To be honest, things looked pretty grim. I’ve been to at least one playoff game in every year that the Sox have made the postseason since 2003, as best I can recall. This year, though, the usual sources dried up and the tickets that were available to me weren’t remotely in the budget. Still, I was consoled by the fact that the lawyer and I had scheduled our first non-wedding oriented vacation in months. A day off tomorrow and the holiday Monday promised a nice little break in the action, and to quote one of my favorite movies, we had a pretty nice little Saturday planned.
And then the call came in. While we were en route, ironically, to Fenway this past weekend. Two of my new favorite people in the world called and the news was good. Like, impossibly good. I was not only going to get to one game, I was headed to two. Provided the series go to four games, of course.
So while I’ll open the playoffs screaming at the TV from a stool at Ruski’s watching the game with a bunch of Mainers, come Sunday I’ll be screaming live and in person at the finest ballpark in the world.
Given that my mental well being hinges on how well the boys play this weekend, I hope you’ll wish us luck. Either way, I won’t be back with all of you until next Tuesday. Have a great weekend, and I’ll talk to you all soon.
