lately, i’ve been dating october-jeff, also known as playoffs-jeff.
opening day, the regular season and clenching the division all came and went with much fanfare, but i’m not sure they really prepared me for the month of october and baseball voodoo.
the indians won game one of the yankees series, their first of the post-season. therefore, before each game, we reinact the entire afternoon of that first game:
1. go to the grocery store to buy ingredient for salsa, following the same path through the store everytime. i have to run into the rack on the end of aisle 9.
2. make salsa. put it in the fridge to chill. i have to leave for at least an hour and come back before scott gets there.
3. when scott gets there, we stand outside for 15 minutes. i pull weeds and wash my hands twice.
4. then we pile in the car to go to chipotle. i ask scott if he wants to sit in the front seat, he says no, but maybe on the way back.
5. on the way, i have to remind jeff to turn at the the right spot and we have to argue about it for a while. when we get to chipotle we have to park facing maize road.
6. in chipotle, i pick up a menu, jeff takes it, i take it back and set it on the ledge. he gets a chicken burrito with just a little rice, i say that i don’t want anything, and scott gets a steak burrito that the girl has to write C2 on. scott pays (result of a lengthy mitigated fantasy trade) and we start home with me again sitting in the front seat.
7. when we get home, i go get salsa, jeff goes down stairs, and scott gets a plate. i eat chips for the opening pitch, scott warms up his burrito.
8. through out the game, scott and jeff stay in the same places, but i have to rotate various spots through out the room, depending on the inning.
the witchcraft was strong enough to get cleveland through the yankees series and deep into the boston’s.
i did, however, get the boston series off to a bad start by not only not participating in the ritual, but by in boston at the time, across the street from fenway. i was assured that it was my fault.
however, we lost last night, voodoo and all, sending the series back to boston 3-2. jeff has spent the last 16 hours in depression and cold sweats. i’m positive fausto will clench it tomorrow night, but i’m kind of worried about jeff. we’re not to the point of worrying about sharp objects, but only because there is still a sliver of hope to be had.
——————
jeff recently bought me a stack of baseball cards. all indians. all 35 of them. i haven’t had a sports card since i had that basketball cards stint back in ‘91, complete with the micheal jordan trapper keeper.
