Tuesday, April 04, 2006

Opening Day, April 3, 2006

“I don’t care about your jackass of a team.”

The old lady, who has been in a perpetual pre-menopausal state, finally had enough. It was the middle of the fourth inning, the Phillies were behind 10-0 – TEN TO FUCKING NOTHING! – and I decided to call the billing department of my internet provider. Not to cancel the service, although, if Opening Day was any indication, I might want to refrain from surfing mlb.com or the home team’s site so as not to exacerbate the pain.

Oh, the pain. The misery. I love it. I love misery.

I’m a Phillies fan.

“You want me to get the ball and chain?” my would-be Madam continued, the schadenfreude showing. My loud moan had filled our comfortable living room in our cozy Philadelphia rowhome. The metaphorical self-flagellation had begun. Or was it really masochism? The wife painted some rather gruff pictures to describe parallel situations.

“Gee, why don’t I just pee or shit on ya?” she queried, noting, painfully, that the game had taken a hopeless turn. “Or how about I get a dildo and ram it up your butt like the Sopranos guy? Really, it’s the same thing. How long is this one gonna last?”

“It’s only the fourth inning.”

“Great.”

She’s a sweetheart. The lady on the phone, that is. She had the fortune of sitting in Virginia and not being a sports fan. We chatted as she corrected the $16 mistake on the bill.

“So is your husband or boyfriend a sports fan?” I asked, you know, friendly-like. Just making conversation.

“Oh yeah. All those New York teams.”

“Oh, no,” I exhaled unhappily. “The evil empire.”

She laughed. Good thing the old lady moved downstairs to do the laundry. Phone lady got talky.

“I get on him all the time with the sports, and he gets on me all the time about the girl movies, and the women’s channel – you know, Lifetime?”

“Oh, Yeah. Ah-huh.”
“He calls that the ‘Man-beatin’ channel,” she revealed.

I changed the topic.

“Hey, the Phillies scored a run! It’s 10-1. You’re lucky for us. How we coming along on the credit?”

“You’re all set.”

Well, the final score was 13-5. Hooray for the Phillies. It rained; they lost. Just another miserable day.

I love being miserable because the Philadelphian knows to fear success, as impending doom waits around the corner. Flee the good, as it only leads to the bad. Look upon the victory with suspicion, because the loss is near. You get the idea.