Dear unborn child.
Today I sat at a bar and watched a lady slowly get obliterated on four dollar Bud Light draughts. Pretty sad. Not that she got obliterated. You’ll probably experience that for yourself at some point, but that she got obliterated on Bud Light. She probably thought she was getting a deal, but she wasn’t. There are no deals to be had with Bud Light, It’s swill, and she had so many that the “Light” portion hardly mattered anymore.
She could have walked over to the grocery store and got her self a six or twelve pack for the same price of two draughts. Scratch that. They don’t have booze in grocery stores in Canada—which is where I’m writing this from. You have to go to a beer store. Only in the fine country of American can you get a beer in the same place you can get diapers, cat food, and TV dinners.
Anyway, she got all boozed up and started loud talking about how the Jays are the absolute suck this year. After all of 9 games.
Yes, yes, you may be wondering what I even bring this up to you. Why am I not spending my time writing you more productive information, like how to kiss a girl, or how to handle a bully. Is it because I want to justify my role in creating the Blue Jay hype machine? Is it that I’m bored and lonely back in my hotel room, longing for your mother. Is it because I want to make the act of being in a carp, chain restaurant bar sound some how colorful, texture rich, and the place of great epiphanies.
I don’t fucking know, stop asking dumb questions.
Yes, I realize I have probably told you there are no dumb questions, but daddy’s feeling a little liberated at the moment and your bringing him down with all your over analysis, which you probably get from me, but… Just shut up and listen.
I didn’t want to stoop to that loud talking lady’s level at the bar, so I’m stooping here. The Blue Jays are just off to a bad start, see. They’re playing terrible baseball right now. Teams do that from time to time. And they’re looking ugly while doing it. Everyone one of their stud pitchers has a bad outing under their belt, their second baseman has two feet for hands, and their power hitters have mustered all the juice of a potato battery.
I still think they’re going to be good, but they sure look carppy at the moment. And that’s what bar dwelling loud talkers key into, dear sweet child of mine, they feed off the ugly just like they feed of the outstanding. Why? Because it’s obvious. Most fans are Masters of the Obvious. If you’re old enough to read this, you’ve probably heard that phrase, Masters of the Obvious, by now. In fact, I’ve probably used it to sarcastically describe something you said.
Child, you can always spot a fan that doesn’t know jack about the sport their a fan off by how absolute and matter-of-fact they get when they have a few drinks and a captive audience.
Believe it or not, there is a lot of good real world wisdom here. For starters, don’t go to a chain restaurant bar and drink shitty beer. If you’re going to waste money on beer, have some respect for your good name and do it at home.
Second, don’t loud talk at a bar about any sport. If you knew what the hell you were talking about, you wouldn’t need to be surrounded by a bunch of wasted imbeciles in order to make sense. No one wants to hear your analysis, least of all while you’re drunk. Hell, I get paid to do it sober and most folks don’t even want to hear mine.
Third, your mother would be disappointed to hear you’re thinking about, or have actually been getting trashed. She raised you better then that. Me? Well, as your father, speaking from personal experience on the matter, I know how much wisdom you can glean from a night sitting at a bar. Just make sure you’re not driving when you’re finished. And if someone else is driving, make sure they weren’t loud talking about sports before you get in their car.