Nine Innings

I have a thing for the number nine.

My bestie's getting married on 9/9 and I'm just superstitious enough to think that's for the best. My phone number is compiled of numerically consecutive multiples of nine. Often the ninth of any month is the best day.

I could go on and really take you through the crazy, but I'll refrain.

For the purpose of this post, you need only remember the awesomeness of nine innings of baseball.

..........

Have you ever smiled so much, and for so long, that your face literally starts to ache? 

If so, then you are one of the lucky ones. You are one of those people who can stand to exceed the physical limitations of how happy one can possibly bee. (That spelling is not a typo. That spelling is an homage to Eric Marshall.)

Last night, my smile kicked my ass. It was one of those face-hurting nights.

You know, I've been having more and more of those nights lately, and that's pretty awesome. My cheeks are gettin' a sick workout.

(Flash to scene: I'm standing in front of one of those huge gym mirrors dressed in full sweatsuit attire and wearing a sweatband, smiling and unmoving. A really muscular bro walks by and pauses for a moment, studies my determinate stance, then says: "Nice cheeks, dude." He walks away, shaking his head, he is both in awe of my insanely toned cheek muscles and reminding himself to work on his cheek muscles during his cardio tomorrow. This illustrative digression has been brought to you by Katie's Wicked Good Mood.)

So, last night. Smiling. Right...

Last night Nick & I went to the Red Sox game, pretty much on a whim.

On Monday, while driving back from Vermont with my parents, we had a textversation:

Nick: "Do you have plans Wednesday night?"
Katie: "Nope. You?"
N: "I just got tickets to the Red Sox game."
Kt: "And you want to take me?"
N: "I do!"

Immediately following that message I may have squealed and clapped, which alerted my mother - who was driving - that something mayjah was goin' down.

Mom: "What's going on?"
Kt: "Nick got tickets to the Sox game Wednesday!"
M: "Oh! Nice! Is he taking you?"

Now, I'm a nice person, and I do enjoy watching others succeed and have nice things... but I wouldn't exactly be squealing in excitement for Nick's good fortune if he got the Sox tickets and was just letting me know.

Just sayin'.

Anyway, so, we arrive at a rainy Fenway park to attend what I've then realized is my first night game ever. Also, it was the first game at which I did not purchase a single twenty billion dollar Solo cup of beer. Cheers.

As is typical, as soon as I stepped ontoYawkey Way, I felt like a kid and I started smiling like an idiot. Then, I feel the Fenway vibe turning it into one of those goofy grins that I can't really control. Seeing NESN & Tom Caron makes me smile every time. Then, Eck stories made me smile. Oh, and Bill Lee made me smile. And, of course Nick made me smile. Then a Papi HR made me smile...

I was overwhelmed... in the good way.

So, okay, the abbreviated version of our journey at Fenway went something like this:

Stage One: Fenway Franks.
Stage Two: Seats in the bleachers, row 37.
Stage Three: The incarnation of Chris in row 36.
Stage Four: Drying off.
Stage Five: Walking around.
Stage Six: Being ushered into the second row inches from the Twins' dugout to watch the rain disappear and the Sox win.

Go ahead, you can reread the sixth stage.

Got it? Yeah...

Now, I've left out some stuff, because I want to let Nick tell you how that all went down. It's only right... most of the Fenway freakiness was happening to him. I was just a willing participant along for a lucky, lucky ride to a field box at Fenway Park and half piece of baseball card bubble gum.

Oh, yeah, and an awesome cheek workout.