Mariners Rule. Yankees Drool, and so do we.

Last night we found a way to enjoy a Mariners game-- get red-ass drunk and scream at the players for three hours.

This normally isn't our style. We much prefer to score the first few innings, sip on three dollar tea, and roll our eyes at whatever Hargrove does.

However, we were with old friends from out of town, the home town nine had just dropped eleven in a row, obnoxious Yankee fans were everywhere, and they were handing out official Mariners surrender towels upon entering the game.

Drink up.

Our non-stop hilarious commentary on the game mostly included verbal attacks on A-Rod (Nobody likes you and Jeter is better at everything.), Don Mattingly (Can we see your ring?), and our own pitcher Eric O'Flaherty. Partly because his name is fun to yell, partly because we had never heard of him, and partly because if your team has a guy named Eric O'Flaherty pitching in a late August game versus the Yankees, well, they're not getting ready to print playoff tickets.

The highlight of the night was when our friend, who was escorted out of the stadium by Alcohol Enforcement five minutes prior, convinced the same two officers who took him out to let him back in. Quite the feat considering he was wearing a surrender towel on his head, slurring his words, and blaming Eric O'Flaherty for all the wars in the world.

We laughed, we cheered, and we screamed our head off when Adrian Beltre hit the game-winning home run.

After signing autographs for our section mates, we joyously made our way down Occidental, jeering any non-threatening Yankee fans we could see. Take that 14-year old boy, you heard what I said guy who probably fought in World War II, hey 60-year old lady, I said Uncle, stop, that hurts.

The pain will most likely resume tonight, yet for one chilly August night there was fun and magic at the ballpark…spurred on by Knob Creek and beer.