Redsoxchickie: Just This Side of Stalking

And I thought last week was bad,

I know, I know, I’ve been a bad Red Sox Chickie for not writing for so long. I offer no excuses and I should be flogged immediately. Maybe that will take my mind off the coming week and all the good times I have in store, you know, the multiple panic attacks, nausea, tension headaches, sleep deprivation, ulcer flare-ups and general inability to concentrate on anything more mentally taxing than breathing which I have been know to forget to do in the middle of a game.

If you think I’m going to talk about what to expect in the coming week forget it! I don’t want to think farther ahead than that next five minutes otherwise any of the above mentioned maladies could kick-in. I have published a previous essay from last year with a few updates as a user's guide for this week. That's my contribution to Red Sox Nation. For now I will look back to last week ‘cause it was a doozy.

Game 1: Is it the intention of ESPN and MLB to make my life hell? Who decided the time for these games? 4pm for the opener? Sure it’s a foregone conclusion that everyone in a four state area would have an appointment with Dr. Bud Weiser at 3:30pm, but if the Massachusetts’s economy goes in the crapper due to lack of production by its employees I’m blaming MLB right after I contact Mitt Romney about my refund I want for the Big Dig. Even with Schilling on the mound it doesn’t quell one’s nerves…especially after he grabbed his ankle, which through selective memory loss I’ve managed to forget. But thankfully we won….one game. Number of panic attacks: 3. Number of times nausea hit me: 1.

Game 2: And then came Pedro. Sure he was angry and he’s supposedly better when he’s angry but if that was true why wouldn’t you piss him off before every start. I thought we were beat when it was 3-1, but then the savior came up WHO NEEDS TO BE SIGNED TO A NEW CONTRACT NOW!!!! And hit the tying homer. Game tied Pedro just finished the 7th and I’m praying they don’t put him back in. Apparently I prayed so hard I passed out (note: during a 10pm game it is not wise to drink a bottle of cheap wine if you plan on actually being conscious for it). I woke in the morning and after a few seconds a wave of panic hit me when I realized I slept through the end of the game!!!! I’ve never turned on a TV so fast in my life, and then was relieved that they had won convincingly. Apparently my fried saw me sleep and was about to wake me when my boys started winning and since she knows that I’m insane decided it was safer to keep me sleeping if they were winning because I probably would have killed her if they had started losing because she woke me up. I don’t pretend to be normal. Number of panic attacks: 4. Nausea: 3. Tension headaches: 1

Game 3: Cautious optimism. Sure we were up 2-0 but if we’ve learned anything any team could come back from a 0-2 deficit to win it all. Hello? Remember us last year? So the good news is that I had tickets to this game, which frankly meant I expected a loss. Really? Could they really clinch at home at a game I was at? It was an unlikely prospect at best. Our seats kicked butt, actually the best seats I had all year. Then I walked past John Henry, which I didn’t even notice due to overpriced water-down beer consumption. So I settled in. Next thing I know were up 6-1 going into the 7th. I let myself relax for a mere moment and that’s when the wheels came off. In one swing it was tied. Beer please!!! If it weren’t for the fact I had beer goggles on I would have cried. So here comes extra innings. I never feel good in extra innings. It’s like hearing screeching tires and waiting for the crashing noise. Lowe comes in….all I could think of was “crapper, crapper, crapper”, but he actually gets 3 outs without falling to pieces. I sat back and waited for the bottom of the 10th while listening the freaking Yankees fan in front of me say how we blew it and fought the urge to put a sleeper hold on him and shove peanuts up his nose. Damon got on but still I was convinced it wasn’t meant to be. Then I hear a bat crack and everyone is looking up….up….holy crapper!!! WE WON!!! WE WON!!! And I was THERE, ME….I was there!!!! It was like my birthday, Christmas and when I won $250 dollars at Foxwoods all rolled into one. Number of panic attacks: 5, Ulcer flare-ups: 1, Nausea: 1 but that was after the game because apparently a whole lot of beer and Italian food don NOT mix well.

So that was last week, now it’s this week and its 0-0 ….until tomorrow night. Tums and Prozac donations can be left at my house.