Three Weeks and a Sweep

My excitement about the baseball playoffs was palpable. Finally, I was going to get to watch a Red Sox game with a group of Red Sox fans. Surely people will be packing the bars to watch the playoffs. My excitement was tempered only by the fact that I had to wait an extra day to see the Sox play. Doffing a Red Sox shirt and hat, I went out looking for a bar to watch the game in. The game started around 6:30 here and much to my surprise, the bars were empty. Now, I didn’t expect Portland to be a huge baseball city seeing as they don’t have a professional team in town to cheer, but I definitely expected more than this. I wound up parking myself in a “sports” bar and watching the first few innings alone. Game one: strike out. It’s just as well, because the Sox played like shit and I decided that flipping between NBC’s Thursday night lineup and the game was more to my liking.
For game two, I went to a bar I found online that said they showed Red Sox games and local fans showed up, The New Old Lompoc. I’d gone there once before, but it was a Saturday game around noon and it was pretty empty. I wasn’t led astray this time. There were several individuals and groups of Sox fans watching the game. Unfortunately, I realized how very much I am not the type of person to go to a bar and talk to anyone. Here I was, amongst a group of like-minded people, and I sat eating my fries (too fast, thus giving me a stomach-ache which eventually led to me leaving so I didn’t accidentally throw up in front of a bunch of strangers) and drinking my cider while not interacting with my fandom brethren. However, I also learned that unless you are in a large bar filled packed with fans cheering, watching in a bar can be kind of awkward. You get two or three people shouting at the TV and trying to start chants and claps like they are at the game. It ends up more irritating than anything. We should all be talking baseball, not yelling at people who will never hear us. By the way, I made it home and never threw up.
In a devilish bit of scheduling, game three started at 9:20 out here. I didn’t even have time to ease into the idea that that this could be the Sox last game of the season and for a while, I didn’t think I’d have to. But the baseball gods had other plans and the Sox lost in heartbreaking fashion. I didn’t expect them to take it all this year, or even win this series, but I really wanted them to put up a fight. It was ugly, but due to the time, I watched it alone (a good thing) and still had the rest of the day to get over it. I took the opportunity to go for a hike through Forest Park and get my bearings on the various hiking trails, of which there are many and all within walking distance. It was a great way to clear my mind.

Seeing Fenway Park on TV instantly made me miss Boston and everything the past two years had to offer. In a way, I’m kind of glad that the Sox lost because I won’t have to experience those feelings for the rest of the playoffs. And after living a World Series championship in Boston, watching the Red Sox in the playoffs just doesn’t feel the same without being there. It’s a feeling that tells me I’m not done with the city of Boston.