You can call me a bandwagon fan, you can call me a Johnny Come Lately, you can call me whatever your personal preference is for someone who has only recently become a fan of a team doing well. I don’t really care what you call me. I love the Pirates.
Hell, I love baseball. It all started innocently enough. Garrett Jones. HA HA. Just kidding.
Casey was always a huge baseball fan, and he would watch the game, and I would read a book. He would try to engage me in conversations about baseball, I would pretend like I was sleeping.
Then I read Moneyball, discovered there was indeed a method behind the game, and BAM. I was hooked.
We have gone to about a zillion games this year, and we’ve bought a ten pack for the remainder of the season. And it was there, in the administrative offices of the Pirates, waiting for our behind the scenes tour of the park (membership has it’s privileges) that I saw a flyer for Pitch for Hope, a women’s only hitting, pitching and fielding clinic put on the Pirates coaches and players themselves.
Pitch for Hope benefited Glimmer of Hope, the nation’s only under-40 breast cancer study.
So wait. I could hang out with Pirate coaches and players AND help save boobies? Oh, and get a ticket to that afternoon’s Pirates/Tigers game? Sign me up.
I asked my friend Nicole to go. It’s not that she loves baseball, she doesn’t, but she loves day drinking. And I promised her if she came with me we would have many beers following.
We had a blast. From start to finish, the Pirates put on a fantastic event. Clint Hurdle was there. He is a funny, funny man. This is my new BFF, pitching coach Ray:
We got to hang out in the dugout.
AND! My favorite part of the day! A fun little game I like to call Ambush the Pitchers! Here is me almost getting cold cocked by a very uncooperative A.J. Burnett (dude, I totally don’t blame you. If some stranger came after me with a camera before I had my first coffee… let’s just say you were kind).
And the very affable, very sweet Jason Grilli. I don’t think they briefed everyone on the fact that 100 crazed female Pirate fans would be INSIDE the park that morning. Grilli showed up in his suit, and I swear panties started flying. We TRIED to get a picture, but this one old lady (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE) was literally dangling off his side. This is the best I could get before he was squired away by his handler:
Afterward there was a brunch and raffle where Nicole and I managed to not win a goddamn thing, but Nicole did get molested by the Pirate Parrot. She said that it was wet and warm inside his beak. I don’t want to know.
Casey and Nicole’s boyfriend met us afterwards, where I proceeded to make good on my promise of day drinking. I don’t have any pictures to post, so you will just have to trust me that it involved homemade Greek wine, learning how to swear in Greek, push ups in a Yellow Cab van, my favorite bar Cain’s, accosting people leaving mass to ask them why they believed in God, and an attempted interior tour of a Catholic Church.
Whether the Pirates won or lost that day is beside the point (I say this because they lost). What matters is they did a great thing for a great cause, and I had a great time. And really, that would make any day a great day.
Yours in appreciation of baseball and boobs,