As anyone who either knows me or reads this blog already knows, I’m splitting full season tickets to the Yankees with a friend.
And as anybody with a window knows, all it has done since the month of June started is fucking rain, which makes dealing with baseball tickets a very difficult ordeal.
However, I have a few friends who must think Yankees season tickets come with mystical powers, based on the stupid questions I have to listen to almost every time I have tickets on a day when the forecast contains the possibility of precipitation.
First off, I am not the least bit religious. The only “big man” I have any kind of connection with is Clarence Clemons, and that’s strictly musical. So when you ask me, “When is the rain going to stop,” the only answer you should expect is, “How the fuck should I know?”
Second, season tickets don’t provide me with access into the Yankees’ inner sanctum. So when you ask me questions like, “Are they going to call the game?” or “When do they usually call the game?” or “Do you think they’ll call the game?” please see my answer to “When is the rain going to stop?”
I hate rain, especially on days when I have Yankees tickets. The threat of rain annoys me enough. Some of my friends’ questions push me to the boiling point.
And before you ask, no, I DON’T know when they’ll make the game up.