Originally Posted: 2004-10-18 10:34am
Someone please help me
Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?
I vowed not to pay attention to Game 4. I went to my buddy's house for the Pats game and the 4 o'clock games. I got my weekly dose of perfection from watching my favorite football team win again. Then I drove back to my girlfriend's house where I promised myself it would be a night of American Dreams and Law & Order. I would not get upset. I would not work myself into a murderous frenzy, I would not watch the game and I would not continue to hold out hope for the 2004 season.
I walked into my girlfriend's house, grabbed the remote, and switched from Brittany Snow's cute mug to stare an ugly sweep in the face. My girlfriend marched upstairs cursing me the whole way.
I thought we were dead in the bottom of the 9th. Down one, facing the best closer I've ever seen. Not good. Millar gets on, Roberts pinch runs and visions of Dale Sveum single handedly ending our season start popping into my head. Now I'm a little superstitious (read CRAZY) so I was standing on top of the couch when the inning started. Why? I don't know. It didn't work when I watched from the bathroom or laid on the living room floor with my pants off for an inning, that's why. So standing on top of the couch was the next logical step. Then Roberts got on and I knew my couch standing tactics must be working. But it wasn't enough, I needed more. I looked around for something, anything to bring the team luck. In a panic stricken and desperate state, I grabbed my girlfriend's cat and held it while standing on the couch. Then my cell phone rang (which woke my girlfriend up) and it was my brother and father watching the game together as Mueller prepared for his at-bat.
I noticed I couldn't hear the TV in the background and asked them why. They had spent the game wrestling with their own superstitions. They were currently standing on the back porch watching the game through the window for good luck. My brother also was carrying around his lucky bat, and had unscrewed the broom handle (to avoid the sweep obviously) and was carrying that around with him too. My poor father, who is now at the age where he truly thinks he'll be dead before this team wins it all) was carrying around the foul ball that he caught at Fenway in 1970 as well as his lucky penny. He swears this penny brought the Patriots their last Super Bowl win. He walks around holding it while quietly chanting "Power of the penny, power of the penny" to himself. Poor bastard.
So my brother and my father are calling me from outside of their house while watching the game through the window, holding a bat, a broomstick, a ball and a penny while I was standing on my girlfriend's couch holding her cat and wearing my lucky Tedy Bruschi jersey that hasn't been washed in well over a year.
But we stayed that way til the 12th and Ortiz won it, just to torture us with a loss down the road. And victory came with a price because my girlfriend's pissed at me for waking her up and her fucking cat really clawed the hell out of my arms. Seriously, does anyone else know what it's like to be this way?
Someone please help me.
this is in or around nutcase Red Sox fan