Traveling As A Bo Sox Fan

I recently took an excursion to Seattle to watch my beloved Red Sox take on the Seattle Mariners.  Having less than 24 hours to repack my bag once I return from Seattle, and board a plane for California, I decide to pack only the bare necessities.  That way I don't have to do laundry once I get back. 

So I toss in a couple clean pairs of underwear, a bottle of Crown Royal and the new king of my t-shirt wardrobe, a "Jacoby Is God" shirt I made with iron-on letters, shirt fresh off the ironing board.  I originally planned on taking my Ellsbury jersey that I'd just ordered from MLB.com, however it hadn't arrived yet so I had to improvise.

We make the drive up to Seattle and, first things first, hit the brew pub across the street from SafeCo Field.  Being four hours before game time we don't have much of a problem finding a table.  But as the beers go down and more people show up, we start to mingle. 

Now if you can imagine wearing a shirt that says "Jacoby Is God" you're bound to come across someone who appreciates it as much as yourself.  And that's exactly what I did.  Aunt Jan, Mom, Dad, and all of Jacoby's brothers found it quite hilarious.  A few pitchers of 10.4% Imperial Hefeweizen and stories of little baby Jacoby later, we were ready to watch batting practice.

Without hesitation we run across the street and get in line just as they open the gate.  As soon as we're in we dash to home plate and, with the help of those pitchers of loud mouth soup, immediately let all of our favorite players know we're there.

Before I know I'm double fisting it from my seat on the third base line, they're throwing out the first pitch, and Theo Epstein (General Manager for the Red Sox) is sitting down in front of me. 

My recollection of the next 12 innings are fuzzy, at best, but I do remember on several occasions chanting "Re-sign Manny!" as loud as we could.  Post Red Sox domination I find myself stumbling through the streets of Seattle while my buddies wife suggest we find a good dessert place. 

Thinking that we're the cleverest of the clever, we try to convince her that every bar we pass has the best dessert in Seattle.  Sober minded folk are not easily persuaded by a couple of drunken bafoons.  After some debate I find myself sitting at a table in a somewhat classy establishment, waiting for my $15 apple crisp. 

As I'm wondering which was more exciting: meeting Jacoby's family, or sitting behind Theo Epstein, a familiar face walks towards our table en route of his own.  It's Jacoby's brother.  I immediately spring to life and rip open my zip up hoody to display my "Jacoby Is God" as though I'm Superman showing off the S on my chest. 

He immediately starts to laugh again and says "That's a nice shirt."  Followed by the rest of his family I'm just about say, "Where's the man?" when God himself goes walking by.  He reads my shirt, and says laughing "That's awesome, I like that!" 

Now I'm pretty sure there's a rule written somewhere stating that if one comes within five feet of God he must autograph something for you.  I decide I have to interrupt his family dinner and see if I can get him to sign my shirt.  Being a good sport he is he was more than happy to oblige.  It didn't hurt that I mentioned I was also an Oregon State alum.

Once I returned home I wasted no time getting my autographed shirt framed and hung on the wall.  After that was accomplished I packed for my Cali excursion by pulling the dirties out of my bag, then stuffing some cleans in. With Beckett due on the mound the day of my flight to California I decided to proudly sport my Beckett shirt. 

I arrive at the airport and head through security. As soon as I walk through the metal detector I get pounced on because of a liquid in my bag.  Having not even bothered to pack toothpaste or deodorant I'm a bit confused.  The guy asks "is it a bottle of cologne maybe?"  Not being sure of what he's talking about I say, "No Beckett is pitching today." 

To which he replies with a confused look "It's not cologne?"

So I speak a little louder, a little more clearly, and say, "Nope, Josh Beckett.  I believe Bartolo Colon is still on the DL."

Even more confused now he says "I'm going to look through your bag and see if I can find it.  The computer shows you have a liquid in your bag."

Confident there are absolutely no liquids in my bag I say, "Word.  You're repacking it though because there's definitely no liquids in there."

Then he pulls out a bottle of Crown Royal and says "Ahh, this is what it is."  

At this point everyone around us starts chuckling and I say, "Ooooh yeah, I forgot that was in there.  How 'bout that.  Cologne/breath mint/good time, all in one."

Then its clear that I'm not going to get it back so I start to say "keep it", when the old guy behind me in line leans in and says "say sonny, you going to finish that?"

I say, "Are you kidding me?!? It's 10 o'clock in the morning old man!  Of course I planned on finishing this."  Then I notice his eyes fixed on the bottle, as though he's in a state of hypnosis.  There's a little drool starting to form in the corner of his mouth, and he's reaching for the bottle.  I add, "Were you seriously going to drink this right now?"

He replies "Yeah.  That's Crown sonny!  That's the good stuff!  You can't just throw that away."

Still tasting it in my mouth, and smelling it as it seeped out my pores, from the night before I hand him the bottle and said "enjoy!"

The old man says "God bless."

As I put my belt back on, and sling my backpack over my shoulder, end it with "Jacoby is God."