I married a Boston fan
atic and I suddenly became one of them (minus the fanatic part).
I wear that hat, I sing the Neal Diamond song, and I don’t complain when that time of year comes around and
my our t.v. is occupied by highly paid men playing a game.
So, the hat.
I wear it when we (my husband the fanatic and I) go to local baseball games, family picnics, and basically any sports event where there might be a Yankee fan (or two).
Mostly, I wear the hat when I’m too lazy to wash my hair.
You know those Saturdays when you have to run to the grocery store but hope you see no one you know?
You throw a hat on while planning to avoid eye contact with those people who actually did shower.
That’s the plan.
Not true with a Red Sox hat. You can hide under that hat.
I stopped at the post office before the grocery store. I held the door open for a gentleman in front of me; he
smiled smirked and said, “Thanks. In spite of that hat.”
Next stop before I brave the grocery store? The book return at the downtown library. I park the car and head to the book drop only to be accompanied by an apparent Yankee fan. “Awwww! Hope you were reading up on converting.” (Enter 2nd smirk).
So, at Wegmans I find a friend. The guy behind the pizza bar greets me with a pretty long story about how he spent his birthday at the game where Pedro’s number was retired. He assumed I knew what he was talking about (vs being a fan by marriage) so I just acted very impressed.
And I smiled; no smirk needed.
Boston fans do that.