How I learned to stop worrying & love the Sox

I Was the Guy at the Family Function Watching Baseball

While combative curling, water basketball, and even shuffleboard are acceptable family activities, I’ve always hated when the gang crowds around the tube for big games. Hollering at televised projections does not constitute positive family time.

Such beliefs have worked to my advantage; I’m pretty sure I once got laid for telling some random chick that I’d have no problem getting married on Super Bowl Sunday if that’s what my fiance wanted.

But if I’m going to march forward with this project, I’ll have to tune in wherever I may be, which tonight was a family function at a restaurant out in the suburbs. As people caught up with one another and shared stories, I nudged up to the bar and watched the game.

I was proud of myself; the Sox were up for a while, and it’s much easier to rap baseball when everybody’s happy. You can nod when someone rhetorically asks: “Now how about that catch?” whereas “Has Oritz hit the ball once yet this year?” demands a semi-learned response.

With this third loss in a row, no doubt every columnist in Boston will soon drop explanations for the mess. I’m not yet capable of even pretending to analyze, but for the moment I’m proud enough that I convinced a few people (including a bartender!) that I was some sort of Sox fan.

The picture above is not my family. We’re not that white. I actually Googled “family reunion portrait,” or something like that, and found this. They’re the “Kuntz.” Really - I couldn’t make this shit up.