Ed. Note- Thanks to Shelley Holmgren for submitting this with the very apt headline, Shit Bitches Shouldn’t Wear At A Baseball Game. We at Cad T. Wasp notoriously hate pink jerseys (that aren’t for breast cancer awareness), but Shelley details proper female fan wear etiquette in more detail.
by: Shelley Holmgren
Baseball season is a sacred, holy time. I choose to observe it with the holiest of rituals: drinking excessively and going to ball games. However, there are times when I have to swig my drink ferociously in order to stomach some of the shit I see women wear to a game.
As a (mostly) logical woman and faithful baseball fan, I decided to educate other estrogen-prone creatures of ways they shouldn’t show up to a game or face the wrath of my stink eye.
1) Save the stilettos for your walk of shame, sister.
It blows my mind that I actually have to say this. Ladies. Don’t wear your damn heels to the game.
If you are like me, you plan on ingesting a fair amount (understatement) of ale while cheering on your guys. After that fourth beer, that flight of stairs will look more like Mt. Doom than a few short steps. You definitely don’t want to scale it wearing four-inch heels/devices of torture.
Although drinking several vodka lemonades will help you loose all sensation in your face, you will need a horse tranquilizer to numb the pain in your feet from wearing heels for nine innings.
I’m not saying don’t be feminine. You may be attending the game on a date and might want to get your male seduction on. Fight the urge to
wear a leather catsuit (save them for special occasions, like bar mitzvahs) or a ball gown or whatever ridiculous outfit you wear to prepare for a sexy time. My advice – just go casual. The best route to go is fitted player t-shirt and a pair of tight jeans that make your ass look like Beyonce’s. The jeans will do all the work for you and your date will reward you with various forms of physical contact and cheap beer. Let the romance begin.
2) Handle cleavage with care.
Don’t get me wrong – as a well-endowed woman, I know how much joy there is in displaying your assets like prized hams. Boobs are magnificent and should be shared. But know your limits when it comes to breast exposure at sporting events. I’m at the game to watch my guys kick ass, not to place bets on the probability of one your loose mammary glands slapping your date in the face.
But then again, what do I know? I’m just a girl that likes to whip out her sweater melons only for special occasions or when I owe a member of the male population an apology/money. If you want to wear an insanely low-cut shirt, have at it. Make sure to wave to your parents (and the parents of the young niños in the crowd) when you are featured on the jumbo screen. You’ll make them so proud. I’ll just be the woman sitting next to you, embarrassed to have ovaries.
This is a ball game. Not an audition for Bravo.
3) Remember, people spill shit.
Don’t show up wearing a 80-billion-thread-count silky blousey-thing and not expect it to get it stained. If Alexei Ramírez steals third, you will likely be sitting by someone who celebrates with a dance similar to an exorcism being performed. You’re not going to want to be wearing expensive threads when someone knocks into you and obliterates you with concessions. And trust me, that shit ain’t going to come out.
Also remember: If you are a true classy woman like I am, you plan on making sweet, tender love to a fully-loaded ball park brat with your mouth. There is no way to consume delicious smoked meats without there being some wardrobe casualties. It’s not worth it otherwise.
4) Know your player.
If I show up in a Sox game clad in my Pierzynski jersey, I’m going to be able to tell you his position, his stats, his batting preference, his sexual preference (OK, maybe too far … probably … nah). Regardless of A.J.’s impending restraining order against me, he is my guy. Don’t show up to a game wearing a jersey for a player you know nothing about. Show some respect, yo.
5) Respect the game.
This is just a nugget of general knowledge – don’t be on your damn smart phone the whole time. Going to a game is a sacred act. If I see you playing DrawSomething through a double-play, I will slap the phone out of your hand. Probably. If I didn’t cherish my beer so much, I’d possibly try to spill my drink on you at least. (I swear, I’m usually not a belligerent drunk.)
And one last piece of fashion advice: You will never be taken as a serious fan, let alone a serious human being, if you wear a tube top.
Have some self-respect.