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    Monday, July 18, 2005
    GUEST POST: The Yankee Visits McCoy
    This is a guest post from my friend, The Yankee (so named as he is a North East boy living in the south ... did you really think I would let a Yankee fan post on my blog?!). I'm pretty busy, so I thought now would be a great time to post this baby up. Enjoy!

    The Yankee Visits McCoy

    So I went home for the 4th of July this year. While I was home, my father took me to a Pawsox game. I haven’t been to a baseball game in over 15 years. It’s not that I’m not a fan, but it’s just something my lifestyle usually doesn’t permit. FINY’ll back me up here.

    We arrive at McCoy and I am immediately disappointed. The park had always had a rough look; a look that gave off a historic vibe. Apparently, they didn’t like it and re-modeled the fucker at some point. But I’ll get more into that later.

    As we’re standing in line, some of the excitement comes back. People all around are wearing Red Sox apparel and little kids are holding their gloves with hopes of catching foul balls (and with the re-modeling, home runs as well). Everyone was talking to everyone else about how long they’d been coming to the park, the season so far, Schilling pitching at McCoy on Monday, etc., when I notice a cute blonde looking at me. She obviously worked at the stadium. I smile at her, and she walks over. Nice!

    Blonde: “Hi.”
    Me: “Hi.”
    Blonde: “What are you doing?”

    This is an odd question since it’s fairly obvious.

    Me: “Err…I’m just waiting to go see the game.”
    Blonde: “You need to put that cigarette out.”
    Me: “Wha…what?”
    Blonde: “You can’t smoke here.”

    Now I’m pissed. I thought she was digging on me, but she just wanted to be P.C.

    Me: “Um..I’m outside. AND I’m outside the park.”
    Blonde: “Sir, if you want to smoke, you need to do it over there.”
    [she points to an area across the parking lot with a sign “Designated Smoking Area”]

    What the fuck? Not only am I now not able to smoke OUTDOORS but this little prissy bitch called me “sir”.

    Me: “Okay, MA’AM.”

    So I put the cigarette out and she walks away. I didn’t want to do her anyway. All I want is to get my seat, get a beer, and see the game.

    The gates open and it looks like the start of a marathon. People are running everywhere trying to get the best seats. We choose ours by right field. We save our seats by putting our shit down and go to locate the nearest beer stand. On our way, a Dixieland Quartet is playing a New Orleans version of “Take Me Out To The Ball Game”. Awesome.

    At the beer stand, my father gives the vendor a brief history of the years he has come to McCoy. This is what YankeeDad does. I’m sure if he had had pictures of him at McCoy, he would’ve taken them out and shown them to this guy. I’m just glad to get a beer.

    When I threw the empty bottle away a few minutes later, I realized I just had my first ballpark beer with my dad, at a Pawsox game. I think that’s kind of cool.

    I get another beer and convince my father to walk up the old spiral entrance with me. Those of you that have been to McCoy know the one I’m talking about. As we’re walking up, I see the drawings on the side marking the baseball greats that have played for the team. I remember, as a kid, seeing Wade Boggs play at McCoy. I also remember Sam Horn getting into a fight at McCoy when he played for the Sox. And of course, there are the paintings of them.

    My father goes to check on our seats and I sneak back to the beer guy. I meet my father downstairs at the gift shop. It is HERE, FINY fans, that I want you all to pay attention.

    As I’m looking around the shop, picking out things for the Sox fans back in NC, I glance behind the register. I see four kinds of hats on the wall. Boston hats, Pawtucket hats (normal), new Pawtucket hats (the Pawsox just got a mascot. I think it’s pretty gay for any professional team to have a mascot, but that’s just me.), and at the far end of the wall, New York Yankees hats!

    What the fuck?!?!?! Are you fucking serious??? This gift shop is a disgrace to the Red Sox Nation! With 3 beers into the trip and nothing to eat, I am NOT about to let this go. My father is off in some other part of the store, or outside or something. Good. I don’t care about myself but I don’t want to embarrass him. I stop the nearest person that looks like they work there.

    Me: “Excuse me.”
    Girl: “Yes sir?”

    Fucking “sir” again.

    Me: “I was wondering if you could tell me why, and how, you sell Yankees hats at a Red Sox affiliated ball park?”
    Girl [grinning]: “I don’t know. Whatever sells, right?”

    I had a huge urge to smack her.

    Me: “Don’t you think that’s like selling Nazi apparel at a barmitzfah?”
    Girl: “Sir, I’m Jewish.”
    Me [confused]: “Ok. Nice to meet you I’m a Sox fan.”

    She walks away. I see her telling a co-worker about our conversation. I decide to let my father buy the things I need.

    Back in the seats, and an hour later, the game started. They played the Charlotte Knights. I found this ironic since I was on vacation from NC. Both teams played like ass. The game was boring. Everyone around me was bored. The crowd did “the wave”. I ate ice cream out of a miniature helmet. The Sox lost. The crowd DID liven up when after the game they showed the Bosox game on the big screen. We watched the fireworks (the next night, the fireworks shot into the crowd.). And went home.
    posted by FINY @ Monday, July 18, 2005  
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    Name: FINY
    Home: New York, New York, United States
    About Me: Just a New England girl trying to make it in NYC. Email me at: soxfaninnyc [at] gmail [dot] com
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