The Philadelphia Phillies have actually won a championship since I have been alive. I don’t think it has actually hit me yet and most likely won’t hit me until the next World Series will be broadcast on national television.
With that being said, there is no better feeling for a sports fan than to go to their ballpark, sit in the stands and take it all in.
Lately, though, two games in two weeks have irked me to no end.
I was 21 once. I know how it is to sit in the parking lot, friends surrounding you with a beer your hand at 4 p.m. when the game starts at 7 p.m.
But what I don’t understand is how the majority of those people can walk in through those gates plastered, not even able to watch the game straight. Let me give you an example.
My friends and I were outside in the parking lot, tailgating, enjoying each other, reminiscing.
Next to us were guys and girls shotgunning beers, timing each other on their watches and trying to fit in as many beers before they were going to walk in at 6:45 p.m.
It wasn’t like I was paying attention to this group of people the entire time, but when the parking lots get crammed, the spaces seem inches away from one another.
I was watching one girl in particular who looked no older than 20 years old and she drank five beers in a matter of an hour. And I know it was five beers because she would yell, “Time for another one!” After five times of hearing her drunken shriek, I was ready to get into the ballpark.
Now, since I don’t get to as many Phillies games as I would like in a season, I put away money for an amazing seat. For this particular game, I was in the “diamond club.”
As I sat down with my Hatfield hot dog my camera ready out to take some great shots, guess who came stumbling down the steps to the row
directly in front of me?
Yes, the same rambunctious group from the parking lot. When I pay nice money for a great seat, fork out $5.25 for a hot dog and $12 for parking, I would expect a rewarding, relaxing time.
No, I did not get this. The ENTIRE game was slobbering chants that no one took part in, constant beer runs and trips to the bathroom since “the seal had been broken.”
Not only did I have the drunken pep squad in front of me, but it was like I had Tom McCarthy and “Wheels” commenting on each pitch thrown.
Baseball is said to be “America’s favorite past time.”
To me, it is beginning to look like America’s biggest money racket and drunk fest.
There is simply no way to enjoy a game and I know if it is happening to me and I am at the ballpark two, maybe three times a season, then it has to be happening to other fans that intend to cheer on their team.
I even thought, what would have happened if it was a family and children in my seats?
Their ears would have been covered due to the constant “f-bombs” flying out of the drunks’ mouths. But what even makes it more uncomfortable is that if I would have said something, I probably would have been the brunt of their joke and felt as if I had to leave myself.
I understand that many of you reading this may take part in these antics all of the time, but seriously, the point of a sporting event is to serve as entertainment to the fan.
This isn’t the place to drink your face off and think it is funny to be a mess inside the gates.
There are bars for that and quite honestly, we are in a recession here. Save your money and stop grinding my gears.
