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Spring Break Training PART I |
Spring Break Training PART II |
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SABRES, PENS, SHOTGUNS & METS |
BILL BUCKNER WAS INNOCENT |
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West Coast Craig
Posts:252
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| 07-06-2008 - SelecP - |
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Frank worked in the bio-tech industry for a few years, but the grunt work—the constant checking and rechecking of other people’s data sheets—got to be too much so he quit and followed his muse. Within days he began working in his garage on his two favorite things, avant garde art and clothing design. Turns out he wasn’t very good at either. His art wasn’t very inspired, and his fashion involved lots and lots of Velcro, mistakenly thinking that buttons and zippers were too antiquated for today’s style. Then, like so many moments of clarity and vision that strike like lightning, Frank had an inspiration that would combine both of his loves…and a ripcord. He got to work designing and sewing a business suit, and a few weeks later, sitting on a park bench, he tried it out. He looked like any other businessman taking an afternoon break on a nice day, and while furtively glancing around, he looped his ripcord around one of the bench slats. Sweat broke out on his palms, his scalp, he started gulping air…then leapt up and ran. The ripcord reached its eight foot length and snapped taught with a riiiiiiiiiiiiiippping sound. The suit vanished from around his naked body. As he raced across the park, his bare feet in the cool grass, the wind across his chest, a liberating sensation overwhelmed Frank and he never felt more alive. He would have to do this again.
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Petey Van Peltier stood with his straw boater over his heart, listening to the National Anthem next to the Bad Usher, who refused to let anybody go to their seats until it was over. Nancy Bea Hefley started playing a jaunty tune, and the players took the field and started throwing the ball around. Up in the stands, all the New York transplants in Los Angeles seemed to be out to root on the Mets. The Diamondvision flashed an image of Jerry Seinfeld, and the Dodger fans showed they were still there by booing. The first beach ball—the ubiquitous 99 Cent Store kind—started its travels around the park, and the Bad Usher shouted some instructions to Petey and the two tried to flank its flight. Petey almost got a hold of it at one point, but it had backspin and rose up just out of his reach, and the surrounding fans cheered at his monkey-in-the-middle act. He just smiled. A little boy two rows down got it and gave it a good bat, and it hung in the air for a moment…until it was speared on the end of the Bad Usher’s knife. It popped and fizzled on the blade, and boos rained down as the Bad Usher held the limp carcass up, sneering triumphantly.
It was the fourth inning when Petey Van Peltier found the Bad Usher up on the top deck. The fans in the crowd had started doing the wave. It had circled twice already and picked up strength. ooooooooooWHOOOOOOOOOHhooooooooo. The Bad Usher had his arms in a sniper position, holding an imaginary rifle. “You know what the trick is?” he said, following the crest of the wave and concentrating like he was getting ready to yell “pull.” He made a firing sound while recoiling his arms. Pshew. “The trick is to lead it.” The Dodgers were winning 5-2, and the Bad Usher was feeling pretty good.
In the seventh inning, though, the Mets started coming back. Carlos Delgado lined a ball into the corner and legged out a double. It knocked in a run, and when he scored two batters later, the Dodgers’ lead was only one. The Bad Usher became agitated. In the bottom half of the inning, the Mets called on Heilman to keep the game close. The Bad Usher allowed a flicker of relief cross his face. Heilman stepped gingerly on the mound and warmed up. Jeff Kent stepped to the plate…and with each pitch the Bad Usher squirmed and growled. Kent smashed a towering fly ball that curled before the foul pole for strike one. He fouled the next one straight back. He watched the third go by for strike three. The low groaning sound Petey had heard coming from Bad Usher’s throat when he first met him returned. The next two Dodgers seemingly refused to take their bats off their shoulders. As James Loney went down looking, the groaning built to a crescendo pitch, then cut off. With wild eyes, the Bad Usher looked around, finally falling on a Met cap.
