In honor of Tommy Glavine's 300th win (WOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!) I have decided to compose a post about what has been a dream of mine for a long time. Becoming a baseball wife. Did you n otice how many time's during the Milwaukee game that they panned on Glavine's cute wife and cute kids (not so cute when she realized the win wouldn't be his and that the Mets would eventually blow the game anyway...God when they suck, they suck). I would say she was on screen at least 14 times. Minimum.
So If I could be a baseball wife I would obviously do so by marrying a Met. But you are wondering...which Met would you choose Jonesy???? One would initially think I would go for one David Wright...BUT...I would have to pass on his hot ass (don't fret, more on this later). Instead, I would use my time machine and marry Keith Hernandez. First off, He had a sexy 'stache and a mullet, a combination I couldn't resist. And he was a solid Met. Also, In marrying Keith, I could get to meet the cast of Seinfeld and talk to Julia Louis-Dryfuss about her hair and prevent the Benes' from even taking over NYC. (WHY IS THE HAIRDO STILL POPULAR?!!!)
Eventually, I wouldn't love Keith anymore. There would be fights and perhaps an angry affair with Cowbell Man and he would cry and I would leave. And go straight to Mike Piazza's house. This way, all of his gaay rumours would be nipped in bud since, c'mon, Piazza can't be gay, he stole Keith's wife from him and she's smokin' hot! And I would continue to sit on my seats at Shea and stare at my boy's hot heiny. And I would still have a man with a rocking mullet and 'stache! WOOT! Oh, and you know I will dress a little trashy, like half-Anna Benson, half-First-Lady. It will be so hot!
While in the stands at Shea, I would live off the Kahn's hotdogs (it's the 90's remember-pre-Nathan's) and Carvel in plastic hats. I would attend EVERY single game, except for one week when I have my baby, Michael Jr. Who, on his birthday will be asked to throw out he 1st pitch to his Daddy. Cute right???? Also, I would beat ALyssa Milano to the punch and design my own line of lady sportswear to wear to games so most of the women don't end up wearing pink Mets crap (stupid and nonsensical unless are a baby girl) or looking like the antithesis of femininity.
At this time I would also have a brief fling with Turk Wendell. If only to get him to let me put that necklace of teeth on while we were doing it so it felt like caveman sex.
Flash forward to the end of 2005 where we get divorced as he files for free agency. And I file for divorce. By now, I need a break from the married life but I still need to inspire my boys (and get free tickets...) so I take a new route. I become Susan Sarandon in bull Durham and make every player want me, including LoDuca, who we know, only likes 18 year-old girls. I access to the locker room am required to attend all away games. After all, I have my little time machine so I am as hot as I was in the 1980s.
Finally, after a long career as a baseball wife/hussy, I decide to settle down when Mr. David Wright proposes. We get married at home plate and then, wearing number 69 (which they eventually retire for me for undisclosed reasons), I throw out the first pitch to fireworks and free hotdogs for all.
That night, The Mets beat the Yankess 100-0, and A-Rod and Jeter have gay sex on the pitchers mound for all to see.