Down on the Farm

Quite a weekend planned, kids. Ignoring the big boy Sox who are playing like preschoolers lately, The Rick, Greta, Amy and I are taking off for parts, um, South? I’m bad at geography. To go watch the wee Sox play. Well, tonight it’s the Pawsox in Pawtucket where David Pauley will be pitching. Remember David Pauley? Got a spot start in Yankee Stadium? Managed not to cry? Yeah, that guy. Tomorrow, Jon Lester starts but tomorrow we’ll be in Portland, watching the even wee-er ones play as the Seadogs take on the New Hampshire Fisher Cats. But the most exciting part? This: “The first 1,000 fans to enter the ballpark will receive a Sea Dogs mini bat courtesy of Wendy’s.”

That’s going to end so very, very badly.

Then on Sunday evening, we finish up this minor league scouting report in Lowell with a game between the Spinners and the Tri-City Valley Cats. And that game is sold out. We are so getting arrested.

With all this traveling and scouting and what have you, you’d actually think I was getting paid for this shit. Not the case, I’m just insane.

I’m thinking the best part of the weekend will be Saturday because my mother, in a gross lapse in judgment, agreed to go with us to the game. Not that my mother doesn’t like baseball. She does. But I don’t remember the last time she actually attended a live baseball contest in the presence of not only myself and The Rick but also my friends. I’m wondering exactly how many innings it’ll take before she starts pretending that the girls teaching small children to swear and drawing obscene pictures on the scorecards are not there with her. I’m going with three. Maybe less if there’s a blowout and we get bored.

So, I know it’s last minute but if y’all have tickets to the game or are gonna be around any of those places and you see me, probably acting like a jackass, stop by and say hi.

I’ll report back, provided everyone signs a legal disclaimer indemnifying me against any future charges.

Additionally, I’ve added a new blog to the sidebar. Respect the Tek! These girls are good times, people, apparently fans of mine (I have fans?) and insanely funny. If you only knew the email exchanges that had already taken place, you’d be so very, very frightened.

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