By Gustavo Arellano
By Aimee Murillo
By Matt Coker
By Vickie Chang
By Matt Coker
By LP Hastings
By Michael Goldstein
By R. Scott Moxley
Illustration by Bob AulIt's summer, and that means it's pub-crawl time. But regular pub crawls—where you go to a bar, drink a drink, go to another bar and drink another drink—can get boring. Spice it up by making it competitive. Turn it into a game. Turn it into bar baseball.
The game is simple. Each bar is an inning, and each drink puts varying numbers of players on base. For instance, a pint of beer is a single. A cocktail is a triple, a shot of Jäger is a grand slam, and so on. Drinking water is a strikeout. Everybody keeps track of their score. Whoever comes in last pays for the cab ride home.
To show you how fun it can be, I entered a friendly bar baseball game one Saturday. Here's a play-by-play of all the exciting action so you, too, can start your own bar baseball league . . . and may God have mercy on your soul.
Schooner of Sierra Nevada: triple
It's a gorgeous sunny afternoon, and the place is packed. I order my schooner of Sierra and hang out with the rest of the group over by the pool tables. I don't know most of them, so I just listen. They talk about car wax. They mention how they want to see Dave Matthews and the next Jimmy Buffett concert. One woman named Jane talks about how she saw a guy fall off the top tier of Comiskey Park in Chicago.
Some of my friends are saying they're already feeling drunk, but I think these are just early-inning psych-outs. They're drinking schooners just like I am. Then I notice that Ted has finished his schooner and is drinking a pint. Drunk, my ass.
Shot of Jäger: grand slam
There's just a small crowd here. I despise Jägermeister, but it was either that or Goldschlager, which I've never had and didn't feel like trying.
The group is still pretty much on equal footing. Everyone orders a shot; everyone's score goes up the same. There's no way Ted is drunk. Buzzed, maybe, but he's the one to beat.
I talk to Bill, a guy in the group who wants to join the FBI. He's dating Jane, who saw the guy fall off Comiskey Park. He's from Boston and is still bitter about Bill Buckner in 1986. I tell him we have our own bad baseball memories from that year. He laughs and then tells me about a boat he bought for just $3,000.3:45 p.m.
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