Welcome to this, the first Ben’s Biz Blog post since the conclusion of the regular season. Sooner or later, there will be a day of reckoning when I am forced to come to terms with the fact that I have very little to write about.
But since days of reckoning are painful, I will delay such an occurrence for as long as possible by blogging as if games were still going on. And here’s where YOU come in: send me photos/stories/recaps/anecdotes/animated re-enactments/interpretative dance/hieroglyphics/etc etc etc etc from the 2009 season. When it comes to the postponement of the inevitable my desire is steadfast, but I can’t go it alone.
Yesterday I received an email related to the Binghamton Mets nightly Spiedie Race, which I covered in great detail last season (culminating in a post featuring heartbroken children, inexplicable rooftop cameos, and relievers moonlighting as pink gorillas).
(A Spiedie, for those who don’t know, is an upstate Binghamton delicacy. Essentially, it is marinated cubes of chicken or pork served on a roll).
Well, I am pleased to report that the Spiedie insanity continued unabated into 2009. Heading into the final day of the season, Chef, Marinade, and Spiedie were tied at 21 wins apiece. This set up an epic winner-take-all match, which quickly degenerated into a monstrous theater of the absurd. Observe:
So, to recap: Chef is knocked out by Space Ghost, while Marinade is felled by the tag team tandem of Bingo the Bee and “Clubhouse Manager” (a promising new addition to the B-Mets’ mascot universe). This makes Spiedie Sandwich the 2009 champion, prompting the on-field MC to mumble “My glasses are broken” before his mic cuts out.
A few miscellaneous photos of additional 2009 Spiedie Race action. Here’s a close-up of Chef and Spiedie:
Chef tries to cook up a little something, while in the foreground one can detect the presence of a presumably jealous bumblebee:
Heads Together (which was, incidentally, the name of a video store I used to work at in Pittsburgh):
The post is already quite long, so I should draw it to a close in the interest of parceling out my material more effectively. But, like the Spiedie Sandwich, I am on a roll. Therefore, let’s take a look at another recent Binghamton innovation — “Howl at the Moon Night”. Writes B-Mets director of video production Jon Cofer:
“Our original intent was to set a world record, but Guinness declined our request, so instead we just had our fans howl at the moon to earn the second half of our double-grand finale during the fireworks. Either people really like to howl, or they really wanted that double-grand finale, because it got pretty loud.”
Excellent — until now, I had never envisioned Minor League Baseball stadiums as a place to get in touch with bestial urges and primal instincts. The lesson, once again, is that the possibilities, they are endless…