Wednesdays game wasn't your usual Milwaukee Brewers contest.
No, no... they still lost. And, obviously, Travis Ishikawa managed to replicate the results of a slumping Ichiro Jones. The most sizable difference (well, two most sizable differences) between this Brewers/Reds rubber match and most other Miller Park home games was the person sitting just left of home plate in row one.
Hoping to capitalize on this phenomenon of assigned seating, this thing called Busted Coverage bought the seat Front Row Amy usually occupies and had the fucking balls to put ANOTHER ATTRACTIVE WOMAN IN AMY'S SEAT!!!
Quoth Busted Coverage:
"A few weeks ago while doing some research on the First Lady of Milwaukee baseball, we noticed that the infamous Front Row Amy was selling her seat to several Brewers’ games. She wouldn’t be attending. Had other plans. Suddenly the idea popped into my head. What if we replaced Front Row Amy with a hot chick of our choosing? How would Milwaukee react to a Playboy model sitting in Amy’s seat? Would there be a revolt?"
There was not a revolt. Maybe that was because the mid-week, afternoon game in early May wasn't televised, rendering all--we'll call it--planning for a shake-up for naught. But probably, it was because swapping one out-of-focus female fan's upper torso for another is meaningless. So good work, Busted Coverage. You've accomplished nothing.
Well, that's not entirely true. That poorly-thought promotion gives me the slightest window of timeliness to ask my beloved Brewer fan faithful once and for all... what's with this Front Row Amy business?
Before 800 of you direct your pent up sexual rage at me, allow me to clarify. I have absolutely nothing against "Front Row" Amy Williams. From what I know about her, she's a passionate, knowledgeable, devoted and uniquely-positive member of the Brewers fanbase. The team could benefit from having more fans with her spirit. She even keeps score for Christ's sake! And, yeah, she's very pretty.
What I do have a problem with, though, is the growing group of weirdos who've made Front Row Amy a household name around these parts, those who've contributed to all 2,000 minutes to what should've been 15 minutes of her fame, those whose obsession makes stupid Bro-motions like Wednesday's front row swap possible.
Maybe this makes me a Gaylord or whatever the proper homophobic terminology is these days, but when I turn on a Brewer game, I do so with the sole intent of watching a Brewer game. Fetching as Ms. Williams is (especially for a lady born in the 1960s!), nothing is gained or lost from her being in the front row. Call me crazy, but I'm more concerned with minor details like the score of the game, the latest ACL explosion, pitch counts, tavern of the game winners, that new fucker who horned his way into the Leinie's ads, drinking every time Rock says "bloop and a blast" and the myriad of everyday worries that manage to creep into my skull to even give a second thought to a woman in the stands.
Obviously, I'm in the minority, as Amy has accrued quite the fan base... even prompting special events and signings at shitty bars like The Bad Badger in Appleton. Again, I don't blame her a bit for capitalizing on the drool and boners of fellow fans. I'd do the same thing, likely with less tact.
I really hate to be so judgmental against the preferences of others, but I simply don't understand how the Front Row Amy phenomenon has both grown so huge and sustained this long. Call me old fashioned, but if I feel the need to squeeze off to some MILF's titties during a baseball broadcast, I'll pull up a Shayla Laveaux video on RedTube during a pitching change or something. You can literally see ANYTHING on the Internet--including boobs that aren't partially covered by a Brewers shirt. Better yet, you can make interpersonal moves in your life to better the chances a woman will permit you to actually touch her body.
Writing this has only perpetuated the legend of Front Row Amy. But if just one fan takes his or her fixation on blurry, clothed chest beefers looming in the front row and, instead, redirects that lust for Amy into hatred for that Happy Youngster dude, I've done my job.