And you know Mr. Met don’t give a fuck if it’s ya’ birthday!
My little treat to myself to jump off my New Year (yes Rosh Hasha’anah) was to go to the big ballpark in my old ‘hood in Queens. It’s kind of how I reconnect to my parents who are no longer taking me to the cheap seats, and how I replenish my energies and return my focus. Plus, it’s beisbol bitches.
And beisbol has benn berry, berry good to me (yes Chico Escuela).
The only catch right now is that my azz is broke as fuck. Well, I’m not broken, since I am in one single piece. Okay, okay, one BIG, single piece, but my azz still ain’t got no money in the bank.
This is when I look up to the heavens and I ask my great-grandma for some help. She used to come all the way from Co-Op City on the QBX-1 bus down to her old house in Corona where my mother and I lived in order to babysit me. If you have ever had a grandmother then understand that having a great-grandma is like putting the little 2 symbol next to the word grandmother. It’s like grandmother squared. The power of love gets all exponential and shit.
Well what do you know? PEDRO MARTINEZ is on the hill for what might be his final game of the season and I just happen to have a few ‘Vote For Pedro’ t-shirts left to bump off. GOD helps those that help themselves so I packed my little bag with t-shirts and made myself a sammy to smuggle into the game.
There’s nothing better than a pumpernickel bagel with Nova lox, cream cheese, tomatoes and a slice of red onion. That my friends is good eating.
There’s also nothing better than having a birthday party with 50,000 festive people. I don’t know how many people actually showed up for the game, but it was way more folks than I could afford to buy drinks for to toast me. Even a few celebrities showed up too. Like this foine little cub reporter from channel 9 news. I forget ol’ girl’s name, and she had a little fatty too. She told her cameraman to take some pics of us because she didn’t trust my skills. Typical for a Black woman not to trust a brother just because he’s a sloppy, fat bum with flat pockets.
Kiss me, I’m an iNternets Celebrity.
Just as an aside, BRENDA BLACKMON would have let me stick my tongue down her throat. And it was my birthday for crissakes!
Enough hi-jinks with the real world news celebrities I had t-shirts to bump if I was gonna be able to buy myself a ducat to get up in this piece. Time for me to get my true school hustle steez on.
People are whizzing by me at lightning speed. While flatfoots are on the patrol to knock anyone moving that illicit contraband (read: unlicensed merchandise that MLB isn’t getting a cut off). I’m smooth though because this is some shit that I did when the heat was really on. R.I.P. BAR-KIM and 101st and Northern Boulevard. Take a look for yourself…
So after my work was all sold I put my paper right back into the community by hitting off a scalper for a one-piece.
At first I was like “Hell no!” since the date on the ticket said June 28, 2007 but then dude reminded me how his shit was 100 because the game tonight was a makeup joint from earlier in the summer. Yeah, he was right.
The St. Louis Cardinals were in town for a one night stand. Maybe we could get us a little get-back from last years’ NLCS, although even a win tonight can’t deny the Cards their World Championship so whatever.
My seat was supposed to be in the upper deck of Shea Stadium and I will tell you a true story in that I haven’t sat up there since my homey ViceGrip’s moms took us to a game when DAVE KINGMAN was still on the team.
Fuck what my ticket says, I’m sitting on the field level in a box seat behind the Mets dugout because that is how I enterprise my lifestyle. Y’all should do the same too. Ghetto Big Mac your lifestyle nah’mean?!? Don’t just settle for ketchup. Put some special sauce on your shit. I politicked myself through the security at the field level and then found an open seat, and when these Italian niggas sitting next to me looked at me funny I looked right back at them. Indignant ignorance is a DP trademark.
Besides, the Mets needed me up front for encouragement and support, and as you might imagine I am one of the greatest hecklers of all time who can keep it funny and keep it G-Rated for the ladies and the kids. BLU CHEEZ is for the childrens.
No amount of encouragement would save the Mets on this evening however, and I unfortunately made more noise than the home teams’ bats could. I was even tempted to start the wave in the latter half of the game, and the final two frames found me wearing my OG fitted in rally cap mode all to no avail. At the end of the game St. Louis had once again bested my beloved Mets (yes eff you BYRON CRAWFORD), but at least I placed my vote on the only candidate that I believe in.
Myself.
