First Game of the Season

I went to my first game of the season last night in Anaheim to see the Angels take on the Indians.  By time I got to the park, it was all but over for the Sox against the Rays, so I was in a foul mood and the girlfriend was none too happy with me.  My level began to rise when I saw that parking was raised to $10 from $8 last year and a cup of Stella Artois was $12.  We made our way down to our seats beside the bullpen in left field in time for first pitch.


Dan Haren threw a hell of a game, holding the Tribe to one hit and no runs in a complete game.  I think what was probably more promising for Halos fans was the pair of home runs hit by young guns Peter Bourjos and Mark Trumbo, respectively.  They snapped the Indian's eight game win streak and made the 43,000 fans in attendance enjoy their night.


I went in my 2011 All-Star Red Sox hat and caught a little bit of shit talk from some dick wearing the -oh-so-timely Rick Vaughn jersey.  He started asking me about how it felt to be in the cellar and I told him he would be there soon enough to find out.  He then asked if I was going to be in the cellar soon at which point I determined he was not only an idiot but a deaf one as well.  The girlfriend told me to relax but I countered that this wasn't Dodger Stadium.  She sighed with relief, thinking that I meant there was no cause for concern, but she shook her head when I told her that I would finish a fight.  I know that the incident at Chavez Ravine has affected baseball fans, but growing up at both Dodger and Angel Stadium, I've never been one to shy away from the rival fans.  I've never seen it escalate to the levels it did earlier this month, but I refuse to monitor or censor what I wear or say at a ball game that I've paid money to attend.


By time I got off my soapbox, the girlfriend left to have drinks with my mother at the Knothole Club and I spent the next few innings trying to get my friend's wife to duck down to the bullpen and get an autograph from their high school chum, Indian's P Justin Germano.  She finally relented when my friend handed her a ball and a cheer rose from our section when she returned with the signed ball.  I bid my friends adieu after eight innings and headed up to finish the game with my mother and girlfriend.  We ended the game at the bar and left happy.  I more than she, as after she asked whether the Angels won or lost, she told me she really wasn't an Angels fan anymore.

She'll be a Sox fan by the end of the season, mark my words.