So on Sunday, I had an interesting, and unexpected Red Sox encounter.
As some of you may know, I am am a cursed Rays fan--cursed not only by living in Boston, but also because I live across the street from Fenway Park. After the Boston home game this past Sunday, my girlfriend and I were walking past the stadium on our way to get dinner. The place was deserted, everyone had either left or was inside one of the many crappy bars that cluster around the park.
Up ahead of us was a group of four dressed-up folks heading towards the park. I initially thought these people were kids going to a prom. The two guys were wearing suits, but the girls were wearing some of the worst dresses you can imagine. I pointed the group out, and my girlfriend asked, "Is that girl wearing a trash bag?"
She pretty much was. We started quietly making fun of the girls' attire for a few seconds, and then I realized who the guys were: we had been making fun of the wives of Dustin Pedroia, and Jonathan Papelbon (now you can understand why I thought it was a prom, given Pedroia's size). You have to understand, the women, they were wearing the worst dresses in the world. Short, slutty things, that probably looked good to the wife of a baseball player, but bordered on comical, and costume. Papelbon's wife was wearing the trash bag, while Pedroia's was sporting something that looked like a fight between tinfoil and a rubber tire. Needless to say, the local girls up here have some trouble with class.
I was wearing my green Devil Rays hat, and as soon as I realized who the guys were, I started laughing--what are the chances I run into these two guys, randomly, on a deserted street? Papelbaum didn't notice, but Pedroia did. He looked pissed, either because I was making fun of his wife's horrible--wouldn't even fly in Miami--dress, or because I was wearing a Tampa hat next to his stadium. In Boston you may see some Yankee hats, but you never ever see Rays gear--unless I'm the one wearing it. As we passed, I was still laughing, and he actually tried to stare me down, which is harder for him than hitting the high inside fastball.
No fight. No words exchanged. But I definitely pissed Boston's second baseman off. Had their wives not been there, Pedroia probably would have had Papelbon turn me into a pretzel--similar to my most recent ejection from the park during the playoffs last year.
Anyone going to the game tonight, sitting on the third base line near the bullpen, do me a favor: remind Papelbum that his wife dresses like a... ahem, you get the idea.