The sweaty underbelly of Opening Day

As I mentioned earlier, something about the gorgeous weather at this year’s Opening Day that subdued the usual orneriness of the crowds. Everyone seemed more mellow.

A group of dudebros noticed my scraggy beard as I walked through the parking lot.

“Omg! It’s J.J. Hardy! You’re back! How’s Minnesota?”

I encountered no unpleasantries until I was leaving the game, when a very drunk, possibly off-duty traffic cop in the row behind me put his arm in front of me and a little old lady who were already on the stairs. He then traffic-copped his five very drunk friends into the aisle while we were forced to stand there. Then he nearly fell backward onto me and the little old lady several times.

I exited through a side door, and there was a relatively small bottleneck of people trying to get through the door. I heard a voice from behind me.

“That’s it, I’m pushin’.”

A few second later I felt someone pushing against me, trying to knock me forward into the patrons in front of me. I leaned back and pushed out my elbow, boxing out to prevent a stampede. The miscreant stopped pushing, which just left his gigantic, disgusting belly resting against my side, bulging through its T-shirt.

I looked over my shoulder.

“Please stop that.”

He stood there and tried to put on a face to show me how drunk and stupid and crazy he was, and that he would kick my ass. Which he did not. He stood there, just trying to keep showing me how drunk and stupid and crazy he was, like a coward. Or perhaps he realized that he was the asshole trying to push people over. Hopefully, he drunkenly crashed his car and died on the way back to whatever hick part of town or suburb he was from.

Hey, you assholes. Get fucked. Where are you the other 161 games a year? Where were you for the rainy Wednesday day game? I would be fine with the Brewers losing 1.5 million in attendance this year if it meant keeping their fat, kielbasa-stuffed asses out of Miller Park’s seats.

That wasn’t the worst of it. This story was posted a few days ago and is simply horrifying. It describes a fashion student/bartender who had beer cans thrown at her car and was beaten by a husband and wife team, among others, before police could arrest four of the assailants.

C’mon, crackers. This isn’t Chicago.

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