SWEET TREAT: Baskin Robbins Mini Baseball Caps

When I was a kid, I vaguely remember eating ice cream out of a black plastic baseball cap. Nothing odd about that...except I think I was in the Dominican Republic. Hmmm I have the worst memory.

But I still have the cap. I didn't notice which team it was for though until a few months ago. The White Sox. I'm no Boston fan, but when I was in high school I liked a White Sox fan. If I was superstitious, I would've thought it was fate. Instead I thought, "Man, I wish I could get the Yankee mini cap." lol

 That's Wile E. Coyote and Bugs Bunny under there.

So me and Ally made our way to the nearest Baskins and basically just asked for the cap and whatever else we had to buy to get it. $5.99 for a two scoop sundae (I recommend America's Birthday Cake, despite the embedded cake cubes, or the Daiquiri—it's so weird) with fudge, whip cream, a cherry, and assorted toppings (sprinkles, nuts, etc.), plus a bottle of water. I know, the water is kind of random, but appreciated. The promotional ads say to collect all 30, but I honestly can't picture myself eating 30 sundaes this summer. I mean...if they were gelato, maybe. lol

Hitting the Batting Cages at Chelsea Piers

Train ride to Chelsea Piers? $2.25
Ten swings at soft slow balls? $2.50
Two strained wrists + a banged up finger + an inability to grip anything with my right hand + sore back muscles? Priceless...or the price of a hospital visit—one or the other.

I may have previously expressed a love for baseball. Of course, being athletically challenged, I can't exactly join a neighborhood league or play a friendly game with a few friends. But I've always thought going to the batting cages could be a fun alternative. I'm not expected to run any long distances and there's no possibility of spraining an ankle or bruising my knees sliding into 3rd. The ground is clearly marked for where you need to stand, so there's no chance I'll get hit by a stray ball. And there's netting surrounding you on all four sides, so you couldn't possibly hit anyone. But, as it happens, there are still a few hazards.

It hurts more than you would imagine. 

First off, if you don't know how to hold a bat—and don't expect anyone to volunteer to teach you—your improper posture will cost you. Once your bat connects with the ball, if you can manage to hit it, it feels like an earthquake running from your hands to your shoulder. For the 5 seconds you feel accomplished by your amazing eye-hand coordination, you'll spend 4 days with aches and pains. Slow soft balls are supposed to be perfect for beginners. Clearly, I was delusional.

I guess there's three good things that came out of our weekend expedition:
1) I got to see if I was any good at baseball...and technically hitting 6 out of 10 balls makes me at least minor league material. lol
2) I now know that I won't be doing this for my birthday come December.
3) And I definitely won't be doing this on a date. Ever!

Chelsea Piers, W. 21 St. and 11th Ave.

FLASHBACK: Real Madrid game

The first sporting event I've ever been to was a Yankee game. Like most Americans, I'm a baseball fan. But I've always found soccer fascinating. Probably because I'm athletically challenged and the thought of me running and kicking simultaneously is laughable. Since NYU in Madrid was 1 block from the famous Santiago Bernabeu stadium, my soccer-playing roommate wanted to go to the adjoined mall and buy souvenirs. I tagged along out of boredom. Don't get me wrong. Madrid wasn't boring. The day had been filled with classes and I was in need of excitement. Once we got in the store, my eyes were flooded with how many possible things a brand could put their symbol on. Thongs. There are Real Madrid thongs! I avoided the racy section and bought a drawstring backsack and a water bottle-sized, cylinder-shaped purse for the tiny objects that get lost in my tote. She bought…a lot. Almost 300 euros worth, which apparently gets you 4 free tickets to a game.

Of course, I immediately started begging to be one of the lucky ones since there was five us in the house. Fortunately, one of my other roommates had an admirer who opted to tag along and buy her a ticket as well. (In theory, romantic, but in retrospect, the beginning of a very long, unwarranted and unreciprocated obsession.) We were set! Two Americans, 1 Dominican Black American, 1 Chinese American, 1 Chinese Peruvian American, and 1 Peruvian were about to have an adrenaline-fueled culture shock: a Spaniard soccer game.