“I’m going to need to see your tickets.” The family was in the lower left field level, between the foul pole and the bullpen. It was a man and his wife and their four year old decked out in Dodger blue. The dad, who had on the Mets cap, was incredulous. “Really?” The Bad Usher repeated his demand and put on a look of impatience. Petey could see his hand itching towards his belt. “But we’ve had these season tickets for eight years,” he said, “you’ve shown us to our seats at least a dozen times.” “Sir, I need to see your tickets.” The wife sighed. “Oh, for crying out loud Jeff, just show him the tickets.” On the field, Jose Reyes drew a walk. Jeff was distracted as he gave a little fist pump, reached into his pocket and pulled out three tickets. “Elmo Grows Up, thank you very much, but I need to see the tickets for these seats.” “Elmo?” the little boy said. “Oh, those are for a show we’re seeing at the Nokia tomorrow” the man explained while he reached back in and pulled out the Dodger tickets. The Bad Usher looked at them carefully, made sure the date was right, the section and the seats themselves, then handed them back. “Okay. C’mon, Van Peltier,” he turned to go up the steps. The man said “Excuse me, what about the Elmo tickets?” “What tickets?” The boy whimpered “Elmo?” Peter was shocked himself. The dad couldn’t believe it. “Hey, that’s not cool, man. We ordered those tickets months ago, they cost $200.” The mention of the price screwed the Bad Usher’s eyes shut, and his face turned a little pinker. “You handed me these tickets, they’re my property now.” “What!?” Now the mother was on her feet, her own eyes wide open. The boy started crying. Petey, who was standing a step above, instinctively reached out and stopped him from going past. The Bad Usher’s rage rose even higher at the contact. With the Elmo tickets in his left hand, he reached back with his right for the blade…
…when a loud “crack” echoed throughout the stadium, and rushing in like a tide in its wake came a roar from the crowd. Petey looked up, caught the arc of the ball and had that instant realization that it was coming exactly at him…but then he was falling backwards, tripped over the step as the stadium lights above him were blocked out by the Bad Usher’s silhouette. The Bad Usher raised his arms, muttered something about ears, and started to lean down…when the ball cracked him off the back of the head. He let out a grunt and brought his hands up, nicking his ear with the knife. He let out a louder scream. The knife clattered to the cement, and Petey scooped it up. The tickets fluttered down, snatched up by the dad. The ball bounced around between the seats, scooped up by the little boy. The Mets now had the lead.
For a moment, while the crowd still cheered and David Wright rounded third, time stood still. Petey and the Bad Usher locked eyes…and the whole spell was broken by a loud riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip from behind them. Petey glanced up and saw only a pink streak fly by. The Bad Usher’s head, blood trickling down his earlobe and onto his shirt, seemed to short circuit at all the information it was supposed to process at this instant. He was humiliated by this rookie, he lost face with the fans, his head hurt, his ear hurt, his hat had a bite out of it…and now the Streaker was racing by within an arm’s reach, and yet his arms were too slow to reach out and stop him. Frank the Streaker raced by him, down the aisle steps and in a single bound leaped over the short fence and out into left field. The roar of the crowd increased as he darted across the cool night grass and towards center field. “This isn’t over, Van Peltier!” the Bad Usher cried as he turned and raced after him. The family stood there in shock, except for the boy who was holding the ball like a Faberge egg. One jerk a few rows behind yelled “Throw it back!” but nobody listened. Petey shook his head clear, watched as the Streaker put it in a higher gear and, with two steps on the warning track, climbed the wall like Ken Griffey Jr. and rolled over the top. The Bad Usher tried the same thing, but crashed head first into the blue padding.
Petey turned to the family and motioned them to come with. “Let’s see if we can upgrade you guys to the box seats near Seinfeld, where you get all the food you can eat.”
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Corporal Agorn
Posts:181
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| 07-07-2008 - SelecA - |
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| Hey you didn't disappoint in part 2. Excellent reading WCC! While the Bad Usher is a reprehensible character, I'm all for knifing beach balls and, if possible, knifing the fans who brought them into the game. Knifing fans who do the wave would be asking too much right? |
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Dude
Posts:608
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| 07-07-2008 - SelecA - |
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| Agorn, i think Manuel has a spot for you on his coaching staff. WCC, nice work here, you sure your NOT george plimpton? |
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Cookie
Posts:596
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| 07-07-2008 - SelecA - |
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Ha ha ha... This was a good payoff in part two. Anyone who steals a kid's Elmo tickets deserve the bad stuff he gets.
I also love Frank the Streaker. It taps into every man's dream-- to be completely naked (or at least pants-less) at any given moment.
Enjoyable reading for a dreary Monday AM. Thank you WCC.
