I love baseball.  It’s pretty much the only sport I enjoy.  Well, that and dwarf tossing.  But my interest in dwarf tossing has kind of dissipated ever since I accidentally ingested a cocktail of creatine, psyllium husk and some kind of monkey tranquilizer and flew into a blind rage and tossed a dwarf through a fucking window.  I’m not proud of that moment.

As for baseball, my interest was sparked when I was in Little League.  Back then, I played left-field, which is a position the coach pretty much reserves for a fat kid or a fat kid with weak knees or, in my case, a fat kid with weak knees and a chronic bladder-control problem.  Suffice it to say, my burgeoning baseball career was pretty much stillborn since I got a total of two hits the entire season, despite getting on base nearly every game.  That’s because I got hit by the pitchers.

A lot.

After a season of getting pummeled by baseballs (which left welts all over my body the size of tumor-filled testicles), I decided to hang up my jockstrap and vicariously live through my favorite team, which, by default, happened to be the San Diego Padres.

And they sucked.


Like, down to the shaft hard.

And they still suck.  And although I’m not such a diehard fan that I’d slather on face-paint or anything, in the past I have delicately shaved my crotch in the shape of the “S.D.” logo and I did tattoo my left nut with a picture of the Friar mascot.  Sometimes if I get nice n’ sweaty and churn up enough duck butter, I can make it look like the Friar is being engulfed by a monstrous tsunami.  Anywho, the whole point of this rambling is that I’m a pretty big Padres fan, even though I don’t outwardly advertise it.

Also, I do frequent Petco Park often.  There’s nothing better in life than slapping down nine bucks for a Dixie cup of lukewarm Miller Lite and spending eight dollars on a stale bag of peanuts.  But, despite the overpriced food and drinks, Petco Park does have one thing going for it; semi-decent bathrooms.

With urinals and stalls.

You see, in all my worldly adventures, I’ve come to notice that many stadiums have implemented “piss troughs” in their men’s restrooms.  For those of you unfamiliar with piss troughs (or “urinal basins,” “pee tubs” and “piss trenches”), they are communal sinks that men line up along and piss into.  Now, I may be wrong, but I’ve been told that the origins of piss troughs date back to ancient Greek mythology, when Hephastadion (the Greek God of Circle Jerking), constructed these troughs for the Titans and Giants, since they commonly caused flash-floods with their wayward urination practices.

Anyway, you’ll find piss troughs in your finer, classier establishments; like in flophouse toilets or in my uncle Frank’s basement.  And, apparently, in many baseball stadiums.

So, just to detail my disturbing fascination with piss troughs even further, I’ve decided to construct a little play for your amusement.  The character of “Bathroom Designer” will be named “Jimmy” and the character of “Stadium Official” will be named “Bob.”

Bob:  Hey Jimmy, how’s the family doing?
Jimmy:  Well, my wife’s a whore and my son is addicted to crack.
Bob:  Fantastic!  Anyway, I was calling because I was looking at the bathroom plans and noticed that we only had stalls and sinks.
Jimmy:  Uh-huh.
Bob:  Well, something just doesn’t seem right.
Jimmy:  Uh-huh.
Bob:  We have all this room at our disposal and I just get the feeling that we should, you know, put something there.
Jimmy:  Uh-huh.  Like what?
Bob:  I don’t know.  I feel like we’re missing something.
Jimmy:  Okay.  Let me mull this over for a second.  (Thinks) Why don’t we just put a big fucking bucket in there.
Bob:  Jimmy, you’re a genius!

The End.

The moral of this little play is that piss-troughs scare the ever-loving crap out of me.  Normally I’d pay good money to have a strange man’s dick sweat flop onto my shirt and, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy pee mist wafting into my eyes as much as the next guy.  Unfortunately, I gave up watersports long ago, after my wetsuit started to stink.  But I digress…

A week ago the Padres were the team with the worst record in the majors.  As of two days ago, they were the second-worst team in the majors.  Maybe by the time this blog is posted, they will be the third-worst team in the majors.

Go Padres!