Daver The Raver
Last month I loaded up Mrs. Daver and the DaveSprouts and headed to the big solar oven known as Rangers Ballpark in Arlington for a little first place baseball followed by a nice post-game fireworks show. Little did I know that my blood pressure would go shy-high from tolerating the stupidity of those around me.
My first observation upon arriving on the property was the apparent inability to understand what the little white grid lines on the parking lot are for. I can’t count the number of cars that were on the line or over the line. I even saw one car parked on the nexus of 4 parking spaces, looking exactly like the pics of Bermuda-shorted tourists at the Four Corners posing in such an uncomfortable manner as to have part of their body in four states simultaneously. It seems obvious that the general populace cannot grasp the concept of parking in designated spaces. If I were in charge, and I should be, I would bring back the days of parking lot attendants who guided you to an exact space and monitored your ability to be a good citizen and keep your tires in your own darn space.
When we got to our seats upstairs with the common folk, I was completely amazed at the people who couldn’t understand how to find their seats. Let me clue everybody in to the Ranger’s ultra-secret seating code – the sections are arranged numerically. This seems to be hard for some to grasp, so an example; section 323 is sandwiched between sections 322 and 324, not somewhere in the area of 316 or 330. Got it? Good, because here come the hard part. The first row in the section is row 1. Therefore, if your tickets are in row 5 and there are only 2 rows in front of the seat you choose to drop your keester in, you are in the wrong row. Finally, the seats are arranged numerically in the row. So once again, if your seat is number 4 and there are not 3 seats immediately to your left, you ain’t in the right spot Sparky! It is completely mind-boggling to count the number of people who have to get up and move because they can’t grasp this concept. Especially frustrating is the fact that there are plenty of Ranger employees there to help you locate your spot for the evening. If I had that job, I would probably hurt somebody!
Now for the high blood pressure part! There was this buffoon behind me the entire game who couldn’t identify a baseball in a line-up that included a baseball, a pizza, a Ford, and a high school cheerleader. Unfortunately, he was so loud that EVERYONE in sections 322, 323, and 324 could hear him as he made one ignorant statement after another, and here I was sitting 18 inches from him. I am not sure he had ever seen a baseball game, yet he was providing commentary as if he were Bob Costas. His idea of a good ball player is one with a lot of home runs. At one point, I heard him announcing that Cliff Lee is not a good player, and he didn’t know why they traded for him, because it was late in the season and he hadn’t hit a home run all year. Forget the fact the Cliff is a pitcher, and pitchers don’t bat in the American League. Now, before you get all up in my grill for some alleged intolerance, let me tell you that the guy in front of me had literally never been to a game and was very interested in what was happening as he asked intelligent questions of the fan next to him. Him I like; the other guy, not so much. Apparently the buffoon had never heard the phrase of “better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.” I guess he figured he would make sure everyone knew he was a moron. Oh wait, I almost forgot! This guy was older than me, yet he still brought his glove to the game (in case we got any of those frequent upper deck foul balls) and also found it necessary to frequently scream “Swing Batter!” during the course of our 3 hour time together. Seriously? Has this ever worked on anyone older than 6? I submit that it has not. Idiot! Loud idiot!
Finally, what the heck is the deal with the Wave? I have never understood the fascination. Why is it that anytime you get a group of people together in a sports venue, it suddenly becomes a big deal to stand up, yell “Woo!” and then immediately sit back down. I can understand the kids participation, but I didn’t pay my hard-earned money to bond with the dork behind me by sharing this pastime. Sit down and watch the game already! Has anyone else ever noticed that some fool always starts the Wave during a crucial part of the game? I don’t participate and never will! I hate it, hate it, hate it! If I were in charge, and I should be, I would use peer pressure to kill this inane activity. The next time some drunken fool stands up to start the Wave, I would kick him and his entire section out of the stadium! Let the angry innocent fans deal with him in the parking lot! I know this sounds unfair to the rest of the fans, but I have been informed by Mrs. Daver that my idea of physical assault on the perpetrator would land me in the Arlington jail. I wouldn’t last long in jail. My sarcastic ways would get me hurt in a hurry.
Next time you go to a game of any sort, please be considerate and park within the lines, use some sense when locating your seat, keep your mouth shut if you don’t know what is happening, and remain seated unless something exciting happens that requires a cheer. For those who don’t know much about sports, the exciting moments are when everyone else stands up and screams!
If everyone would just follow these simple rules, we will all have a good time, the world will be a better place, and Daver won’t blow a blood vessel!
Now for the scary part – ALL of these people, including the world-class idiot behind me have the right to vote in an election, and their vote counts just as much as yours and mine. I just pray that there are enough educated voters to cancel out their ill-informed votes!