The baseball gods are not on my side this week. My sleeping eating and drinking patterns have all been affected by the shrinking lead we have over the Yankees. I know that stats are in our favor, but this is the Red Sox, and it is August. Getting comfortable is just cursing ourselves.
I went to a pub to watch the game, no luck as usual. But this time it got a bit scary. An elderly woman who mistook me for a cricket fan actually chased me out of the pub.
“Get out of here you English cricket fan” she said and threw in a few profanities here and there. I kept trying to explain to her it was baseball I was after. She kept telling me cricket would be the end to the Irish nationalists. I was forced out of the pub full of locals who at this stage all believed me for an antinationalist cricket fan. They must have been a bit too buzzed to hear my American accent at this stage.
I ended up having pizza. I mean they can't possibly kick an American out of a pizza joint, right? This is when I realized just how cursed I am. The lunch special was called the Yankee pizza. I looked up to the walls, and found myself staring at a picture of Matsui on the wall. At least it wasn’t A-Rod. However, I still lost my appetite.
I tell these stories of Ireland so you’ll be prepared. I was hoping for nice quiet pints of Guinness to nurse me through this hard time in August. Instead I keep finding myself getting kicked out of pubs eating Yankee pizza. So much for the luck of the Irish.
I can’t wait to return to the promise land.
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