Ok technically, it was just me. My four roommates were so busy taking pictures and trying to spot Beckham, they barely watched the game. And my roommate's Peruvian paramore was so busy staring at her and acting like he invented the game, he was barely paying attention. I, on the other hand, was immersed.

The Madrileños were pumped, singing lyrics I couldn't make out, swilling beers, and operatically declaring "GOOOAAAAALLLLL" whenever we scored. Think of a volume meter that goes from 1 to 10. Baseball is a 5. Soccer is a 10. Everything gets turned up. Cheering, jeering, and drinking. It was so intense that every time I heard British voices, fans of the opposing team, I froze, fearing that nearby Madrileños would catapult them off the stands.

The energy was addictive. Other students were at that game too and the next day, most of the student body was talking about meeting up at Retiro park, the Central Park of Madrid, and kicking a ball around. I was tempted. But I had homework and I was exhausted from weekend travel, so I couldn't. Plus, I didn't want to make an ass out of myself, so I passed. But I heard their amateur game was awesome. Madrileños joined in, and my sorority-girl friend Sam scraped her knees to the point of limping the next day, but even she said it was a memory worth making.

Now with the World Cup dominating Facebook, Twitter, and ESPN2, I'm starting to get the itch again. I'd love to go to Central Park with a few friends and kick the ball around, but…I'm trying to avoid any major medical bills. ;)

Baseball Game: Yankees vs. Phillies

I grew up about 14 blocks from Yankee Stadium. I am a Yankee fan through and through. So much so, that in high school two of my crushes lost MAJOR points for being Mets and White Sox fans. If they'd been Red Sox fans, they would've been deleted from existence. However, I've only ever been to 3 games. The first when I was like 6, and I don't remember anything. That's why I was excited when I heard that one of the perks of attending NYU are the discount Yankee tickets. So during Senior spirit week, me and my Polish friend Anya went to see a game. Again, I have no recollection of who they were playing, but I do remember having an awesome time, despite the fact that it was drizzling and Anya got bored after the first five minutes. lol

Remembering that adrenaline high, I jumped at the chance to see another, asking one of my NYU friends to buy me tickets. They were sold out. :( So I resorted to StubHub.com. $33 later, I was sitting in the nosebleed seats in Left field with a good view of the JumboTron. Never have I been so afraid of heights in my life. Seriously, how do children not cry uncontrollably when they get there? Must be all the ice cream and french fries—which probably bring their parents to tears at $7+ prices. Yowza!

Me and my bff Alice are movie fiends. We figured we'd have downtime to watch a flick on her portable DVD player while watching the game. I don't know why. We were delusional. Normally baseball games are slow-going. Nothing like a soccer game or a football game. It's practically golf but with less walking and a whole lot of chanting. But by the 2nd inning, we were wrist-deep in a nail-biter. The Phillies loaded the bases and ended the inning with 4 runs on the scoreboard. New York was disheartened. And I, I was sick and tired of hearing Jay-Z songs every time ARod came up to bat. He doesn't deserve Jay-Z. NINE fucking innings and the only 3 runs were made my Posada and Cano. How is it that Jeter and ARod get paid the most? [Taking deep breath.]

The Phillies murdered us in innings 2 and 3, forcing the Yanks to switch pitchers to a rousing applause from the audience. By the 9th inning, fans were so over the game they were already leaving. The only way we'd win is if they followed the Phillies' initial tactic: loaded the bases and got one out of the park. The bases were loaded. We were at bat. Fans stopped leaving. They gathered around flat screens all over the stadium. And...NOTHING. So anti-climactic. Like a faulty magic trick.

I felt like someone had run over my dog. I don't have one, but still. It hurt. The $13 I spent on large fries and a small soda hurt. But this was excruciating. The only upside was that I paid for excitement and I got my money's worth.


Favorite part of the game: chanting and clapping, especially "hip-HIP!" "JORGE!!!!"
Least favorite part of the game (besides losing): when people would stand up and block the plate. Seriously, SIT. THE. F#@^. DOWN!
All in all…I'd watch another game. Next time, Yankees vs. Mets. Battle Royale!!