"Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned but heaven hath no sweetness like a sports fan vindicated." - Samcat

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend

(photo from Yahoo! Sports)

So when Marianne says, “Do you guys want to take the weekend and go to Baltimore to boo the shit out of the Yankees?” I say, “I’ll drive.”

Look, you know I’m a Red Sox fan. I don’t think anyone who’s ever met me for more than three seconds is unaware of this fact. But I’ve grown rather fond of the Orioles recently as well. It’s entirely Marianne’s fault. But how are you gonna not find a bit of a soft spot for a team featuring a 4-foot-tall second baseman (Yes, I know he’s allegedly 5’9”), and a catcher who enjoys being shirtless so very, very much? Obviously, if the Orioles are playing the Red Sox, I’m going Boston all the way, but when they’re playing the Yankees? Orange is my new favorite color.

There is really no possible way for me to document the entire trip. And some things are probably best left unsaid considering that, “If you clean it up, it’s not really a sentence.” But I will share with you a few choice phrases from the three game series at Camden Yards:

“I’ve had blood alcohol levels higher than that batting average!” – Amy, demonstrating tough love towards Luis Matos, currently batting an even .200.

“Did you hear the new rule? Whenever someone says ‘Derek Jeter,’ we have to genuflect.” – Me being a snarky pain in the ass in a section full of Yankees fans who were positively embarrassing themselves with the Jeter man-crushing.

“Is your midriff going to get warm, sir?” – Amy upon seeing Yankee Fan Prototype 2B entering the Sports Legends museum sporting a cutoff Giambi shirt, a Batman tattoo on his left bicep and a tattoo claiming to love someone named “Jo-Jo” on his right. I swear, I am not making this up.

“A reminder: I do not have tranquilizer darts.” – Me to Marianne during On Field Photo Day when Brian Roberts appeared behind home plate and began shaking hands.

“This joker’s due!” – Amy on, practically every Oriole without a hit.

“Kevin Millar has changed his at-bat music to The Jovi’s ‘Wanted Dead or Alive.’ I refuse to believe this is not a shout out.” – Me, considering we listened to the song approximately fifty-eight thousand times on the drive down.

Yankee Fan Prototype 3A: “Where are you girls from?”
Amy, Annette and me: “Boston.”
Yankee Fan Prototype 3A: “Oh, shit.”

“I like that you’ve reimagined Rudy Seanez as a gay interior decorator from Alabama.” – Me to Amy after hearing her Rudy Seanez voice.

“I am going to get my picture taken with John Halama.” – Amy, who did just that.

Yankee Fan Prototype 6F: “Oh, they’re playing small ball.”
Yankee Girlfriend Version Pink Jeter Hat: “What’s small ball?”
Amy to Me: “I’ll buy you drinks for life if you tell that girl that there is no way she’s dating that guy and doesn’t know what ‘small ball’ means.”
Me to Amy: “I am not saying ‘ball’ to a Yankee fan.”

“I will not beat up small children. I will not beat up small children.” – Marianne when the four-year-old in front of us turned completely around in his seat and screamed “Go Yankees!” in a voice that could peel paint off the walls. Of course, the very same kid said to his mom three innings later, “Mom, the Yankees are losing. Go Orioles!”

There is more. I’m sure there is more. But considering we spent a great deal of time either drunk or creating Imaginary Baseball World scenarios, my memory is shot. The other three compatriots can feel free to add anything I’ve forgotten in the comments section.

As for last night’s Sox game…I have no idea what you’re talking about.