We've had a nonstop flood of shit news for a while now and I am pretty confident that none of that is stopping any time soon. But I wanted to get a quick blog up about one of the best bars, and definitely the best baseball bar, I have ever been to considering this is BARSTOOL SPORTS (Wow this blog fits both of those words, huh?). Anyway, the amount of autographed baseballs, pieces of memorabilia, and artifacts were straight out of a baseball fan's wet dream.
I know this is weird but during my first visit after I got my bearings following the overload of baseball memories so thick that I had to brush them from my face, I remember thinking that even the urinals were high society (which I guess were brought in from the Waldorf-Astoria).
Foley's was pretty much if the Baseball Hall of Fame stopped being such a stuffy son of a bitch, moved from Cooperstown to NYC, let down its hair, and developed a casual drinking habit. On this week's We Gotta Believe, KFC and I talked about how we will be the prototypical old crusty baseball fans that continue to watch the game until our dying days no matter how much the Powers That Be try to screw up the sport we grew up loving, which was a great way to describe a good chunk of the crowd at Foley's on any given night. New York City is a baseball town the same way Foley's was a baseball bar. Intense and awesome. In fact, the only beef I had with Foley's was that it was neighbors with that traitorous front-running bitch The Empire State Building.
Like Shaun said perfectly in his video, this is end of the inning but not the game for Foley's. Hopefully once the city bounces back from this coronavirus bullshit that has hit bars harder than a typical Mets bullpen outing, there will be a late inning rally to get it back on its feet along with many of the other small businesses being slammed by this shutdown.