From my life...It doesn’t matter where I go, at every sporting event I attend, I always seem to sit next to “that guy”.
Now, I don’t mind people taking through a game, or screaming at the players. I don’t even mind the big, fat, smelly guy who’s had a few too many, and insists on a dancing the “shirtless shuffle” up and down the isle.
I’m fine with that, that’s what you expect when you go to a game.
What I don’t expect, is to see a couple ladies gossiping while knitting... and I have. In fact, it seems like most of the time, my “that guy” is a woman.
I’m not trying to say that women don’t belong at ballgames, or even that they don’t know the etiquette. By and large, women do just fine in the midst of the shirtless, sun-burned fat guys and over exuberant fantasy players. Most of them even know the game well enough to add something to the conversation that usually develops among the fans in your vicinity.
There are a few, though, that have no business anywhere near a sporting event. They drive me crazy! And why, God, do they always sound like Fran Drescher!?
The two knitters I mentioned before... Basically, they looked like fourth grade teachers, and they didn’t watch or say one word about the game. Not one! Of course, I did, unfortunately, get to hear about what Sally said to Marge, and why Anne’s granddaughter shouldn’t be dating that boy.
This type of thing has no place at the stadium, and I thoroughly believe that you should be able to call an usher and have them removed. After all, what if a foul ball came up there? These old hens could have been seriously hurt... and they probably would have freaked out and stabbed me in the neck with a knitting needle.
OK, the yarn-wielding grannies are maybe my best example, but I ran in to another of “those guys” yesterday at Dolphins Stadium.
The woman sitting right in front of me was probably in her mid-40s, but I could tell that most of those were hard years. At first, she just seemed like an average fan, but it didn’t take long for her to scare off the two guys sitting next to her.
I’m actually shocked that her date didn’t abandon her as well, because all she did was harass him about “smoking four cigarettes every time he went to get more beer”.
Self-medication, I’m sure.
By the third inning, it was full-on. She, for whatever reason, found it necessary to use her horse, nasaly voice to give play-by-play for the entire game.
If you can, imagine Joan Rivers as a baseball commentator, while holding her nose...
Yeah, it was brutal... and it would have driven me crazy, except for the first time, I figured out great way to combat the annoyingness.
I listened to her, and I imagined that she was the play-by-play voice.
“Oh, Keeen Greeffey hit a fowl bawl!”
“Oh, weeew, he made the catch ova theeer!”
I would have preferred not to have to role play through the entire game, but let me tell you, it made for one of the most hilarious games imaginable, and it was a small price to pay for the chance to catch No. 600.
In any case... Has anyone else had to deal with that guy or girl? I’m curious to hear some of the great stories from around the country.
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