Sports

Gentrifying Gringo's Guide to Watching Mexico vs. South Africa in the Mission

— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |

24th is the best place for Soccer.

If you want to start a race war, rooting for South Africa tomorrow at 7am in the Mission is probably the most effective way to make that happen.  But if you just want to get drunk, watch an event as rare as a leap year and join in some global brotherhood, fill that flask full of tequila and/or strawberry smoothies (Cape Town has the most wonderful strawberry smoothies) and slosh around the Mission.  Chavitas #2 on 24th is probably a solid bet for continuing your thursday night bender/starting your bar crawl.  It's the best unpretentious breakfast place in the Mission, has plenty of beer to compliment your free chips and salsa and has a nice tube of a television.  Considering this place is always dead when I go there, I have no idea if it will actually be packed or not, but whatever.  The food is awesome and there is beer.

From there, you should ditch your weapons on the curb and head to El Trebol on 22nd and Capp.  The security guard will feel you up, which may tickle but deal with it, and you can order a bucket of Corona for PBR prices while getting hustled at pool.  Best of all is that you can urinate/puke/shit on my stoop afterwards.  It's a win-win for everybody.

Or you can just read Mission Loc@l and find out where you can rail lines while “watching” soccer.  I kid.  Delirium sounds like a great soccer venue.

Pop's First Annual Slam Dunk Contest: A Photo Journal

— By Patric Fallon |

This past Saturday, amidst sunny skies and blistering winds, Pop's Bar on 24th and York St. held its first annual Slam Dunk Contest, and it was awesome. The contestants gathered at the local dive around 4 p.m. or so to properly lubricate themselves before taking part in bar game history. There were costumes, there was a shirtless man, there was a girl, there was an ecstatic crowd, there were embarrassing falls and flops, and there were plenty of authoritative slam-fucking-dunks. Below is a set of choice photos from the proceedings.

Michaelangelo had some issues.

Why is that guy dressed like a pizza?!

There's that girl I was talking about.

Sometimes less clothing means more air.

Friends were helping friends.

One-Eyed Ron fucking owned the game.

Free Pete looking like a basketball card.

Does this kid got style or what?!

Nicknamed “GQ” by the crowd, this dunker rose above his name to deliver some serious dunks.

Seriously! Why is that guy wearing a pizza costume?!

Damn! Pizza got hops.

Get it in there, Ron!

GQ from the free-throw line!

Pizza wins 1st, GQ wins 2nd, and One-Eyed Ron gets 3rd!

Bay to Breakers Dance-Off: Hot Dog vs. Astronaut

— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |

Astronaut was killing it yesterday.  Boy showed up to a stoop party on Hayes around 9 and just kicked it dancing and drinking through a camelbak.  If you take a look, you’ll even see he’s actively drinking during the impromptu danceoff.  EPIC.

In other news, this carrot definitely was the costume of 2010:

And Alan snapped the photo of 2010:

Previously on Uptown Almanac: 

Cycle Ball

— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |

Someone sent this to me saying “UP/AL material?” and I replied, “Uh, I soooo saw that video years ago.”  Regardless of my pioneering You Tube exploration, it would be rad to see this in the Mission.  Bike Polo is fun to watch, but it isn’t as cutting edge as Cycle Ball.  Don’t you fools care about being cool?

Giants Games Really Need to be 21+

— By Kevin Montgomery (@kevinmonty) |

Every time you get admitted to a baseball game, the terrorists win.

San Francisco, is this a thing?  Last night marked my first trip to AT&T Park* and it was the first time I’ve seen so many high schoolers congregate in one place since I went to the Warped Tour when Blink 182 headlined (save your jokes).  Sitting in our ticketed seats and getting altitude sickness, a platoon of 12 kids from Fremont or some shit came rolling up, sat immediately behind us and spent the next 15 minutes yelling into their cellphones trying to find out where “my bitchaz” were.  I’m pretty convinced that entire group of people had nothing in common beyond finding out where their friends were.  I recognize my friends and I have nothing in common beyond getting ‘hella faded’ and pissing on houses neighboring Dolores Park, but that’s beside the point.  Look, I know your “Ridin’ Dirty” ringtone is “fucking tight,” but baseball games are as close to visible patriotism and church as I get, so just put away your goddamn phones and just focus on drinking that vodka you smuggled into the stadium.

Anyways, we eventually moved after resupplying with $9 beers and petzels to another row of seats.  About 20 minutes after we got there, another roving pack of post-puberty dogs descended upon us.  Tired, defeated and broken, we just sat there dealt with it (by way of snarky comments and more beer).

HIGHSCHOOL PROTIP: back in the day (8 years ago), we didn’t bother people at baseball games or in places people actually wanted to be.  No, we’d save the text messaging and blowjobs for the back row of Rob Schneider movies; far, far away from society.

HIGHSCHOOL PROTIP #2: If some guy turns around and says “If I just buy you some fucking beer, will you leave?” take the fucking offer.  1) Offers like that just don’t fall into your lap everyday.  2) He’s not trying to “creep on you,” he just thinks your that fucking annoying.  Plus, if I wanted to creep on children, I’d join the Catholic Church (ZING!)

* It’s not that I hate baseball, it’s that I’m from Boston and the first time you step into a stadium that isn’t Fenway when the Red Sox are not playing, you get your Charlie Card permanently revoked.

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