Monday, July 11, 2005

Third row



This was my view of the Sox game on Friday night. Dare I say- Amazing! The best part was that the seats were free and I had a parking pass. Well worth the 2+ hours I sat in traffic to get there. I was surrounded by Sox fans of all ages, with the exception of two O's fans that loved us. I pride myself on getting random candid photos, so during an Orioles pitching change I kept calling out to David Ortiz on first base. I sat there with my camera phone ready, screaming "Papi," "David," "Ortiz," whatever I could think of to get him to look at me. My pleas elicited the support of surrounding Red Sox fans who joined in the cause. "Come on David, she wants your picture!" "David, look over here!" The whole section chanting in chorus. Finally David Ortiz turned his head and looked right at me. Right at ME! He cocked his hips and pointed towards me with both hands. His playful smile gleamed in my direction. There it was my perfect photo. The photo that every Red Sox fan dreams of taking. And my phone turned off. Yup, no shot. No trophy to show off my victory. Nothing.

I'm gonna be thinking about that one for a long time.

This game there was no drinking. To be honest I was still a little hurting from the night before. My thinking was not clouded by BLB's. No drunken visions to haze my judgment. Therefore my experience Friday confirmed my thesis that all O's fans are rednecks. Case in point were the two O's fans that sat in the row ahead of us. The Sox were kicking some scrawny little bird ass the whole game and there was a lot of cheering going on from every direction. The two ten year olds behind us, the couple next to us, and the drunk guys in front of them, all cheering loudly and proudly for the Old Towne Team. So Cleatus decides to turn around in the fifth and ask the three twenty-something women to "tone it down a little bit because we are hurting his ears." What?!? You might be twenty-five, you are at a baseball game, and you are claiming that your ears hurt? We were not stretching the limits of normal baseball cheering. I wasn't even drinking!! "Are you kidding?" my friend asked with a big smile on her face. Nope- not kidding. Now, in most social circumstances I am pretty mellow. I don't seek out trouble, and I generally mind my own business. But when you behave like an obnoxious moron, I will respond in kind. He asked for it, so I brought it. I'm sure he was relieved whenever someone near us started cheering and I said that they should be quieter, while pointing at Cleatus, because his ears hurt. Or, I bet he loved that I called a few people and, in my softest voice, asked them how ridiculous it was that a guy at a game asked three women to be a little quieter. His friend was visibly embarrassed by him so it just made the situation so much better. Rednecks. Whiney little rednecks that have no place in the Al east, and definitely do not deserve a ballpark as nice as Camden Yards.

I know, I am just bitter cause I can't get to Fenway as often as I would like. I have been to about 20 games this year, three last week alone, and none at Fenway. Weird. I also can't help that not everyone is born in New England and get to claim the World Champion Boston Red Sox as their hometown team. We are the lucky ones. And we are not afraid to remind them of that.

Word.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

You think that is bad, I was at a Madonna concert and the guy behind us kept fucking tapping us on the shoulder and telling us to sit down and stop dancing- at a fucking concert, a madonna concert. Oy.
Anyway I'm reading your blog now instead of working- favor for you. So do me a favor and finish the book- I'm dying for someone to talk to about it, I have theories and they need discussin.

number4of5 said...

Thanks for the "favor," I am truely indebted to you.

I have heard your theories now and they are good. Not great, but good. I don't want to spoil anything here so I will not write more about it.

She better hurry her ass up and write the 7th one.