Days like today are what helps keep me a jangling ball of nerves. It's not as if I don't have enough things that are potential ulcer inducers in my life; a sales job in a bad economy, imagining the first time Ciera says "this is my boyfriend, Dad" and two boys that are always seemingly one missed jump away from a visit to the Emergency Room.
So I look to the game of baseball, and more specifically the Boston Red Sox, as my stress reliever. Which if you know me is pretty funny, considering I spend the entire game pacing back and forth, screaming at the top of my lungs during day games and cursing under my breath at night.
Take today for instance. The game was supposed to start at 1:30 but thanks to Mother Nature, it was an hour later before the festivities commenced. Then Jon Lester gives the Sox 7+ innings and only allows 2 runs, the boys fight back and take a 3-2 lead before turning it over to Pap for the ninth.
1st batter? Struck him out.
2nd batter? Struck HIM out.
3rd batter walked, Coco misjudges a fly ball and all of a sudden it's all tied up.
Now, when you lead off an inning with a double, you sort of figure there is a pretty good chance that guy is gonna score, right? A sacrifice bunt here and a sac fly to RF there and it's all over but the party. Not only do the Sox lead off the 10th inning with a double, they led off the 11th and 12th inning with one as well. And NOT ONE of those 3 players ended up scoring.
By this point, Trot is up from his nap, Ciera is begging me to make dinner for her, and Ang is on the computer, supposedly paying bills. Of course I'd worked myself up into such a lather I just KNEW she was up there reading tmz.com while I'm downstairs losing my mind over the game, trying not to burn the macaroni and cheese, and keeping Trot from climbing on top of the playroom tv.
I should mention it's a good thing Rakes wasn't home during all this (My Pop took him to get a hot dog) because I was like Ray Liotta in that scene from "Goodfellas" where he's trying to make dinner, he's got his poor brother stirring sauce all day, and there are helicopters following him wherever he goes. I actually got a glimpse of myself in the mirror and thought about calling EMS, then realized if I did I'd miss the rest of the game. So I told myself there were worse ways to shuffle off this rock, regained some composure, and sat down.
Oh yeah; I'm pretty sure I yelled something about Tony LaRussa and his mother at the tv right around this time, but I'm not 100% certain.
Thankfully, Youk ended my misery with an absolute BOMB over the Green Monster in lucky inning number 13 and the Sox won 5-3.
With my voice sounding like I'd smoked a carton of Camels, my ears beet red from my elevated blood pressure, and my stomach feeling like I'd just rode Bodacious, I smiled the smile of the contented fan.
Just think; we get to do it all over again tomorrow night at 7.
Man, do I love this team.
What I Learned in September: 2014
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