(photo from the Boston Herald)
1st pitch into the at-bat, Dougie smokes a 2-out, 2-run dinger into Manny territory – the last row of the Monster seats. I instinctively glance at my phone, expecting my brother to call.
I pick up the phone and dial. It rings four times and sends me straight to voicemail. “Hi this is Kevin, leave me a message.” Beep!
“What are you, dead?” I hang up.
I dial my parents’ house. “Hello, this is Rick.”
Me: “Is Kev dead? He hasn’t called me yet.”
Dad: “Me either. What a shot.”
Me: “Okay, call you later.”
Not two seconds after I put my phone down, it rings. The caller ID reads “Kev Cell.”
Kev: You cannot stop him. You can only hope to contain him. He is Monster Mirabelli!
Me: Heh. That was a Manny shot.
Kev (sustained cheering growing in volume): Doug! E! Fresh! Doug! E! Fresh!
Me: Go watch the game.
Kev: Doug! E! Fresh! Doug! E! Fresh!
Oh, there will be more on the ceremony and the game. Once, you know, I’ve managed to compose myself and stop screaming, “DAVE ROBERTS!!!!!!!” at random intervals.