty politics ruin a pleasant evening at the ball park. I don't think I need to mention Boston scored at least one run in this inning, although I don't exactly recall how and in what fashion. I think the Royals signed a contract with Boston agreeing to give them $100,000 if they would automatically add just one point to their score that inning and then let KC bat.The stands were full of Mike Sweeneys this particular day. Oh Mike, those youthful good looks will get you everywhere my friend!
SCORE: Red Sox 8, Royals 1
INNING 5: After starting beer number four (I think), I realized that baseball games never truly end, they just stop. Baseball is some kind of otherworldly, eternal phenomenon which cannot be stopped by any mere act of man or nature, and its games just go on and on and on. Now that I read that statement again, I am convinced that I had to be on at least beer number seven at the time because I have no idea what I was attempting to say there. I'm sure I found it terribly funny and witty and felt as if other people would express similar sentiments if they read it, so just do me a favor and pretend I'm terribly funny and witty. Somebody from some team (the Red Sox) hit another home run this inning, and despite all these home runs and hits for the opposing team, the Royals continued to let their starter, Darrel May, throw balls for the Red Sox to swing at. I think Kansas City manager Tony Pena's reasoning behind this could be best summed up with a quote from a recent press conference:
SPORTS WRITER: "Tony, why do you let your starting pitchers continue to play even after they give up 20 consecutive runs in an inning?"
TONY PENA: (Clutching a dead chicken in his mouth and throwing oranges at a chalkboard) "¡ESTOY LOCO, COMO HORMIGAS!" (Lights self on fire and jumps out window)
The Royal's former All-Star catcher Benito Santiago tried to get a hit in this inning but failed because he is about ten million years old and had all the cartilage in his knees replaced with Laffy Taffy decades ago. Also I suspect somebody used his face to catch high multiple velocity sniper rounds.
SCORE: Red Sox 12, Royals 2
INNING 6: The Jumbotron advertised some wonderful Royals package deal dubbed "The Royals Blue Crew," which offered two Royals tickets, an AMC movie pass, a dozen Krispy Kreme donuts, and various other forms of bribery for the low price of $15. I remarked to my girlfriend Megan that they should include two prescriptions of Prozac in the package so the people getting morbidly obese chewing their Krispy Kreme donuts while watching the Royals lose won't experience chronic depression. She didn't hear me so I repeated it in a much louder tone of voice. According to my notes, Mark Bellhorn looks like Rob Schneider. Also according to my notes, "Brian Anderson." That's all my notes say about him, so I'm afraid I can't go into much more detail on this particular topic, which I assume is undoubtedly for the best.Bellhorn.
SCORE: Red Sox 35, Royals 0
INNING 7: I commented to my girlfriend that the Royals should just trade Mike Sweeney to the Red Sox in the middle of the game. They could sign some papers and the Boston GM, Theo Epstein, could hand KC a big bag of cash and a Red Sox uniform to Sweeney, who could walk over and instantly begin playing first base for them. My girlfriend remarked, "that's probably the only way the Royals would get somebody on first base." Boston scored one more run in this inning, and through some stroke of luck and / or magic, KC managed to score twice. If today's entire ball game would've consisted of only the seventh inning, then the Royals would've won. One of the batters for one of the teams hit a foul ball and some dumb kid in the crowd attempted to catch it with his eyes and most of his head. His parents rushed him out of the stands, possibly to the hospital. I don't know what they did with the foul ball. Matt Stairs somehow managed to get on base, despite odds which firmly suggest the opposite should occur. I encouraged Stairs to score a run by shouting, "hey Matt, I'll buy you a free dinner at Stuckey's if you score a run!" I guess he heard me, because somebody else hit the ball in such a fashion that permitted him to reach the home plate. Nothing can stand in between Matt and a plate.
SCORE: Red Sox 207, Royals -2
INNING 8: Decided to leave. I couldn't remember if baseball games last eight or nine innings, but then I realized I didn't care and would never, ever, ever stick around long enough to find out.
FINAL SCORE: Who knows
I hope you enjoyed my highly informative, highly illegal Major League Baseball reproduction which failed to gain the necessary written consent from the office of the Commissioner of Major League Baseball. Thanks to today's update, I am now officially "on the lam," a fugitive of the law attempting to escape capture from the authorities and possibly also Lorenzo Lamas. I have no choice but to purchase an exotic chair and sit in it at incredible speeds, at which point I'll lose control and fly into the side of my Dell PC, dying instantly. I will become an Internet legend and my legacy will live on through colorful emails sent to AOL addresses with the subject line, "FREE LAWN PORN - FIRE YOUR BOSS WITH EBAY - VER.Y CHEA.P V!AGRA." I spit in the face of the law!
When I try to clear the ball, run into me at a thousand miles per hour, sending me flying halfway across the map. If the ball is coming down in front of the opposing goal and I'm in position to tap it in, run into me at a thousand miles per hour. Never stop slamming into me at a thousand miles per hour, unless you can slam into me even faster.
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