I am the Bobby-Man. (Choo-choo-kachoo)
Last night I attended the Phillies game against the Marlins. The Phillies lost the game 7-6 (took themselves out of it with some sloppy plays.) The game would not have been worth noting, except for my own conduct.
Bobby Abreu has long been my favorite player. Without garnering much attention, he's been the one consistently excellent thing the Phillies have had going for them since he first joined the team. (Note the answer to the trivia question/critique: What has Ed Wade ever done right? Kevin Stocker for Bobby Abreu.)
I am a stoic man. Restrained, dignified. Ok, you have to give me restrained. But when I go to a Phillies game, I like to get in the spirit and do a little hooting. I'm not a major boo-bird. (My policy is that you can boo conduct and stupidity. But you can't boo mere unsuccessful performance. My policy is not shared with the other 99.3% of Phillies game attendees.)
When Bobby comes to the plate, I try to show him the gratitude he has earned. And that gratitude sounds a little bit like this. (I've got lungs. Think LOUD. )
COME ON, BAHHHHBEEEEEEEE! COME ON BOBBY-NOW! HEYA, BAAAAAHHHHHBEEE!
After a few of those, we're ready for a torrential, rapid-fire tongue-twister, Latin American soccer announcer-style:
COMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBY-
COMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBY!
COOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM OOOOOOOOOONNNNN BAHHHHHHHHHBEEEEEEEEE!
Usually, this little stunt amuses the residents of the local sections of the ballpark (while simultaneously humiliating my ballpark companion. Poor wifey!) Last night was pretty funny, though. I seemed to have a few fans who would cheer after I'd do the little finale. By the end of the game, you could hear a smattering of pale immitators in the upper deck as Bobby would stroll to the plate. In fact, as he came up for his fifth plate appearance, I actually got heckled by a somebody behind me because I had not yet started up. ("What, you're going to give up now at the end of the game?")
The last two Phillies games I've attended, Bobby Abreu was not retired once. While I'm not so narcissistic as to think that I had any hand in his success, clearly it hasn't hurt! Assuming that I haven't actually done permanent hearing damage to anybody, it sure is good, clean fun.
As people filed out, somebody behind me said, "Good night, Bobby-man." I like that. I certainly am a Bobby-man, and I'd be honored to be the Bobby-man.
Bobby-man can be hired for your Phillies outing for the low cost of a ticket and a cold beverage to wet the pipes. (No refunds if Bobby doesn't play. Bobby-man cannot be held liable for damages related to loss of hearing, business, or personal dignity.)
Bobby Abreu has long been my favorite player. Without garnering much attention, he's been the one consistently excellent thing the Phillies have had going for them since he first joined the team. (Note the answer to the trivia question/critique: What has Ed Wade ever done right? Kevin Stocker for Bobby Abreu.)
I am a stoic man. Restrained, dignified. Ok, you have to give me restrained. But when I go to a Phillies game, I like to get in the spirit and do a little hooting. I'm not a major boo-bird. (My policy is that you can boo conduct and stupidity. But you can't boo mere unsuccessful performance. My policy is not shared with the other 99.3% of Phillies game attendees.)
When Bobby comes to the plate, I try to show him the gratitude he has earned. And that gratitude sounds a little bit like this. (I've got lungs. Think LOUD. )
COME ON, BAHHHHBEEEEEEEE! COME ON BOBBY-NOW! HEYA, BAAAAAHHHHHBEEE!
After a few of those, we're ready for a torrential, rapid-fire tongue-twister, Latin American soccer announcer-style:
COMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBY-
COMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBYCOMEBOBBY!
COOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM OOOOOOOOOONNNNN BAHHHHHHHHHBEEEEEEEEE!
Usually, this little stunt amuses the residents of the local sections of the ballpark (while simultaneously humiliating my ballpark companion. Poor wifey!) Last night was pretty funny, though. I seemed to have a few fans who would cheer after I'd do the little finale. By the end of the game, you could hear a smattering of pale immitators in the upper deck as Bobby would stroll to the plate. In fact, as he came up for his fifth plate appearance, I actually got heckled by a somebody behind me because I had not yet started up. ("What, you're going to give up now at the end of the game?")
The last two Phillies games I've attended, Bobby Abreu was not retired once. While I'm not so narcissistic as to think that I had any hand in his success, clearly it hasn't hurt! Assuming that I haven't actually done permanent hearing damage to anybody, it sure is good, clean fun.
As people filed out, somebody behind me said, "Good night, Bobby-man." I like that. I certainly am a Bobby-man, and I'd be honored to be the Bobby-man.
Bobby-man can be hired for your Phillies outing for the low cost of a ticket and a cold beverage to wet the pipes. (No refunds if Bobby doesn't play. Bobby-man cannot be held liable for damages related to loss of hearing, business, or personal dignity.)
posted by EB at 11:00 PM
Site Feed
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home