How McCovey Cove Kayakers Can Get a Life

Great. Just great. The Padres came close but couldn’t complete a sweep of San Francisco last weekend, meaning the Giants have returned to the playoffs for the first time since 2003. So during every game played at AT&T Park this post-season, we’ll have to endure views of the dorks who get in their kayaks and paddle into McCovey Cove, hoping to retrieve a home run ball.

Nevermind that Barry Bonds is no longer on the team (meaning the chances of a home run flying that far are significantly diminished) and the majority of the aforementioned dorks appear to be decades past the point where they should have ceased getting all giddy about souvenir baseballs. You can be assured that come Thursday, guys like this will be out there in droves:

Ryan Klesko? Really? Don’t these people have anything better to do? Obviously not, so here are a few suggestions on how, at long last, they can all get a life.

Go Kayaking for Real

The McCovey Cove crew seems to think it’s exciting and fun to sit there for hours on end, waiting for a baseball to land in their laps. Clearly they’ve never done any real kayaking, white-water rafting, jet-skiing, or any other adrenaline-charged aquatic activity. They really should try any or all of these sometime. Doing so might give them an epiphany and make them realize that floating around like an ass-clown outside a baseball stadium is no way to spend an afternoon or evening.

Coach or Play Quarterback for the 49ers

Plunging into McCovey Cove when a baseball splashes down between kayaks and triumphantly raising it skyward when you successfully pry it from the grip of another kayaker is not something that most people consider serious competition. It certainly doesn’t compare to winning in the NFL—not that San Francisco’s football team would know anything about that this season. So before the 49ers are out of the playoff hunt completely, we encourage the kayakers to paddle back to dry land and throw their hats in the ring for the head coach and quarterback positions. Not even one of those goofballs could do a worse job than Mike Singletary or Alex Smith at this point.

Have a Near-Death Experience

No one who’s even remotely in touch with their own mortality would waste precious seconds of their lives doing what the McCovey Cove kayakers do (which is basically nothing). We suggest that instead they consider bungee jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge, stalking Patrick Willis and calling him a pussy when they see him on the street, or simply diving into the cove and bobbing up beneath a kayak, where they’ll be on the verge of drowning for a few seconds. Anything to make them realize that their way of “living” is no way to go through life.

Read the Entire Mitchell Report

Because Barry Bonds’ alleged use of performance-enhancing drugs helped create the McCovey Cove scene in the first place, kayakers should consider staying home and immersing themselves in all 409 pages of the document that exposes everything associated with baseball’s steroid era. Perhaps then they can realize what a sham the whole thing was and that going to such lengths to fetch home run balls is a pathetic undertaking indeed.

Escape from Alcatraz

Here’s a variation on the previous “real kayaking” suggestion, because anyone who is able to spend that much time in McCovey Cove is probably unemployed and unable to afford a trip to Colorado or Alaska. Fortunately, San Franciscans can keep it local and paddle on over to “The Rock” instead. Doing so after dark and staging a pretend prison break should provide enough danger to get kayakers’ blood pumping, assuming that child-like hero worship isn’t the only thing that does it for them anymore.

Become Gay

We’ll assume that the McCovey Cove kayakers aren’t homosexual, because we can’t imagine gay people having such low standards for their recreational time. They’d be wise to stay ashore, explore one of the world’s most gay-friendly cities and partake in everything it has to offer. Whatever it takes to get these dweebs out of the water and into a more meaningful existence.

Buy a Damn Ticket

Yeah, you heard us right. It’s sad that something so obvious needs to be spelled out, but remember who we’re dealing with—people who can’t wait for the next opportunity to fish an Aubrey Huff home run out of McCovey Cove. Did it ever occur to them that inside the park they’ll actually have opportunities to a.) interact with normal human beings and b.) catch even more baseballs in foul territory and over the left field wall? Oh wait. Tickets cost money and that Huff ball won’t bring five bucks on eBay. Nevermind.

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