Comerica officially survives blogger invasion

I wish I had some sort of excellent memory for conversations, because I’m pretty sure if someone had just transcribed everything we all said to each other while at Nemo’s and then the ballpark, I’d be free of blogging for the rest of the season. I could just post up a paragraph of the transcript once every couple of days, and you’d all laugh so hard your Big League Chew would come shooting out of your nose, and everyone would win.

I do not have any such memory and so I cannot share this magical experience with you as fully as I’m sure you’d all like. I can, however, tell you that Comerica Park has never seen such ardent Neifi Perez cheerleaders. At first I was resistant but they wore me down, and when you think about it, it is only natural. Who could dislike Neifi’s cube-like cranium? his curiously small and scrunchy face? his awkwardly slender ankles? Really he is such a pleasing package.

The golden boy did not, alas, choose to grace the field with his presence on this night, but our little section of the mezzanine made certain that all around us would know that there was not a play on the field that Neifi!! could not, nay, would not have done better.

A strikeout? Neifi!!! would have gotten a hit before the ball even reached the plate.

An inability to reach a ball in the outfield? Neifi!! would have needed only one of his world-encompassing strides to capture that ball.

A ball bounced through a gap in the infield? Neifi!!! would have raised one hand and that ball would have frozen in midair out of RESPECT.

But this is all obvious common sense, I know. I merely repeat it herein to let you see the caliber of highbrow baseball analysis that is likely to be spouted when many bloggers get together.

I also have to say that some people, well, you can pretty much get a good idea of how they would be to watch a game with from their blogs. You read Roar of the Tigers, I think you know what you’re getting into if you find yourself stuck next to me at a game. But some people… I don’t know what, if anything, I was expecting, but people were way funnier in Real Life than they routinely are on their blogs. It was a very nice surprise.

To be honest, it should have been a pretty dispiriting game. Bondo fell apart… again. The rain delay was like an hour long and there was the attendant personal sogginess to deal with (although not as bad for me as for others… Brian and I were the only ones with enough foresight to bring rain gear). We lost in a relatively agonizing fashion, because there were many points where the game could have been won.

But I did not care. I had not seen live baseball (aside from the last couple innings of the Red Sox game where Carlos Pena hit that walk-off, and that was on my computer) in such a long time, and I was so blasted from the first day of classes, that just to be at a ballgame… man. It didn’t matter that it rained, or that we lost. I mean, yes, it matters now, especially after yesterday’s loss and the upcoming Twins series and WOAH NOW TIGERS KEEP THOSE CLAWS OUT WE’VE STILL GOT SEPTEMBER TO GET THROUGH YOU KNOW and all that. But it was just a blast getting to meet all them crazy Tigerblogfolk and getting to BE AT COMERICA and SEE BASEBALL. In the final estimation I am easily pleased.

Plus, I was less upset about the rainout than I might have been because it gave me a chance to shoot around a little.

Moral of the story: don’t bring an art student to a baseball game with a lot of downtime in it.

The attending bloggers ended up being me (of course), Billfer (Detroit Tigers Weblog), Rob The Bleacher Guy (the Cheap Seats), Brian (Beyond Boxscores), Greg Eno (Out of Bounds), Big Al (The Wayne Fontes Experience), and Ian (Sweaty Men Endeavors). The temptation to keep calling Bill “Billfer” was strong, and I was sorely disappointed that no one called Ian “Sweaty Man”. Oh, and when we were driving to Nemo’s Bill[fer] called Ian’s cell phone, which I picked up because Ian was the one driving. And Bill[fer] says, after a beat, “Samela?”

I can’t really repeat what I said to Ian for that one, because Evan doesn’t like us swearing on MVN.

All the photos from the event are to be found right here. Go have a look, there was some neat stuff visible from up in the mezzanine.

Oh, and at one point I do remember Rob The Bleacher Guy requesting a study of what Bondo would look like if he had hair. Specifically, Magglio’s glorious curly locks (The Bleacher Guy did not use the phrase “glorious curly locks”, although it would have been great if he had). Well, that is, after all, what I do. Behold (and click for bigger).

And now you know.

8 responses to “Comerica officially survives blogger invasion

  1. I didn’t bring rain gear because I just assumed that Neifi would scare the rain away with a steely glare.
    He must have been preoccupied.
    As for your photoshop, I humbly propose that it forever be known as “The Bondonez.”
    And it is tremendous.

  2. […] I had a great time with my fellow bloggers on Tuesday night despite the soggy losing-ness at Comerica Park. I’ll point you to Ian and Samara who have done an excellent job wrapping up the night. But if you want one phrase to summarize the conversation it would have to be “What would Neifi do?” And I encourage you to check out the photography of the supremely talented Sam who managed to make rain look beautiful. […]

  3. […] I had a great time with my fellow bloggers on Tuesday night despite the soggy losing-ness at Comerica Park. I’ll point you to Ian and Samara who have done an excellent job wrapping up the night. But if you want one phrase to summarize the conversation it would have to be “What would Neifi do?” And I encourage you to check out the photography of the supremely talented Sam who managed to make rain look beautiful. […]

  4. Wow, either you guys are all midgets or Billfer is huge. I didn’t picture him being so tall.

  5. Billfer could’ve swat us all away like Neifi blistering hits into the outfield, but chose to stoop over and embrace us for a photo. It was a very fun night.

  6. I’m tall…it’s what I do.

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