I am not much of a sports fan. I was as a kid, but the lack of sportsmanship and fair sense of the players compounded by the all out anger and hatred of many fans has all but ruined any enjoyment I received from watching. That said however, I was very happy to see that in baseball, New York and Boston were able to bury the hatchet, at least for a little while out of respect to the horrible disaster thrust on such a magnificent city. The rivalry between these two city’s is monumental.
I’m a proud New Yorker at heart but a Red Sox fan when I had an interest in the game. I have a blue hat with the big red B on top and I take my life in my hands when I wear it around town. Yankee fans you see are beyond obsessed, the Yankees are a religion around here. Like the holy crusaders of the 11th, 12th, and 13th century fans prepare for battle when spotting an enemy donning Red Sox clothing of any type. It was on one such occasion that my quick thinking saved me from a sever beating by a flock of Jocks. Or is it a litter of hitters, a pack of whackers, a pride of the Yankees , or a herd of such a thing. No matter, to me it felt like a murder of crows!
“Hey girlie, why you got that shit hat over you’re long hair? I can’t tell which smell worse, you ar that hat.” It must be the hat, even a hippie can’t be as smelly as a Red Sox”. “Hey lookie here guys, we got us a stinking Sox fan here looking to get his ass kicked. Or her ass!” “Take that stinking hat off that smelly head and get rid of it.” Well that was the intelligent quips anyway, the dumb ass jock ones aren’t worth remembering. Needless to say I was a bit uncomfortable. This group of roid ramming baseball enthusiasts put the fanatic in the word fan and were willing to share with me the talents they were bred for. Tearing apart dissenters limb from limb. Just for the heinous crime of wearing a Boston Red Sox hat. Well let me tell you, I ain’t no wuss an I ain’t about to let these athletic hoodlums kick the shit out of me! Not this boy!
So as soon as their Yankee Inquisition ended and I was convicted of blasphemy in the 3rd degree, I leaped into action. The best defense is a good offense. In my boldest and most frightening voice I said, “Wait! What are you talking about Red Sox. The guy at the store told me this was a Brooklyn Dodgers hat. See the giant B here?? That stands for Brooklyn. I’m a Brooklyn boy an this is a tribute to my Daddies favorite team.” They began discussing the possibility of the truthfulness of my statements and in the confusion I headed for the hills as fast a this skinny track star could run, hair blowing in the wind. I still have that old hat, and I wear it from time to time just to piss off my Yankee fan friends, but I changed the purported meaning of the big B…I tell them it stands for either Badass or Bullshitter, depending on my mood. …………..Love to all the people of Boston, and all effected by the tragedy. Here in New York we are no strangers to tragedy and your resolve has made us all proud…PEACE