It was a lovely summer day, and the sun was shining on two young boys playing baseball.
"I am the greatest hitter of all time!" cried the first boy.
The second boy beat him to death with an aluminum bat.
This was Game 7 of the World Series: The pitcher went into his windup, and the runner on first broke for second. The Catcher flew out of his crouch and fired the ball to the second baseman, who dropped it before the runner slid safe into the bag.
“OUT!” called the Umpire, and the Manager was so furious he came running out of the dugout, cursing a blue streak and kicking dirt. The Umpire screamed back at him, spitting in his face. The Manager’s face turned bright red, and he was speaking in Spontaneous Profanity, creating new curses as fast as his lips could move.
The Umpire pulled a handgun out of his pocket, waving it at the position players and- tell me how this ends I have to go the bathroom!
A girl wanted to join the baseball team.
"You cannot join the baseball team," said Johnny, "you are a girl."
Later that day she got her first period.
An Old Man was telling a group of children about the greatest baseball player he had ever seen.
"Mickey Mantle once hit a ball so high it has never come down!"
The kids wandered off to eat ketchup packets that they found in the parking lot.
It was the top of the twenty-second inning, and the home team had run out of position players. The Manager- desperate- decided to pull a fan from the stands. He walked up to Dewey Mufchuk- an accountant in the first row- and whispered quietly.
“How would you like to pinch-hit?”
Dewy beamed, nodding, and climbed over the rail and down the dugout steps, where the batboys helped him into a uniform. This had been Dewey’s dream since as far back as he could remember! As a kid he had fantasized about being in a Major League game and getting a hit- heck, just making contact with the ball would be a story he could tell the rest of his life.
Dewey died in the on-deck circle when a congenital heart defect caused an intergalactic embolism.
The game was called on account of Irony.
A woman was selling tickets to a baseball game.
A young boy walked up to her and asked how much they cost.
"Nine dollars," said the woman.
It was the first day of little league, and Cheebo had come to the ballpark straight from school. He put on his uniform and pulled his stirrups high, he put on his eye-black and pounded his broken-in glove, he filled his cheek with Big League Chew and walked to the mound.
The batter stepped into the box and Cheebo went into his windup. He threw a fastball- 87 miles an hour- but tore his rotator cuff, the sound of ripping muscle loud enough to quiet the players and fans.
The Coach came out to examine Cheebo’s arm, and in a moment he was laughing uproariously.
“What’s so funny?” asked Cheebo.
The Coach was laughing so hard he could barely speak. “You’ll never pitch again,” he said, doubling over and holding his stomach.
Did I forget to mention that the Coach was psychotic?
An Old Man took his Grandson to a game at Yankee Stadium.
"When I die," he said, "I want you to scatter my ashes right here."
"Grandpa," said the boy, "shut the fuck up."
Two brothers were arguing over whether they should go fishing or play baseball.
They compromised by raping a homeless woman.
A father and son went to a baseball game.
“Today I’m going to catch a foul ball,” boasted the Father, “and when I do I will give it to you!”
For seven innings they watched the game from the upper deck, keeping score and eating peanuts. Then, in the bottom of the eighth, the shortstop fouled a ball directly at them, and the Father leapt to catch it, falling forty feet over the rail and cracking his skull on the pavement below.
“Hot dogs!” called the hot dog vendor.
The boy took out his wallet, “One, please.”