Big Papi (or How I Joined The Red Sox Nation!)

Last week, my good friend Rob from Boston was in town. (Not that one, but if you must, North Attleborough Rob would be more appropriate.) As I assume all Bostonians are, Rob is a very serious Red Sox fan. So a certain amount of Rob's visit was spent watching the Red Sox on-line, following the games, looking up the scores, etc. And talking about their feared line-up. The most feared batters in baseball, Rob would say, talking about the one-two punch of David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez. Now, I've got to say, I'm not much of a baseball fan. I'll watch a couple games a year, with someone who likes it a whole lot more than I do, and if the World Series is interesting, maybe I'll tune in. But I do like sports, and so it is easy for me to get into any sport with someone who is excited about it. So with Rob's interest in the Sox, my interest went up. Anyway, it's Rob's last day in town, we're drinking a couple of Krusovices, watching the Red Sox game and making pizza. It's the 8th inning, Boston is up 4-3 against KC and Mark Loretta's at bat. Rob says, "You know who's up next?" To which I say (guess) "Papi!" "That's right," Rob says, "You're in the Sox Nation now." All for knowing that Big Papi's 3rd in the order. We sealed the deal with a high five and a swig of beer. And that's that. Go Sox!