I went to my first ever Red Sox/Yankees game on Saturday. The sun was out, there was a breeze, we had yummy sandwiches at a little bistro on the way to the park. Really, all was right in the Fenway world.
My husband is part of a season-ticket split, and our seats are in left field, looking out over Manny Ramirez as he chews his cuticles and runs into the little door in the green monster to use the bathroom when things get slow. It’s my third season in these seats, so I feel like Manny is a friend of the family now. (Did I mention I had a pedicure right next to his wife right before my wedding? I’m telling you, we’re tight…) Despite his absurdities, Manny is lovable. He seems like someone who would be entertaining to have at a dinner party. The same with David Ortiz, Jason Varitek, Kevin Youkilis (without the chew). These guys, in addition to being phenomenally talented, are characters – they make it fun to be part of this whole Red Sox nation, even when the Yankees blow us out of the water four games in a row.
In baseball, following a particular team is a little like choosing a dysfunctional family to be part of. Given my druthers, I’ll take the one filled with colorful characters that give me funny things to talk about – like the nineteen-and-a-half minutes it takes Josh Beckett to throw a pitch – and have enough crazy talent to be always in the hunt, over a team with a few more wins and no personality. Because when the Yankees lose (and admittedly, that’s not often) all there is to do is complain about how they’re all overpaid. And that’s not fun at all.
In related news, the boys who created those “Yankees Suck” t-shirts pooled their pennies and headed for Baghdad. Here’s their story.
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