Saturday, April 4, 2009

Who But Big Willie Style....

Me, motherfucker, that's who!

Sorry Kenny, I forgot.

Anyway as chronicled below, we went to the Yanks game last night. Jay wrote a lot about it so I will fill everyone in on the luxury box story. So we are in the bleachers and Mere and myself go to get pretzels and beer when one of our friends calls and asks if we want to come to the W.B. Mason Box so obviously we said "fuck yes" as fast as possible.

Being the first game in the stadium no one really knew where anything was located, including the staff. But this gentile Mexican attendant named Willie (aka Mexican Willie, to me anyway) was like I will help you. So long story short we are all over the place asking everyone where the entrance to the boxes are, but no one gives us the right answer. After about 15 minutes of venturing Willie said he had to go and started walking the other way, so being 9 beers deep I yelled the following in the middle of the Grand concourse.

"Dammit Willie we started this journey together and I will be damned if we are not going to finish it together!"

He decided that I was right, we continued, and eventually found the right area. There is a set of glass doors with the H&R Block logo on them that you go through and then there is a hallway with all the box entrances. So after a little talking with security and Mexican Willie's help we got into the hallway and found Box 30.

Here are a few photos from the place, they are shitty quality because I broke my camera and all I had was my BlackBerry camera.

The empty seats right there were occupied by Tino Martinez, Paul O'Neil, David Cone, and Minka Kelly.

You can't tell but there is a granite counter that runs the length of all the boxes

Terrible picture but you get the idea.

From the door of to the seats into the box.

On the remote chances that anyone gives a shit, the luxury boxes are way better than the ones in the old stadium (except if you have Freddy Sez in there stealing cheese, I shit you not and I have witnesses). They are much larger, the seats are actually outside, there is a full kitchen, leather couches, big TVs, free everything, and much better food selection. What I really liked was how all the boxes are connected on the outside because it gives you more of the feel of actually being with the real fans, you can kind of see what I am talking about in the first picture. I am very pleased and since I have been in a box for a total of 6 innings my entire life and will probably will never get in one again, these things are important to me.

On the way our Mere and I were walking to the glass doors and these two girls are pushing a desert tray down the hallway. So being 11 beers deep I say the following:

"WOW WOW WOW, lets slow it down here! Can we have one of these?"

There happened to be a Account Manager walking by and she said it was ok, so we enjoyed some chocolate tiramsui cake.

After that we walked down to the seats that Jay mention in the post below where Frank some how got to. The game was in the 9th at that point, but it was cool to get so close and snap some photos.

I would like to thank all the guys from W.B. Mason for their hospitaility, the lady that gave me the cake, Derek Jeter for being awesome, and last but not least Mexican Willie for helping me out in my true time of need, this city needs a hero like him.

This Just In: The New Yankee Stadium Is F_____g Sick

We've spent our fair share of time pointing out the flaws with the New Yankee Stadium, but actually having the chance to talk around it last night made me forget roughly 99% of them. I don't have time to find the words right now. I wanted to throw this post up real quick, because I've got things to do today so I don't even have time to tag or edit it.

Below, please find a collection of pictures and comments documenting the experience last night. Big Willie Style infiltrated the WB Mason Box somehow and Frank worked his way down to field level. We'll put some more posts up later, once I have a chance get BWS's pics off of his Blackberry and I have time to photoshop other people's heads onto our bodies.


Big Willie Style took time to physically embrace the Stadium.

The Old and the New.
(personal favorite)

Right when you walk in Gate 6, there is a giant HDTV showing the game right on the wall. This was convenient, because at the time we were entering the place, the game was just about to start.

I don't care what you have heard about the screen out in centerfield, you will be amazed at how sick it is. I just nabbed that picture with my camera from our seats in Section 412, and look how it came out:

$36 worth of "fucking finally!!!". For some reason they don't unscrew the caps off of the plastic beer bottles. Why? I guess they are just daring people to shake one up and throw it at a Red Sox fan.

The bathrooms are nice, but two complaints. No dividers between the urinals (is this a thruway rest stop?) and no ledge to rest your beers on. Both of those would have been nice.

The concourses in the Grandstand are totally open-air. That will prevent them from smelling like salty garbage like they did in the Old Stadium.

The view from Section 412. It honestly wasn't that bad considering that our seats were probably in the worst 10% in the Stadium, location-wise.

The facade adds such a nice touch. I was actually happy we were up so high because I had the chance of getting it in a picture, if need be.

At one point, a cop climbed up on the roof for some reason. I asked him if he would take my camera with him and snap some pics, but amazingly he declined that offer.

Big Willie Style airplaning it through the extremely spacious ramps.

A view from the bleachers, with the rain coming down.

Unlike the Old joint, the bleachers have a better view of the game than most of the Upper Deck.

My food choice was the chicken tender platter (box). For $10.50, I got 2 1/2 chicken fingers and 19 fries. I have to say though, they were delicious. As good as chicken fingers get.

The condiment options were decidedly lacking, however. Can a man get some BBQ sauce or honey mustard up in this bitch?

I departed in the 7th, but Frank was kind enough to take my camera on his descent into the seats we could never, ever, ever afford.

Well done, Frank. You define wasted journalism.