An Affair with a Yankee

An Affair with a Yankee

“Seriously, man? We’re talking the Sox and the Yankee’s here! You’re missing out on this game because you have to work?” I say.

“I know, I know! I can’t believe it. Sorry to leave you hanging, but this project just popped up. Call James and see if he can go. Or what about Sonya? She’d like to go, don’t you think? Maybe Will or Mitch…” Bryce trails off.

“For one, James is out of town. Two, Sonya hates the red sox, you know that. I’m thinking of breaking up with her, by the way. Did I tell you that when I asked her if she wanted to see come see this game, she asked who the Yankee’s were? I told her they were the worst team in the league from New York . So, of course, I asked her if she would be still going for the sox, and she said she would root for the Yankee’s, since they’re from New York and she’s always wanted to live in New York. Which then I started thinking; can I even be with someone who knows that little about the Sox? And who would root for the Yankees?” I say.

                “Hey, remember, Sonya has a good job, she’s not mooching off of you, and, let’s be honest, she’s hot! So don’t be complaining if she likes the Yankee’s” Bryce says.

                “That’s a deal breaker, man! I don’t know, maybe it’s time to…” I say before Bryce cuts me off.

                “Alright, well, I got to get back to this project, have fun at the game!” He hangs up.

                “What to do, what to do?” I say to myself as I glance around at the mix of season ticket holders and scalpers crowded outside the Green Monster. Maybe I’ll sell it to someone in the “day of” tickets line. I pull the tickets out of my pocket.

                “Shute,” I say as one of the tickets falls to the floor. I bend over to pick it up.

                Wham! Someone smacks into my back as I begin to stand up.

                “Hey, man! That’s not cool. You don’t go running into people like that,” I say as I stand back up.

                “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to run into you like that! I was just searching for a scalper so I can get a ticket to the game!” a voice says. I turn around and see a brunette with dark blue eyes and a white jacket.

                “Totally fine,” I regain my composure, “Did you say you were looking for a scalper for a ticket?”

                “Yeah, I found one earlier and he tried to sell me one for $180 in the upper right grandstands, but even though I’ve only been here a few times, I thought that was a little much,” she says.

                “Wait, you’re a Bostonian, and you’ve only been to Fenway a few times?” I say in mock seriousness.

                “Ha, sort of,” she laughs. “I just moved here. I’ve always wanted to live in Boston, and finally I just said to heck with it, and moved out here!”

                “Well, there’s no better way to say hello to Boston than coming to a sox game!” I tell her. “Here, if you’re looking for a ticket, I’ve got one seat in the logo box near right field.” I hold up the two tickets.

                “Really? No, I couldn’t do that to you. You would have to spend the entire game next to me!” she laughs.

                “Well, that’s alright with me. Wait, I have one question,” I say.

                “Sure, hit me up,” she says.

                “Do you know who is playing tonight and where they are from?” I ask.

                She looks at me like I lost my mind. “It’s the New York Yankees versus the Boston Red Sox tonight. Basically, the best match up of all time.”

                “A well informed fan. I’m impressed,” I say. I look at my watch. “Well, it’s six fifty, and the game starts at seven ten, so, shall we head in?” I point toward Gate E.

                “Sure, let’s go! I can’t wait. I love baseball,” she says as she starts heading toward the entrance.

                We get inside and head over toward our seats.

                “Wow, these seats are great!” she says as we sit down. “We’re so close to the field!”

                “Yep,” I say. “I’ve had these seats since I moved to Boston about twenty years ago. See over there?” I point toward the back wall. She nods. “That there is the Green Monster.”

                “Great. This field is amazing. And look at all the fans!” she says, as she scans the stadium.

                “Well, it is America’s Most Beloved Ballpark,” I say. “Can I get you anything to drink before the game?”

                “I’m good,” she says, “thank you though. I’m Taylor.”

                “I’m Blake,” I say.

                “Nice to meet you,” she says.

                “Nice to meet you, too. So, you mentioned that you just moved to Boston. What part?” I ask.

                “South End,” she says. “What about you?”

                “No way! I live there too! We should get dinner or something sometime. I’ll show you all the hidden spots of Boston, and tell you where to do and what to do. Boston’s the best city in the country, so you made a good choice by coming here,” I tell her.

                “That would be great! So far, I do like Boston. I used to live in New York, which was nice and all, but I’ve always wanted to try out living in Boston. It has such history, you know? Whenever I visited, I always felt like I was a part of something that had been here for a while. I just really liked the feeling,” she says.

                “I know what you mean. Boston has it all: great food, tons of Bostonian pride, lots to do, and let’s be honest: We have the best teams in the world: the Celtics, the Bruins, who just won the Stanley Cup, by the way, the New England Patriots, and the Red Sox. Can’t do much better than that,” I say.

                “It seems like a fun city. So far, I really like it. The scenery is great, the neighborhoods are charming and the guys are darling,” she looks at me and blushes a little bit.

                “Well, can’t really argue with you on all of that. Hey, look,” I point over to the bull pen. “We’re warming up all of our guys, it’s looking good.”

                “Yep! What time is the game supposed to start?” she asks.

                “Seven ten, “ I say as I glance at my watch. “It’s seven, so we’ve got just a few more minutes and we’ll start.”

                “Excellent! Looks like they’re getting everyone ready now. Here come the Yankees!” she stands up and cheers.

                “And now are the Red Sox!” I yell and cheer along with all of the other fans at Fenway.

                We both stay standing and put our hands over our hearts as the players take their positions on the field for the singing of the Star Spangled Banner.

                Once it’s over, we sit back down. “Are you ready for a great game?” I ask.

                “Oh, I can’t wait. I’ve been wanting to go to a Yankees vesus Red Sox game for almost my entire life!” she says.

                “Well, you’ve come to the right place,” I say.

                “Alright, let me just get myself ready for the game,” she says as she unzips her white jacket to reveal a navy blue shirt underneath.

                But it isn’t a Red Sox navy blue shirt. It’s a New York Yankee shirt.

                Oh. My. God.