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Message-ID: <44665asstr$1065737407@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Frank Downey" <fabfour.fan@verizon.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 09 Oct 2003 11:10:34 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} The Curse of the Bambino, Part Two--by Frank Downey (still no sex. baseball. <G>)
Date: Thu,  9 Oct 2003 18:10:07 -0400
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Copyright 2003 Frank Downey. All rights reserved. Any use other than
personal archiving requires the permission of the author. Do not repost.

This story contains adult material. If this is illegal where you reside or
if you are underage where you reside, begone.

THE CURSE OF THE BAMBINO

CHAPTER TWO

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER EIGHTH

GAME ONE

 "I was reading ESPN.com," I said to Tim that afternoon.

"Yeah?"

"According to all the experts, I'm going to be giving you a blowjob." I
grinned

He cracked up laughing. "Mitch? Never listen to the experts."

"Yeah, I know, but I must admit, I'm worried. These first two games, the
matchups do not favor the Sox. Tonight is Mussina against Wakefield-Mussina
owns us, and Wakefield's no Yankee killer. Tomorrow is Pettite against Low.
Pettite owns us, and Lowe pitched a lot in that Oakland series. Plus, there'
s no Johnny Damon for those first two games. Plus, they're in Yankee
Stadium. If we can get back to Fenway for game three with a split in the
first two, I'll be delirious."

"I see your point. Have faith, though, buddy. Those Sox just find a way to
win, don't they?"

"True."
-------
I saw Callie before the game. She came up to my room right after supper.

"Mitch?" she asked tentatively after I let her in. "Maybe we should call
this bet off."

"Man, you really hate the idea of sleeping with me, don't you?"

"Actually, it's not that. I've been thinking. What you said the other day is
right. Your end of the deal is too much. I should've never even proposed it.
And I don't think the Sox have a chance."

"Of course you don't, you're a Yankees fan," I smirked.

"Hey, they were pretty evenly matched this year-but the Yankees have more
rest, their rotation is set up the way they want it and the Sox rotation isn
't, and there's no Damon for two games. I mean, come on, Mitch. You really
think the Sox have a chance with Tim Freakin' Wakefield as the first-game
starter?"

"Team of Destiny. I'm telling you." I looked at her. "I'll take my chances
on the bet, Callie."

------------

We all gathered in the lounge on my floor to watch the game.

"Look at all them ugly noggins," Tim joked. Almost all the Red Sox had
shaved their heads after game two of the Oakland series, a morale thing that
Kevin Millar came up with. So far, it was working.

"Why didn't Nomar shave his head?" Melanie asked.

"He's exempt," I laughed. "Millar exempted him, because he's getting married
after the season. To Mia Hamm, the soccer player."

"Millar probably was afraid that Mia would kick his ass if he made Nomar
shave," Tim spouted, to laughter all around.

"I think somebody should shave Mitch's head," Callie giggled. "Solidarity,
and all that."

"Sure," I grinned, surprising her. "Hey, I'll do my part."

The game began.

The first inning looked like it was going to be one of those games. Mussina
mowed down the Sox, and Wakefield's knuckleball danced right past the
Yankees.

The second inning showed the chinks in both pitchers' armor. Mussina walked
two-very unusual for him-and Wakefield gave up a couple hits. Neither team
scored, but the indications were there. Which pitcher would crack, and which
would hold firm?

Bill Mueller got a hit off of Mussina in the third, but the Sox couldn't get
him home. That's when Jack made an observation. "They're taking Mussina deep
in the count, fouling balls off, making him throw a lot of pitches. Mussina'
s great, but he's no workhorse. If they keep taking him deep in the count,
they're going to get to him."

"That's what the Sox do," I said. "That's why they were such a good hitting
team this year."

