Bronx & Beans

I use myself as a case study of this bold claim.

This weekend, I had Sox/Brewers tickets for the game on Friday night. Alas and allack, it rained. Bummer. The game was rescheduled for 8 pm on Saturday night - double bummer, because I had to be at work on Long Island on Sunday morning. Plus, I had already bought a 3 p.m. bus ticket for Saturday. So, I said "aww shucks" and bailed on the game, right?

Getouttahere.

I toughed it out, because these are Red Sox tickets we're talking about. I stayed at a friend's house an extra day, and even bought him and his girlfriend pizza and ice cream as a little "Thanks for putting up with me." I ate my 3 p.m. bus ticket and paid $40 to buy a 12:30 a.m. bus ticket from Boston to New York. Then my wife called and told me I was crazy, and I could sense that I was headed for the doghouse, so I special ordered a bouquet of flowers to cover my butt (and because I love her - hi honey!).

Saturday's make-up game was clipping along until the Sox and Brewers started playing fusbol with the baseball. I looked up at the clock in the sixth inning - it was already nearing 11 p.m., and there was no way I was going to make it to South Station in time to catch my bus. So I peaced out at the 7th inning stretch - just as the Sox had coughed up the lead - and listened to the rest of the game on my walkman in a cab.

Let's recap - between a bus ticket, a cab ride, pizza, ice cream and flowers, I spent around 120 bucks so I could watch 6.5 innings of baseball and then take a four-hour bus ride in the dead of night. Ever sleep on a redeye Greyhound? It ain't comfortable. My spine felt like a jigsaw puzzle when my bus pulled into the Port Authority around 4:10 a.m. on Sunday. And yes, I was on time for work at 8 a.m.

But it was all worth it because the Sox retook first place from - NOT the Yankees - the Tampa Bay Rays.

I challenge Fernandez and LaMonica to come up with a more ridiculous, obsessive, fanatical story about their Yankee fandoms. Ain't gonna happen.

--Whittle