Message-ID: <44665asstr$1065737407@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: 53ab2750!not-for-mail From: "Frank Downey" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.50.4920.2300 X-Original-Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 09 Oct 2003 11:10:34 EDT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Thu, 09 Oct 2003 15:10:34 GMT Subject: {ASSM} The Curse of the Bambino, Part Two--by Frank Downey (still no sex. baseball. ) Date: Thu, 9 Oct 2003 18:10:07 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, newsman 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 ) -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+