PriorBlog

Last night I went to see a band called the Ponys play at TT the Bears.  They were pretty good, but I had more fun talking to random people.  I’m usually a little more reserved, and don’t make casual conversations with strangers, but I have found that one random conversation can lead to many, especially when there is beer involved.

It all started in the men’s room.  There was a guy at the show who was wearing a Chicago White Sox 2005 World Series Champions t-shirt on.  He was working the urinal while I waited in line, and the whole time I was waiting I was thinking, what kind of smartass remark can I make about the White Sox? 

Making smartass cracks about somebody’s baseball t-shirt is something of an art form.  Personally, I look to impart a gentle put down with an eye towards bonhomie.  This is not always easy. 

For example, last year, at a truck stop along I-91 in Connecticut, I made some comment about a guy’s David Wright t-shirt.  It turned out he was mentally disabled.  Very awkward.  After five minutes of hearing him talk about Jesus, I finally made it back to the car.  Then there was the game at Fenway in which Brett Myers made an ill-advised start against the Sox after being arrested for beating up his wife.  As if things weren’t bad enough for the Phillies fans in attendance that day, the game ended with a David Ortiz walk off homer.  Earlier in the game Pat Burrell came up with the bases loaded and the Red Sox’ backs firmly against the ropes.  He struck out meekly on four pitches.  My dad, who would love nothing more than for Burrell to get his outright release, but who is first and foremost a Red Sox fan, was ecstatic.  He decided to make a comment to a huge guy wearing a Burrell replica jersey (I realize it may seem implausible that somebody would wear a Burrell jersey, but this really did happen.) and made a crack about Burrell being great in the clutch.  I think if the guy had seen it coming, he might have hit my dad.  He was in a foul mood.  He’d just driven 300 miles to see the Phils blow a game they should have won and now some dude was riding him about his shirt.  Sensing trouble, I grabbed my dad by the arm and yelled, “Let’s get out of here!” and we both ran into the crowd before anything could happen.

But those thoughts were far from my head as I watched the man with the White Sox shirt urinating.  Instead, I was thinking of something to say that would show that even though the White Sox won in ’05, I would still always think of them as the essence of MLB mediocrity.  So, as he was leaving the bathroom, I asked him if he’d seen LaMarr Hoyt around lately.  Yeah, he said, hanging out with Denny McLain. 

This is where I hit my home run with the guy, whose name is John, which I guess is kind of ironic. 

John: You know how many games Denny McLain won?
Prior: 30 in ’68.
John: But who was that MVP in the World Series?
Prior: (unable to recall, about to throw out the name Bill Freehan as a total guess) Uh.
John: He was a lefty…
Prior: (remembering) Mickey Lolich!
John: Wow!  Where do you go to school?

It’s nice to see that my knowledge of arcane baseball factoids advances Boston College’s academic reputation.  It’s also nice that people suspect I am fifteen years younger than I really am.  Most importantly, it’s always nice to have an opportunity to ramble on about obscure baseball stories.  I recalled for John and some his friends reading about how Lolich, right before the World Series, complained of a boil developing on his penis.  Whatever they gave him to medicate this ailment he credited with allowing him to mellow out and concentrate better on the mound.  This story led to some intense speculation on the nature of the treatment, which I thought was cortisone, but everybody else thought would have been too strong for a penis.

It turned out though, as the baseball talk went, to my great delight, on and on and on, that John was featured in Dan Shaughnessy’s Curse of the Bambino book.  Getting this out of him was like pulling teeth by the way.  His friend mentioned it, and then John got humble, not wanting to talk about it, which is why I am not mentioning his last name.  I will say though that he is mentioned on page 19 or 22 apparently.  I don’t know.  My dad has the book, so next time I go home I’ll look him up.