"Wow! We're going to the Red Sox, Dad, Really?!" He says excitedly.
" I gotta get ready. I gotta get sunscreen. I gotta get my glove. I gotta get a Red Sox hat. I can't go to the game without a Red Sox hat!"
We jump in the car, with an 1 1/2 ride ahead of us and and a 30 minute T-ride. We get over the NH border headed to Fenway Park and the 9 year old says, "So, how much more time, Dad?"
" I say, about a 1/2 hour left to the T."
He replies, "A 1/2 hour... but you can drive faster cause were in Massachussetts, right?"
"Not exactly." I say.
"But it says [odometer] your going 80 and the speed limit is 65 in NH."
I take the foot off the pedal a tad.
We get to the T and my son looks up and says, "Do we have to take a bus? 'cause last time we had to take a bus. You remember, Dad? and it took forever to get to the park. I don't want to be late, I don't want to miss any of the game. Not one single picth. OK, Dad?"
"OK" I reply.
We park and go across a long enclosed bridge where once use to be a tram like vehicle. As we walk across he says, "Um, it sure makes a lot of noise. That doesn't make one very confident, dad."
"Walk in the middle, it makes less noise."
We goto the automatic T Fee based ticket dispensers. I type in two round trip tickets and enter my money and my change comes in the form of 12 Golden $1 coins. "Jackpot!" exclaims my 9 yr. old. We come to the entry doors and enter our tickets and the doors slide apart, just like the doors on The Jetsons. "That is soooo cool, Dad. Can I get a door like that for my room?"
"Probably not, but put it on your wish list for Christmas."
We make it to the park and I give my kid his ticket. As he grabs it we can here the PA Announcer name the starting lineups. "We're gonna be late, come on, Dad."
"We'll be fine." "Hey, let's goto the bathroom before we get our food and go up. Meet me at the mirror."
There he stands, waiting at the mirror like he's been there for hours. He locates me and gives me a big smile and the "come on, let's go" wave.
"So, you hungry?"
"I need a hot dog, dad. A soda would be good."
We make our way to the seats and sit down. It is absolutely beautiful out and Beckett's on the hill.
"Dad, look, there is Ellsbury in center!!, Youk is at first!, Pedroia at second! JD is in right and Jason is in Left. Is Varitek catching?"
First inning begins: it's 6-0.
He replies, "Wow, we're going to have a big rally, this could be like the Texas game, Dad."
Refering to the 19-17 bonanza a few days earlier.
It's 8-0. "Dad, what's wrong with Beckett?"
"They're (The Blue Jays) just having a real good day at the plate."
"All of them" He says.
"Hey, there's a new pitcher, Dad. Number 63. That's a good number."
Youkilis hits a home run... High fives all around. But my son is looking at me like it wasn't that cool. "What's wrong buddy?"
"Dad, everyone stood up and I couldn't see anything."
Hmm,. didn't think of that. It's now 9-4.
"Dad, I'm hungry."
Down to the concourse we go. "Okay, so, what do you want? Ice Cream? Fried Dough?"
We go all the way down by home plate to get it because they give you butter, powdered sugar and cinnamon.
"Dad, I don't want Fried Dough."
"How come?" I ask.
"I don't feel so good."
"Do you want to go to look at the baseballs? We'll get you a souvenior?"
We get to the stand.
"I want a Wally Ball."
I hand it to him after having paid.
"Thanks, Dad. "
After successfully scanning over the Wally charachter and gripping it and pretending to throw it, he says, "Dad, can you carry it?"
He looks uo at me and asks sheepishly, "Can we get Fried Dough? We can share it. I feel a little bit better but can we watch a little of the game on the TV?"
So we do. Lowrie hits a triple.
"Dad, we need to go back to our seats, the rally is happening without us."
To the seasts we go.
It's the 8th and Oki Doki comes out.
"Dad, Oki's pitching. And Coco is out in center. I like Coco. Coco and Crisp sound good together."
Sweet Caroline comes over the PA...
"Touching me, touching you... "
I give my kid a headlock.
My 9 yr. old waves in vein at Coco hoping for a wave. Coco looks up in our direction... but nothing.
It's now the 9th and Pap comes out...
And 4+ hours, the game is over, we lost 15-4. "Dad, we might be the jinx."
We're leaving and My son says, "Dad, that was awesome! Thanks."
As we get on the T he says, "Dad, I have been thinking: Unkie said, 'I might be the jinx if we lose.' I think its all the other people, that's our story, okay?"
"Okay" I say.