Went to the Tribe game last night, and I figured it all out. I know the secret. I know why C.C. is sucking worse than an Oreck with a hair ball.
It’s the damn wandering concessionaires.
They used to wear innocuous, cheerful shirts in primary yellow, which were sufficiently easy to spot and didn’t clash with the players’ uniforms. But some consultant, who was probably given a ridiculous sum of money and collection of Progressive cup-holder stickers, decided that the 80s are way back. Now the merry band of Ice Cold Beer Here!s are sporting shirts in the most obnoxious, glaringly ugly shades of neon yellow. Seriously, you could see the Cracker Jack guy from Endeavour, they’re so Day-Glo bright. Sitting in the bleachers, the shirts are so visible — from across the park! — that upon several occasions, my eye was actually drawn from the game into the stands. So it’s only logical to deduce that C.C. has been likewise distracted by the traveling splotches of that virulent hue.
These shirts are this year’s midges. Only this time they’re working against us. --
Tori Woods
