Get out of here with that shit. It was slick after a rain delay. Shit happens.
Loss, don’t care. I can take it. But when a bunch of prima donna cocksuckers think they’re above the integrity of the game, I take issue. Dirty teams have no place, and I don’t give a fuck who they think they are. If my team pulled something dirty, you bet I’d call them out for it.
But as soon as something happens that those fucks don’t like, out come the fucking tears.
Fuck that.
So anyway, his last at bat, Volpe’s getting heckled. Same all night. Big deal, it’s baseball. They’ve been getting chattered at since fucking t-ball. No foul language, nothing like that.
Strikes out swinging, immediately looks towards my section, then books it back to the dugout. Within a minute, at the bottom of the aisle on the other side of the section, a security guy on the inside of the net talks to one on the outside. Another minute, maybe less, and he comes up to a guy sitting a row in front of mine, a couple seats from the opposite end. Then proceeds to tell him he can’t yell at players batting.
Everybody around just laughed.
What a fucking pussy. He gets heckled, can’t take it, goes down swinging, and immediately runs to the bench to complain.
Fucking grow a pair and play ball.