When Fans stink as much as their Sox

I had a relatively smooth day at work. Just prior to leaving I fooled around on cnn.com a bit, checked my email. I couldn't bear to look at Boston.com and see what the sox score was. Ultimately I just slapped the ole Red Sox hat on my head and took off.

I was a bit tired, however not ready to head back to Melrose at the end of the day. I decided to get off at Downtown Crossing T stop. I made my way to Quincey Market and walked up and down the food marketplace a couple of times before settling on a couple slices of chicken and broccoli pizza from Pizzeria Regina's. I wolfed down my slices, slurped my carbonated beverage, and sat in a daze soaking in a performer who was singing a crappy, bastardized version of John Denver's "Annie's Song". He followed this with "She'll be coming around the mountain". He was quite an exceptional guitarist... good with the finger picking. He must have really paid attention to his Esteban tutorial he purchased on late night UPN.

Next I left the market and was enjoying people watching.. women in tank tops, business folks undoing the top buttons of those Oxford shirts, and of course tourists.

On my way to Haymarket station to pick up the Orange Line I passed by that strip of the main stream Irish pubs that seem to always be mobbed at all times of day. The purple shamrock was all opened up to the sidewalk. Low and behold it was the sixth inning and I stopped to see the Red Sox in the process of loading the bases displayed on the numerous plasma screen TVs. It is the greatest amount of time I have ever spent at The Purple Shamrock... I'll probably keep it that way.

I'll be the first to admit that there are two types of Red Sox fans.... the blindly proud, and the infatuated cynics. I'm definitely the latter. I always expect the worst, however there is that little bit of naivete in me that makes hope and dream, like a little girl that wants her ugly doll to suddenly become beautiful.

I really thought I was about to witness a historic & memorable moment in the Red Sox legacy. I watched the crowd outside build and build. I watched Varitek, then Graffanino, in epic battles. Both achieved a full count with the bases loaded. Both of them proceeded to strike out. I have to give them credit for a valiant effort.

At some point they cut for commercial break and I began watching this waitress run diligently about trying to keep all of her patrons happy. I was rather blankly admiring her lovely.... Suddenly the game comes back on.

Johnny Damon.... the lord himself is up to bat. At this pivotal moment for whatever reason first some dude that is about 6'5" decides he must stand in front of everyone to get a closer view. Slightly irritated I move to the side about six inches. At this point I think the count was 1 and 1.

To my great pleasure, another guy... I'm guessing anywhere between 22 and my age, suddenly begins bobbing all around me to my left. I reciprocate and bob out of the way trying to watch the game and listen to the crappy playoff commentators. It continues... I've lost track of the pitches now so I look over to see what the problem is. The guy is on his tip toes looking at the top of my baseball cap. He sees the large red B. Satisfied he exclaims... "Oh it had better have been that..." I try to continue watching this intense moment of the game. "I thought you might have been wearing a Yankees cap" Irritated by this accusation I avert my eyes long enough to give him that sort of indignant raised eyebrow look that says "What the hell!?"

As I am being forced to observe this guy that feels the need to bother me... I realize that his testicles are so big they are resting on the uneven cobblestones below. I cautiously take a step back. I wouldn't want to accidentally step on one of them.

My testosterone laden acquaintence continues talking, "I would have really hated if you were wearing a Yankees hat"

I can see him checking it again to make sure it hasn't suddenly changed... or that his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. At this point I make a mistake. I respond "We aren't playing the Yankees right now lets concentrate on the white sox."

Miraculously Damon's still up to bat. I think I must have done something to give myself some bad karma because this moment is dragging. Now I see "Numb-nut's" eyes dilate and the pulse in his neck quicken. His face takes on a reddish hue... and as he begins talking I smell a combination of schnapps and beer which I swear causes my open pores to tingle as he breaths on me. Apparently furious that I did not choose to ignore the game and start chanting "Yankees suck" he starts in on a tyrade. "I was born and raised blah blah blah..." I can't see the screen, I can't see the screen"and so don't even start with me... the Yankees suck... blah blah blah" Oh good... full count, it isn't over yet.....

Mr. Personality gets closer...I decide to segway him in hopes of redirecting his attention to what he claims is his life and salvation... even though he's more interested in territorial pissing with a pacifist.
"So the Yankees are playing the Angels tonight?" I exclaim as much as I am asking...
"Yeah they are losing too... the jerks" He proudly responds
This works, and finally he steps out of my line of sight... as this occurs I see Damon cut through the air like he was swinging a sickle. Strike three. Of course you may guess what happens next.
My "buddy" turns to me and says "look what you did, I knew I didn't want you standing next to me..." I should have laughed, i tried to smile... but as this dude just felt bent upon spreading his negative vibe on me like cream cheese on a bagel all I could think of was James Earl Jones whispering in my mind, "Your thoughts betray you, young skywalker" I put my best smirk on... and started to leave before the seventh... as I had planned.
"Have a good night! Go sox!" he says.
"Hey, you too.......Go sox!" I manage to enthusiastically warble in response.

Well there's always next year. I guess the white sox are overdue. Maybe the Yankees will lose to the Angels... if only (sigh).

I remembered I haven't bought the new Franz Ferdinand CD! I've been so distracted with work, jury duty, the redsox... and everything else I forgot it was released on the 4th. So I think I'm going to Newbury comics now. Perhaps it will cheer me up. I'm going to see them at the Orpheum next weekend so I must familiarize myself with the new material.

I will elaborate more on the jury duty and what not as soon as I find the time.

CHEERS!