Now THIS is what I call traveling…

All right, I got my next few days worked out, and they’re nuts.
I was already planning on being in New Hampshire on Thursday and Friday for a classic video game competition at this HUGE arcade called Funspot when it occurred to me that the Red Sox will be playing at home on Wednesday night…as in, tomorrow. Conveniently, Boston is on the way to New Hampshire, so I’m going to force myself up early and leave NYC at around 9am. I figure that with all the traffic and wrong turns that I’ll inevitably make, I’ll get to Fenway between 2 and 3pm. That’ll leave me a few hours to somehow find myself a ticket to this sold out game. My goal, of course, will be to get a ball from Manny.

As soon as the game ends and I’ve made my attempt to get a ball at the winning team’s dugout, I’ll run to my (parents’) car and drive the final 103.46 miles (according to the occasionally reliable MapQuest.com) to my hotel in Weirs Beach. Normally, I’d enjoy a well-played 14-13 extra-inning game, but please, ghost of the Bambino, not on Wednesday. Even if the game lasts a mere three hours, I won’t reach my bed until 1 or 2am. And I have to wake up early the next day and perform.

I’ve only been to Fenway twice. I caught three balls (long before I had a clue) on September 7, 1991, and I snagged seven on June 25, 2003. The only trouble with going for a Manny ball is that I’ll have to give up that beautiful corner spot down the 3rd base line so I can hang out deeper in foul territory to get his attention. That might cost me a few balls, but it’s worth it. Normally, it wouldn’t be worth it, but this is my “husband” we’re talking about. That’s what one of my co-workers has been calling Manny since I wrote that entry about him.

But anyway, enough about Wednesday and Thursday and Manny and Fenway. I’m thinking about today. Tuesday. It’s 2:20pm. The weather is perfect here in NYC, and I’m totally free for the rest of the day to see the entire Mets-Diamondbacks game at Shea. I’m going to right field for the Mets BP. There’s this nasty old usher in left with a special set of rules just for me, so I’ll wait ’til Arizona takes the field before I head that way. In the meantime, I’ll be on a mission to get a ball from Pedro.

4 Comments

Zack, If you are nice to me, I would give you some spanish phrases for you to use on Manny. They may help you, but then again, speaking to Manny is like speaking to a brick wall. Oops, did I really say that? If by chance Manny isn’t cordial as you anticipate him to be, tell him to get a haircut, in spanish of course. LOL!!!

what players have been the nicest to you in giving you baseballs?

where would you suggest as the cheapest place to pick up your book?

loveg30-
I’ll tell Manny what you told that rude waiter in the restaurant near my place.

John-

Here’s my list of nice guys: Josh Beckett, Tim Bogar, Jamey Carroll, Rob Ducey, Livan Hernandez, Trevor Hoffman, Todd Hundley, Bobby J. Jones, Mark Kotsay, Al Leiter, Jose Lima, Calvin Maduro, Josias Manzanillo, Todd Pratt, Jose Rijo, Fernando Vina, David Weathers, Turk Wendell, and Vance Wilson. No one named John. Hmm. As for my book, check out amazon.com or http://www.abebooks.com. Someone’s gotta have it for just a few bucks. At some point though, hopefully within the next year or two, I’m going to get serious about writing a revised/updated edition.

Melvin Mora has now earned himself a spot on the list.

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