Merry Opening Day!
A little red, a little white, a few G-dub tears, it’s like Christmas!
Opening Day: Chapter 1
3:55. Arrive at bar.
Get out computer. After all, I am a writer, and it’s not 5 p.m. yet. Must look the part.
Get text from bar friend. Bar friend that always meets me here. Bar friend that is ALWAYS here.
“Yeah, I have plans,” she said.
It is Opening Day, I said.
Not for me, she said.
We talked about this, I said.
Whatever, she said.
Okay, I said, rolling with the punches. I’m a punch roller. Apparently we on the mountain have skewed priorities. Whatever. It’s not like I haven’t talked about this EVERY day for the past um… year or anything.
Oh, Lauren, bartender said, it’s on ESPN. If the Phillies game rolls over, you’ll miss the first few.
Miss the first few?
And that’s how I was a Phillies fan for ten minutes.
It’s cool. No extra innings. We’re fine.
It is now 4 p.m.
I am at a bar by myself in a Youk jersey, and Opening Day 2010 t-shirt, a Sox scarf and a Sox headband.
I see two Stankees caps.
This could be very bad for me.
There’s a guy at the bar that I recognize. I think he’s the one who hit on me with a sonnet last year.
Must take cell phone picture for facial comparison later.
Just texted back up friend. I have friends, after all. Say, come to the bar. There’s whiskey.
Friend is suspicious. Send back friendly, super awesome text. Careful not to mention Red Sox.
Why do I want you to come to a bar at 4 p.m.? Because that’s what time they serve whiskey, you silly goose.
Do not get response. Does this mean it worked?
I look quite studious with my laptop. I should invest in glasses.
Stop staring at me, creepy guy at bar whose name I can’t remember.
See, I actually had a plan this year. Actually had a promissory (is that the word?) agreement with guy to watch game. After all, I watched lots and lots of basketball. Lots and lots. Have I mentioned how I feel about basketball?
But, plans change. And you all know by now how not bitter I get.
Stay tuned for updates from my sad, solitary Opening Day Party. Happy Opening Day to me. G-dub’s in the crowd and- it’s dropped! Did you just see that? Hah, Texas, CF. I thought they were going to run into each other. But missing the ball completely is fine too.
Yes, let’s replay that a few times. Yes….
Chapter 2: Opening Day
4:17 p.m. I am in love with Kevin Youkilis. Love-love. You make my heart sing.
Chapter 3: Opening Day
4:21. Lester, you’re 27? I’m 27. Let’s be friends.
Oh, Jonny boy. Really? Really? I need a moment. Or more whiskey. 2-1 Boston. “Smiles all around, that brought the Texas dugout back to life….” Shove it.
Chapter 4: Opening Day
So, Texas has two homeruns, I have two shots and K-Youk has one hell of a throwing arm. 2-2. 4:41 p.m.
Chapter 5: Opening Day
I’m not sure, but I think they’re trying to juggle. WE PAID MONEY FOR YOU. Where is my whiskey? 4:47
4:57. Mexican Masher. This is your initiation. Bases loaded (thanks, Youkie GOW). Mash already! Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Isn’t that what you did in Tampa? It’s warm in Texas. Like Tampa. Warm up that bat, buddy.
Yes. Okay. We will be friends. Expect your bracelet within 3-10 days.
Good job, Tito. Note: Must think of clever Gonzalez puns. 5 p.m. 4-2. Boston. Just got a text from Michael: “Adrian Gonzalez has more RBIs than he does At-Bats.” Yay.
Adrian Beltre, I kind of miss you…
Okay. Bottom of the fourth and Lester’s getting a bit flaky. Homeruns aside, he’s making me nervous. Take note, Tito.
Anyone else annoyed with the commentators more than usual?
Okay. That was homerun number 3. Game over, Lester. Better luck next week.
Right, Tito? Right? At least come out of the dugout for a minilecture. Please? React? Something? Clearly our focus is not on not giving up homers. Hello, Tito? Are you reading this? Because you should be. 5:29.
Remember that time Jacoby stole home? Pettite’s face? That was a great day. He just stole second. It’s a start. Jacoby and Masher seem to be getting the most action. Interesting since Crawford’s supposed to be the game’s big gun./mvp/super star/god. Hmm. 5-4…. Tx. 5:41 p.m.
Hot guy I’ve been talking to casually for… oh… three months now:
“You’re a Red Sox fan?” Surprise.
“Learn something new about you every day.”
Hmmm. What gave it away? The car? The jersey? The sour disposition toward yankee hats? The blantant billboarding? The intense anger at Jon Lester? The fact that I’m sloshed and it’s 5:45? Please don’t read this.
What the hell is Tuaca, anyway? 5:54.
Not as freaked out by Papi as I was last year. Confident he’ll pull it together. Just not in Texas.
Actually feeling pretty good, despite the 4-5 Texas crapfest. Maybe it’s the liquor. Maybe it’s Chapter 9. Maybe it’s the fact that I am no longer the pathetic alone girl at the bar in a jersey. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s faith that after the stretch, we’ve got this. You’re right. It’s probably the whiskey. 6:02. This is a long post. Do you like long posts?
Explain to me why it’s the 6th inning and Lester is still pitching? Explain this to me, Young. 6:17.
How many pitchers does it take to not suck, Reyes?
Lester, we’re going to have a psychic conversation about this later.
And Tuaca, in case you were wondering, is DISGUSTING. 6:47 p.m.
Big Papi. Ohmygod. I’m okay. I think that was a tear. I’m okay. Jeb is here and I think I’m freaking him out. Ohmygod, Papi, this. This is why I named my first born puppy after you. 7:01.
7:13. 7-5. Tx. Do you ever think that the game is more important to you than it is to Tito? I don’t think he’s really considering my feelings.
Yes, I’m happy you can still chew your gum. It’s great that you have the concentration to still do that. Know what, Bard? This is why you were part of my fantasy trade for Cliff Lee. You, Dice-K, Jed Lowrie…
7:17. 8-5 and I am full of hate.
7:19. I don’t even care. It’s only the 8th inning. I don’t even care. We’re fine. We’re fricking fine. Where’s the whiskey?
You’re playing with me, aren’t you Bard? This is this April Fool’s Day thing Papelbon put you up to, isn’t it? It’s peer pressure.
And Crawford, you could have fricking caught that.
“I don’t see how you don’t have a heart attack,” Jeb said, “Are you like this every single game?”
Frick on a stick. You know who would have fricking had that? JD fricking Drew, that’s who. 7:23.
Tim Wakefield. Ohmygod, Tim, do you see what they’re doing to us? Fix it Tim. Fix it good. Knuckleball the hell out of that guy.
Okay, let’s go over the definition of “knuckleball the hell out of that guy.” 7:27. 9-5. Tx.
Chapter… um… 16?
“You are losing to George Bush,” Jeb said. “That makes it worse, doesn’t it? He’s laughing.” 7:36. 2 outs.
Scarlet says tomorrow is another day. That’s from Gone With the Wind. That’s a movie.