I am ganking the "running diary" used most often by Bill Simmons. I don't think he has a patent. Whatever.
6:15 a.m.: Wake my ass up to cash in on the race I signed up to run.
7:40 a.m.: Arrive to the race to the throngs of people (15,000 plus).
8a.m.: Trip over about 4,000 of those people at the start as I start off way too fast. Most of those little fuckers were about 7 years old who would proceed to sprint past me and then come to a dead stop in front of me for the next hour.
9:08 a.m.: We finish. Sweat from front to back of my shirt.
9:45 a.m.: Begin cracking the whip on the wife to hurry up so I can go drink.
11:06 a.m.: Whomever had 11:06 a.m. in the "When would Juice would spill something on his new white Ryan Braun jersey" pool. Congrats.
11:45 a.m.: We leave for Milwaukee.
2:15 p.m.: Arrive in Milwaukee.
3:00 p.m.: Arrive at Miller Park. I miraculously get out of driving due to my buddy's girlfriend's dad and his 7 seat Lincoln Navigator that gets our group to the game. Kudos to that shit.
3:00 p.m. and 3 seconds: Crack the first Miller Lite.
4:30 p.m.: I have the best brat I've ever had in my life.
5:30 p.m.: A random fucking thunderstorm strikes 40,000 in the parking lot. Despite seeing the clouds loom for an hour, and watching the dome close, nobody budged until it was raining sideways. Even the Twins fans.
6:00 p.m.: Arrive in seat with a 7 dollar beer.
Around here is where it gets hazy. I know I had about 3 or 4 more large beers. I know I won one of those on a bet of the 5th inning score with some asshole Twins fan. Oh, and the split was about 50/50, which is not fun when your team loses.
ANYWAYS (another stolen literary device, thanks Chuck Klosterman), I semi-blacked out somewhere between the 8th and 12th innings. I was able to keep my motor function: walking, talking, etc. I was just super wobbly and profane (apparently, and not all that surprisingly). Either way, the wife put the kabosh to any further drinking, and probably saved my life and a Monday morning hangover. Managed to fight off a good vomit the next morning and after a two hour nap I was no worse for the wear.
One Blacked out Man's thoughts on the game: I may have imagined this but Yost had no problem throwing Torres out there for 2 1/3 in a non-save situation. Then sent out Tavaras for a second inning in lieu of Mota, DiFelice and Dillard. There was no real reason for this, but Neddy claims he didn't want to "put a rookie out there with the game on the line" (even though like two days ago he put Dillard out there in a one run game) and "Mota pitched two innings on Wednesday" but "he would've pitched him in the 13th." Then said "I don't worry about the next day, I was playing to win."
He pretty much contradicted himself in everything he said a) in the same day AND b) like two days earlier when he refused to use Mota in the 8TH because it wasn't a "save situation".
Fucking prick held onto his job because of the win yesterday.
In other news:
Tiger's putt yesterday was one of the first times I can remember jumping off the couch and yelling while watching golf. I watched about half of the playoff round online at work. USOpen.com was about the coolest website ever. Live TV coverage online for free, and it was pretty crystal clear. It was a lot better than March Madness On Demand, which used to be the best thing ever.