A New York Yankee in Dustin Pedroia’s Court

By: Elizabeth DiPietro

Red Sox fans and Yankee fans are alike in many ways.  They’re both passionate, die-hard, and ruthless.  But I must say, they are a little less so when their team is coming off a six-game losing streak to start the season.   This was the position they found themselves during my jaunt to Boston this past weekend.

When my friends and I planned a trip to Beantown a few weeks ago, I was ecstatic to find out that my beloved Yankees would be in town.  My friend Jessica and I even took off from work Friday to make sure we would arrive before the 2:00 pm start.  I was anticipating some friction between us and the rabid Sox fans immediately upon entering Black Rose Pub, conveniently located stumbling distance from our hotel on State Street.  (No, we didn’t attend the game at Fenway.  Alas, we didn’t have a spare $200 to sit in the nosebleeds.  Sigh.  The pub would have to be good enough.)  We were dressed in full Yankees garb, including the interlocking NY tattoo on my wrist that I couldn’t remove as easily as my Mark Teixeira jersey if the Yankees found themselves down 10-0.

As we entered the bar we got some strange stares, but not the dirty looks or taunts I expected.  I guess you can’t exactly talk smack when your team has yet to garner a win a whole week into the season.  But what commenced soon after were what I like to affectionately call Subtle Boston Mind Games.

I’m sure you’re all familiar with Red Sox fans.  Generally speaking, they’re about as subtle as the proverbial bull in a china shop.  But something must have come over this particular crop, as they knew full well that they hadn’t yet earned their bragging rights, despite the fact that we were infringing on their turf.  It started with the bartender.  Whenever she walked by us to clear our empty glasses, she would puff out her chest and point to the Red Sox logo on her shirt.  I assume this wasn’t so that she could get bigger tips.  Then later, our thirddrink in, she decided to ID Jessica, despite the fact that we’re both pushing thirty and she hadn’t IDed us for the first two rounds.   I didn’t dare order any food.  Who knew what bodily fluids would wind up in it?

Hmmm.  Something strange was going on here.  It was like, if you have something to say, just say it!  When have you people kept your mouths shut in the past?

Well, as the old saying goes, be careful what you wish for; you just might get it.  Phil Hughes labored for two innings and gave up, oh I don’t know, about a hundred runs (sorry for not fact-checking; I was drinking).  Dustin Pedroia did what he does best and humiliated Yankee pitching.  And thus began our own humiliation.  Subtlety went out the door along with Hughes’ dignity.  This also conveniently happened around the time the bar started to get more packed, heading into Friday happy hour territory.  My favorite line of the day was from an unidentified drunk who walked past us and screamed “Yankees f***** suck!”  Apparently creativity went the way of subtlety as well.   At least if you’re going to talk trash, throw some baseball stats at me.  I can take it.

Not all the bar patrons were as, ahem, opinionated.  In fact, some were downright friendly.  Okay, most of the friendly ones were from out of town as well, but still, it was comforting to have allies.  A man and his wife standing next to us who were documenting their vacation via camera took our picture, saying they were going to label it “the two ballsiest chicks in Boston.”  And although we did slink out of the bar at the conclusion of the game with our tails between our legs, I didn’t remove my Teixeira shirt for the rest of the day.  Because even though the Yankees lost that day, and subsequently the series, there was still something special about being in our rivals’ city and unapologetically supporting our boys.

However, in case you do decide to visit when the Yanks are in town, I will leave you with this word of advice.  There’s a traffic law in Boston that states cars must yield in favor of pedestrians, even if they’re not in a crosswalk.

This is a good rule, except if said pedestrian is wearing a Yankees shirt.