It ended up being an amazing day for some baseball. I did, at some points, feel as though I was roasting alive from the direct sun. BUT, the super affordable (HAAA YEA RIGHT) beers at the park helped to keep me cool. We had some awesome seats (THANKS MARC!) and I made friends with the gentleman to my right, Donald. He was from North Carolina, had the cutest drawl ever, and was there with his daughter. He was so awesome that I didn't even mind that he was a huge Red Sox fan.
The game started off pretty badly for the Yankees and I did not enjoy sitting there as they got further into a hole. Before I knew it, it was 9-0 with the Sox leading and I had to try very, very hard not to be a sore loser. It was really difficult since, you know, since people were gloating left and right.
And then.. it began. The bases were loaded, Swisher came up to the plate and BAM! Grand slam. I didn't even know what had happened because there was barely any reaction in the stadium. This started two innings where the Yanks scored 14 runs. Every time they scored, I'd high five the (few) Yankee fans that were around me. Now it was my turn to gloat, bitches!
The Yanks won, by the way.
I had told Marc before we even stepped foot in the stadium that if a foul ball was coming ANYWHERE near me that I would duck my head. I have seen way too many videos of people breaking their noses, fingers, and lord knows what else, by trying to catch a ball. NO WAY, SIR. At one point, one of the outfielders went to throw a ball to a dad in the stands. It was a little short, and I saw it coming towards me. True to my word, I ducked. The next thing I knew, I felt something on top of my head. When I looked up, the dad was sprawled across three rows, with his CROTCH RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE.
I got teabagged at Fenway park.
I'm thinking of making it into a t-shirt.