It’s minutes after the upstart Tampa Bay Rays knocked off my beloved Red Sox in Game 7 of the ALCS. And quite frankly I’m a little bitter. Not so much at the players themselves, as the Rays are a wildly talented bunch of young players who deserve to be where they’re at. And let’s be honest, the fact that they didn’t collectively hang themselves in the locker room after blowing that lead in Game 5 is amazing in and of itself.
No, my venom is reserved for the idiot Rays fans who have no idea what it’s like to be a real fan. They hold up signs with ridiculous sayings written on them. Most of them have mohawks. They plant hot chicks in every section to rev the crowd up because they’re too damn stupid to cheer on their own. They ring cowbells. I repeat, THEY RING COWBELLS. And I thought the Rally Monkey was the dumbest concoction in years. But worst of all, they hardly sold out a game until the playoffs started. They don’t deserve a World Series appearance because they are morons who have only been rooting for a team for 10 years, and less than 5% of them have even been fans for that long.
I hate them. All of them. Especially Dick Vitale.
So when the last out was recorded and the PA announcer explained to the crowd their team was headed to the World Series, I let out an exasperated “FUCK!” very loudly. Then I went to the computer to start venting on here. But my yelling must’ve woken up Will, because I was slightly taken aback when I realized he had crawled all the way out to the living room.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he said.
“Did you just talk buddy? Am I hallucinating again?”
“No, I can talk. Well, I talk occasionally. I can really only verbalize myself to you, anyone else who listens in will just hear “goo goo and ga ga.” Kind of like Stewie in Family Guy.”
“You like that show? I love it too. But as your dad should I really be letting you watch that? I know I keep it on in the background but in all fairness that was before I knew you could talk and comprehend things. Armed with this knowledge it creates a real dilemma because…”
“Look, I don’t have much time. This talking thing comes and goes. I really can’t explain it. But I know you’re really upset about the Red Sox and I just wanted to make sure you’re doing OK. So…are you good?”
“Buddy I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around. But thanks for asking. Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a game right? Not worth getting upset about.”
“Dude, I’m only 6 months old and I know that’s crap.”
“Yeah, but I’ll get over it. In the meantime, now that you’re talking is it OK if I ask you a few questions. You know, about how things are going and what it’s like being a baby.”
“Sure, what the heck. Fire away.”
“OK, well…as you know, we’re first time parents. So if you don’t mind me asking, how are we doing?”
“You do realize that while you’re a first time dad, I’m a first time kid right? So I really have no perspective here, but I’d say you guys are doing a pretty good job. You give me plenty of food, you change me when I suffer the indignity of soiling myself and I have lots of cool toys. If I need something I just make some noise and you guys come get me. You don’t always know what I want right away but you seem to figure it out before too long. So overall I’m giving you an A-.”
“An A-? Why the minus? I’m pretty competitive and I really thought I had a solid A.”
“Jeez, are these the kinds of standards I’m going to be held to when I start bringing home report cards? I guess the minus is because of a few minor things I wish you’d change. First of all, the swearing has to stop. You’re pretty bad. I’ve been talking with some of the other kids at daycare and they haven’t even heard of the words I’m passing onto them. And the yelling during games is a little freaky to an infant. You might wanna tone that down. And I know this is a little gross, but could you please not be so stingy with the Boudreau’s Butt Cream? I have really sensitive skin and I’m getting rubbed raw down there. I know money is tight but I’ll look into a part-time job if it’s really that much of a hassle. My butt comfort is worth it.”
“Wow, sorry about that. I guess you’re right. Consider it done.”
“Oh, and I’m not sure what you’re writing about me on that blog but it better be complimentary or there’s going to be a libel suit in your future.”
“Wow, I’m just impressed you already know the difference between slander and libel. The doctor said you were pretty advanced.”
“Oh crap, I need to go back to bed. My ability to speak is leaving faster than a Mike Timlin fastball leaving the ballpark.”
“Buddy…what the hell?!?!”
“Whoops, sorry about that. I seem to have inherited your obnoxious sense of humor so I guess you only have yourself to blame.”
“Fair enough. Goodnight buddy, it was great talking to you. I need to blog about this.”
“Ummm, can you put me back to bed first? I may be able to talk intermittently but it’s not like I can pole vault back into my crib.”
“I’m coming, smart ass. You’re way too much like me.”