(Part 2/5. Much as I'd love to write about how fucking awesome the Red Sox are performing, the 500th sell-out festivities and that moment of child-like joy between Jason Bay and Bobby Orr, and the delusion I'm getting that we're somehow going to be able to fleece a catcher off the Rangers for Brad Penny and a C-prospect, this catalogs are fucking hilarious.)
Look, just because everyone hates the Yankees doesn't make it a good idea for any and every American League team to claim them as a "rivalry." Unless this shirt is not a shirt at all, but rather a 70% lead garment/weapon you can use to beat the octogenarian New York transplants into silence, this is dumb.
("Beat New York." Like, Beat New Yorkers. Get it! Huh? Hey, where'd you go?)
Three interlocking Rays rings. Why three? Cheap engagement ring he promises he'll replace once he gets his next paycheck, marriage ring you accept reluctantly, failed reconciliation gift. Seriously, this ring is sadder than the Hal McCrae years.
Your infant is not a fan of the Rays. She is a fan of breast milk, being burped, and that squeaky funny voice Da-da does, and branding your kid a Rays fan is about as natural as branding it a Republican. And you need to do something about that organic scent coming from your organic fan, too. This is an indoor stadium.
Back side of the frame reads, "And born to move to Vegas/Portland/San Jose in 5 years!"
"Huh. You have a blown-up ticket on your wall."
"Yeah, man, isn't it fuckin' sweet?"
"Yeah. Yeah. To an August game between the Devil Rays and the Indians. Huh. Is this pop art or something?"
"No way, dude, it wasn't just any August game, man."
"Well, the Rays sucked then, so it couldn't have meant that much. Um...were you there? Did they lose by some amazing number of runs? Did you meet your ex-girlfriend on August 7, 1999?"
"Nah, dude, I met Shawnee in the Sonic parking lot after a Jackyl show."
"Wade fucking Boggs, man."
"He played for Tampa Bay?" (Beat.) "Do you have that fifty bucks you owe me?"
At last, the carrying ability of a plate, the spinning sensation of vertigo, and the jarring explosive sensation of having your head ripped apart, all at once! What a deal!
You know, just because you can create a hat almost uglier than the original Rainbow Warrior team lids doesn't mean you should. One nice element: the arrows, which direct you to exactly where on the forehead to punch the head that dares wear this.
Rejected front of hat design: "Tampa Bay Rays: 2nd Place in 2008!"
Rejected back of hat element, in red lettering: "Tampa Bay 1, Philadelphia 4"
Seriously, I'm not belittling the Rays' accomplishment in 2008--they were certainly a frightening, frightening team when they were pummeling the Red Sox for 2.5 out of the 3 middle games of the ALCS--but people who wear League Champions hats wear Wild Card Champions hat, as though there is a championship of 2nd.
The notable feature here, in case you didn't notice, is the Removablity of the logo panel. This way, when you come to your senses, or at least get on another bandwagon when your team misses the playoffs, you can remove the Rays logo, trash it along with the baby Rays crap your kid outgrew, sit your big ass back on your bare recliner, and get on with your life.
In a matter of speaking.