And, in the top of the fourth, I was proved right. Manny Ramirez reached on
an infield single. David Ortiz, who was zero for twenty-one in his career
against Mussina, stepped in and took his hacks. And I mean took his
hacks-Mussina got two quick strikes on him, and he just kept fouling off
pitch after pitch. Until Mussina got one where Ortiz wanted it, and Ortiz
hammered it into the right field stands. Two-nothing, Boston.

"YEAAAAHHHH!!!" I screamed. "David Ortiz, BABY!" I wasn't the only one.
Everyone in that room except Callie was on their feet.

"What, is everybody except me rooting for the Red Sox?" Callie complained.

"Who roots for the Yankees except life-long Yankee fans?" Tim pointed out.
"It's like rooting for Microsoft or General Motors. There's nothing I like
better than watching George Fucking Steinbrenner cry like a baby."

"Besides which," Melanie said with a little smirk, "we all want Mitch to win
the bet."

"WHAT?" Callie said, incredulous. Melanie just grinned at her. "Well, I
wouldn't count any chickens. The Yankees will get to Wakefield."

They didn't in the fourth. In the fifth, Todd Walker hit this liner to right
that the right field umpire first called foul---but the home plate umpire
overruled him. Home run. Three batters later, it was Manny Ramirez's turn to
take Mussina deep. Four-nothing, Sox.

"So, Callie," Jack teased, "are your panties getting wet yet?"

"It's only one game," Callie grumbled, "and it's not over yet."

"If Wakefield keeps pitching like this, yes it is," I pointed out. Wakefield
had his knuckleball dancing like Gene Kelly, and he was making the Yankees
look foolish. The fifth went by, and the sixth, and Wakefield hadn't allowed
a baserunner since the second. And the Sox strung a few singles together in
the top of the seventh and made the score five to nothing. Callie put her
head in her hands.

"Callie's gonna get laid, Callie's gonna get laid," Melanie taunted.

"IT'S ONLY ONE GAME!" Callie hissed. "Hey, we lost the first game of the
Minnesota series, too."

"Minnesota can't hit like the Sox can," I pointed out.

Wakefield finally lost it in the bottom of the seventh. He walked the first
two batters. Hey, he's a knuckleball pitcher-it happens. I would've left him
in the game to work out of it, but Grady "Quick-Hook" Little doesn't think
that way. Which is one of the many reasons why he sucks as a manager and the
Sox have been winning despite him, not because of him. Callie agreed with
me. "Ah, goody, now we get to the Red Sox bullpen, which sucks. Look out for
the comeback!"

At first, she looked right on. Alan Embree came in to pitch, and promptly
gave up a double to Posada. Matsui followed with a sacrifice fly, and
suddenly it was five to two. Callie was cackling with delight. "Here it
comes! Here it comes!" But it didn't. Embree got himself out of the inning
with no further damage. And, in the eight, the Sox brought in Mike Timlin,
who had been just about unhittable in the Oakland series. He remained so. By
the time the bottom of the ninth rolled around, and the Sox brought in
Williamson to close, even Callie had bowed to the inevitable.

"Only one game," she repeated.

"One down, three to go," I grinned.

"You really want to sleep with me, don't you?" she said wonderingly.

"Yes. But, don't forget. I'd be this happy even if we didn't have this bet.
Beating the Yankees for the pennant? For a Red Sox fan, that's the
 ultimate."

"True," she grinned. "So, what would you pick if you had to? The Sox beating
the Yankees-no, let's say, the Sox winning it all-or a night with me?"

"If it was just a night with you, I'd pick the Sox. If it was a night with
you that led to something more? I'd pick that."

"You're kidding," she gaped.

"How many times do I have to tell you how I feel about you before you
believe it?" She just stared at me. "So," I grinned, "how about a kiss for
an advance payment?"

"Dream on," she grinned, back to her old self.
"We'll get you tomorrow. Lowe pitched a lot in that Oakland series, he's got
to be tired."

"Callie? A news flash for you. Derek Lowe's a sinkerball pitcher. He pitches
better when he's a little tired."

"Oh shit!"

(to be continued as long as the ALCS does <G>)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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