I finally made it to a Yankee game Wednesday that was not rained out (even though it was raining) and was rewarded with an almost great performance by Good AJ* - as opposed to Bad AJ, who showed up in the seventh inning and gave up a pair of two-run bombs over the right field fence.
As the second one was launched, the drunken slob next to me** jumped from his seat and began screaming. "AJ you red-neck son of a @#$@#$@#$@#$! You're a @$%#$#$!@#!! And a @#@#$@#$#%^."
It was an impressive tirade.
"So what do you really think?" I asked as he fell back into his seat.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "I wasn't really paying attention to the game."
* - That would be AJ Burnett, the Yankees' sometimes good, often awful ace pitcher.
** - Not FellowWriter, who was on the other side.
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