A TRUE STORY: How I learned The Yanks Won
by Len Scaffidi
October 17, 2003
OK, somebody paid me a hundred bucks not to watch the Yanks last night. I don't usually take weeknight gigs for my band, but it was a good gig and the start of a three-night stand.
So, there I was, playing in an outdoor courtyard to 100 or so non-baseball fans, while the indoor area was packed around the one small TV over the bar. On our breaks, I would run inside for an update. After the second set, it was 5-2 in the eighth. Things were not looking good, so I went back out and really played the blues.
During the next set, I saw all the glum faces pouring out into the courtyard, and assumed the worst. I'm in North Carolina, playing for a convention crowd, so I've got no idea where these people come from. I'm assuming, however, that the 100 who weren't inside watching the game were visiting from another planet, and that the sad faces coming out of the bar are New Yorkers.
I run inside and ask a waitress what happened.
"Boston won," she said. (Note to self: Next time, ask the bartender.)
The band finishes, packs up and heads to a diner, where I receive neither pity nor commiseration from my cohorts (Philly guy, Cheyenne, WY guy and native NC-dude). Get home, skip SportsCenter. Sleep.
Six hours later, I wake up to NPR (no sports there) and then my wife says "hear about the game?"
"Yeah......." says I. She takes my lack of enthusiasm for lethargy, and starts to give a breathless, convoluted, play-by-play reenactment that could best be described as "Baseball for girls." By the time she gets to the fifth inning, I'm wishing, for the first time in my life, that Linda Cohn was sharing my bed instead of my soul-mate.
"And then the cute one, you know, number 19....blah, blah...." she continues.
I'm looking for both an exit strategy and the clicker, which after gig nights always finds its way to HER side of the bed. So, I get up and head for the bathroom and cut her off somewhere around "Then, the guy from Boston, you know, with the fuzzy hair and the mean face...."
Blah, blah, blah....................
After brushing my teeth, I figure I'm ready for ESPN to give me the bad news in detail. I am also mentally preparing myself for the verbal abuse I'm going to take from friends and family, because I am the product of a mixed marriage: Pop's a Yanks fan, Mom (from Boston) is obviously NOT.
(click)
......"walk-off home run!"
Joy in Mudville.