The More Things Change...

Two minutes into arriving at Gate 9 and hooking up with my friend Beast (*pictured) today, I knew that nothing had changed.

You would think two years and life would make it a little difficult to fall right back into that old flow wouldn't you? Silly you...

It was like the whole moving to Newfoundland never took place, other than the fact that we talked about my move and life in Newfoundland right off the bat. But you know what I mean.

Witty, entertaining banter with Beast isn't the only thing that hasn't changed in the two years since I last frequented Toronto.

Street meat out front of the Dome is still one of my favourite delicacies in the world. All beef dog, egg bun, lots of mustard. Golden.

Toronto sports fans are still as annoying in person as I remember them being too. We had a collection of know it all wannabes behind us all afternoon who critiqued every pitch and discussed the production of their fantasy lineups all game long. This wouldn't have been bad, except for the fact that they didn't know shit and just kept tossing out douchebag cliche after douchebag cliche, including all the requisite pseudo-cool guy poseur comments about good looking women and how it's not the same sitting amongst the common people instead of being in a box.

Trust me, everyone in the section would have loved for you to have been in a box!

Josie Dye on 102.1 The Edge is still awful. Honestly, she might be the worst DJ in the world. It's as if she enjoys listening to herself, so she never shuts up and what she does say usually contains mistakes. Not as bad as the guy on some nobody station introducing the latest from Millie Cyrus today, but still.

Traffic out of "The City" is still a pain in my ass too. 3 hours from Dome to Home... Garbage! Not that the drive will stop me from making routine trips to the Rogers Centre this season or anything. It'll just be something I complain about every time I go, that's all.

Most of all, the experience of live baseball hasn't changed, both the game itself and how much I love it.

The crack of the bat.
Watching a curveball curve and a slider slide from behind the plate.
The Jays failing to score a run with the bases loaded on two separate occasions.
Beast's insistence that he could hit an 85 mph fastball if he knew it was coming.

Nothing has changed... and that's just the way I like it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Okay, so the picture isn't Beast.
It's Jack Black.
But it could be Beast.
I honestly think they're twins who were separated at birth, which would either make Beast 38 or Jack Black 29...

Go Beast Go!