Agorn.. knifing people?!?!? Yeesh! But i guess the wave fans are pretty frickin despicable. Speaking of coaching... I'm liking Girardi's heat to blue on that called 'strike' (or rather.. the 2nd questionable one). Yeah.. you don't argue strikes as a manager... but he saw his players were starting to feel dejected about it... so went out there with some fire and brimstone. Good for him. Frankly, I wondered if Joe G. was gonna pull out a knife himself! |
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Sam's-a-fan
Posts:910
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| 07-07-2008 - SelecA - |
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| Two of my all time favorite works of literature, The Grapes of Wrath & Catch-22, didn't grab me right away. I started each of them two or three times putting them down each time after only about fifty pages, but eventually I broke the barrier and then I couldn't put them down. Similarly, WCC's first installment of "The Bad Usher" did not grab me, but now I'm hooked. Can't wait until next Monday! Way to go Craig! |
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TheMatts
Posts:1581
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| 07-07-2008 - SelecA - |
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| WCC: Epic! Stellar! Three questions: 1) Should we expect a prequel? 2) Does Bad Usher have a shaved bald head? 3) How does he look in a blue or orange suit? |
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ActiveForums 3.6
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MATTS-MATICS: NY Jets vs NY Rangers |
BRAVE Fan Talks REDSKINS
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ROY HOBBS ON STEROIDS??? |
MEAGHAN & JAKE: COOLEST FANS |
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Nobody Remembers The Loser |
Giant/Super Tuesday |
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MATTS-MATICS: Hockey Nuts Go At It |
See us on: "Law & Order" |
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MATT FACTS:
Chad Pennington is NOT a Brett Favre fan... Hillary Clinton and Don Nelson have never been seen in the same place... Jerry Manuel is not related to Charlie ManuelJerry Manuel is not related to Charlie Manuel... Somebody namd Michel coaches the Pittsburgh Penguins... Tiki Barber quit the Giants. The Giants then won the Super Bowl... The New England Patriots only lost ONE game out of 19!!! Aaron Heilman was actually funny in re to Eli and Plaxico Burress helping the Mets as a pitcher and outfielder, respectively. Repeat, Heilman was funny... Jessica Simpson would rather date Tom Brady - trust us... Eli Manning is better than Archie - now... Alyssa Milano is a Met fan. RRRRR... Rickey Henderson speaks in the 3rd Person... Shawn Green has big ears... Howard Johnson likes to stay at the Holiday Inn, ironically... Sandy Alomar, Sr. is the youngest of 9 kids. That's why he was quick around the dish. Jiminy Cricket was the Philly Phanatic in a previous life…Fred Wilpon is pals with Sandy Koufax... Mike Ditka is a really tough guy.. Buffalo has a Triple A baseball team. They are NOT called The Snowballs... Chan Ho Park has people thinking of naming a ballfield after him - it would be called Chan Ho Park Park... John Maine has never been, oddly enough, to Maine... Curt Gowdy, Jr. has never been to Yellow Knife, Canada... Kevin Mitchell played 6 positions for the Mets in '86 and, according to Doc Gooden's book, didn't like cats... John Olerud & Wayne Gretzky have never been seen in the same place... Kevin McReynolds now makes his living doing laugh tracks for sit-coms... Tony Gwynn is nearing 300 lbs... Carlos Beltran has Mercedes Benz dealerships named for him in Barcelona, Spain... Willie Montanez was called Guillermo by Lenny Randle... Rusty Staub beat Jeff Kent in a race – TODAY... Jay Horwitz is a dynamite Cricket players – somebody said... Jeff Wilpon was a decent minor league catcher... Ziggy Palfy lives in Slovakia and is a big Met fan... Superman Returns, yet still can’t hit Billy Wagner... David Wright will win the Triple Crown – on a horse... Omar Minaya is Tobey McGuire’s stunt-double in Spider Man 3... Hilary Clinton has Mr. Met pajamas – we think... Albert Einstein was a HUGE Met fan... The Metropolitan Opera House was named for the Mets after their 2nd season in ’63... Wally Backman, ’86 sparkplug, considered changing his name to Wally Back-Matt... Neil Allen and Mike Stanton, former Mets, have Allen & Stanton Streets on Lower East Side named for them.
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