So I work downtown these days and I work late, long hours, which means if I miss the last bus home to Ditchmond, I’m either looking at a $40 cab fare or a few hours waiting for bus services to kick in again in the AM.

This means, on occasion, I’ll be meandering down Granville, looking for something to do, right when the locals are streaming out of the late closing watering holes. You do see some odd things at this time of the day…

Like this past weekend, when I was grabbing a slice at the insanely crowded pizza joint across from the Roxy.

The Roxy is always ballplayer central - it’s like every visiting team gets a handbook that says, "Vancouver drinking establishments; see Roxy, The." And that means that, as someone who follows the game in this town, I’ve seen ballplayers do a lot of things they shouldn’t be doing.

Like biting random women on the shoulder (big shout to the Dominicans!), or dodging the prowling daughters of host families (big ups, Benny Winslow!), or ‘not cheating’ on your girl back home (holla to 90% of the players that have ever turned out for the C’s).

But this past weekend I (and about 60 others) overheard the single greatest putdown of any big-mouthed ballplayer ever. It went something like this:

(Baseball fan notices baseball player at pizza place at 3am, looks a little long at him and baseball player notices he’s being watched) 

Yakima Bear: What are you looking at?
Baseball fan: Huh?
Yakima Bear: I said, what the f__k are you looking at?
Baseball fan: Dude, relax, I’m not looking at anything.
Yakima Bear: Quit staring, motherf___er!
Baseball fan: I’m not staring. What’s your problem?
Yakima Bear: You’re my f__king problem! What the f__k are you staring at?!
Baseball fan: A pitcher with an ERA over nine.

Yakima Bear blinks.

I nearly choke on my Hawaiian. Crowd goes "ooooooh." Ballplayer backs down.

And that, good ball fans, is how you deal with a drunken past-curfew Yakima Bears struggler who thinks Canadians are pussies. 

He pitched well the next day, though. So there’s that. 

No names. But if you’re really interested, you should be able to figure it out from the info above.

And so, as we always do here on Notes From The Nat when we celebrate the drunken and loud-mouthed of the world, I give you another look at Mark Kiger’s wife.

Didn’t spill one drop.

Respect.