Have you ever been in a situation where for the right cause you hide your loyalties and you jump on the bandwagon? I have not, but I know a man who has. This man is a happily married man with a handful of kids who loves his Yankees, but for the right price, can jump on the Red Sox bandwagon. A few martinis and a hot blonde can make me do a lot of things, but root for the Yankees is not one of them. Sit back and enjoy the tale.
I was at my favorite bar watching a mid-season game between the Sox and Yanks when I struck up a conversation with another local. I don't think it was the first time we had chatted, but this was definitely a turning point in the friendship. If my memory serves me right the score was tied and I was talking an immense amount of shit about the Yankees. Apparently, my incessant chatter had gotten to a very attractive young lady at the bar. She left her stool and walked over and said she would bet me that the Yankees would win. I asked her what she wanted to bet and for the life of me I can't remember what I offered to pay out, but somehow she offered to lift her shirt. I'm pretty sure that her offer came about due to my inability to concentrate and make eye contact with her, due to her tight white sweater, which seemed to be stretched to it's maximum resistance. The bet was a no-brainer and it became a source for a tense game.
Soon after the bet was made, my new friend seemed confused, rattled, even a little disoriented. He wasn't sure what to do. He knew all about commitment, his lovely wife, his wonderful kids, his love of the Yankees. This was his Eve. The Red Sox and a voluptuous set of foreign (to him) breasts were his apple. Now maybe this choice wasn't truly of biblical proportions, but seriously, how many times can a married man see a young ladies breasts without repercussion or a wad of singles being present? Apparently, enough Ketel One and hot blond was his serpent. I, if for only one night, had converted a long time Yankee fan into a Sox rooting lunatic. Innings rolled by, the score and lead changed and it got towards the end of the game.
By this time, I had drank so much beer, done so many shots, that I didn't know if the Sox were winning or losing. The game was down to it's final pitch. The Sox won and the young lady approached. She shook my hand and very politely congratulated me. She was quite stunning and suggested me and everyone else in the bar go to Atlantic City. I thought for a second, looked at the $100, maybe $200 in my walled and chose against it. She congratulated me again and went to leave. Thoughts of our earlier wager had left my drunken skull, but apparently had not escaped Mr. Married with Children's. He halted her exit and in somewhat slurred speech reminded her of her verbal contract. She returned and stood facing us, one of us on each side of her. She lifted her shirt and despite only showing us her bra, we were content and did not feel it necessary to to dispute the original contract. The young girl left and we shared a few more drinks.
Since that day, we have both shared this story with others, many times within each other's company. It was not a lewd moment by any means and we laugh about the fact that not only was the bet made, but how she so nonchalantly made good on her promise. Even funnier is that in all the time that has passed, I wouldn't know if I've ever seen this person again. Although I'd like to think that in a police lineup I could pick out at least parts of her. It was one of those funny moments, that make a single guy happy and a married guy even happier and nothing actually happened. I think if given the chance we'd both like to thank her and for one night a Yankee fan said "God Bless The Boston Red Sox."
I was at my favorite bar watching a mid-season game between the Sox and Yanks when I struck up a conversation with another local. I don't think it was the first time we had chatted, but this was definitely a turning point in the friendship. If my memory serves me right the score was tied and I was talking an immense amount of shit about the Yankees. Apparently, my incessant chatter had gotten to a very attractive young lady at the bar. She left her stool and walked over and said she would bet me that the Yankees would win. I asked her what she wanted to bet and for the life of me I can't remember what I offered to pay out, but somehow she offered to lift her shirt. I'm pretty sure that her offer came about due to my inability to concentrate and make eye contact with her, due to her tight white sweater, which seemed to be stretched to it's maximum resistance. The bet was a no-brainer and it became a source for a tense game.
Soon after the bet was made, my new friend seemed confused, rattled, even a little disoriented. He wasn't sure what to do. He knew all about commitment, his lovely wife, his wonderful kids, his love of the Yankees. This was his Eve. The Red Sox and a voluptuous set of foreign (to him) breasts were his apple. Now maybe this choice wasn't truly of biblical proportions, but seriously, how many times can a married man see a young ladies breasts without repercussion or a wad of singles being present? Apparently, enough Ketel One and hot blond was his serpent. I, if for only one night, had converted a long time Yankee fan into a Sox rooting lunatic. Innings rolled by, the score and lead changed and it got towards the end of the game.
By this time, I had drank so much beer, done so many shots, that I didn't know if the Sox were winning or losing. The game was down to it's final pitch. The Sox won and the young lady approached. She shook my hand and very politely congratulated me. She was quite stunning and suggested me and everyone else in the bar go to Atlantic City. I thought for a second, looked at the $100, maybe $200 in my walled and chose against it. She congratulated me again and went to leave. Thoughts of our earlier wager had left my drunken skull, but apparently had not escaped Mr. Married with Children's. He halted her exit and in somewhat slurred speech reminded her of her verbal contract. She returned and stood facing us, one of us on each side of her. She lifted her shirt and despite only showing us her bra, we were content and did not feel it necessary to to dispute the original contract. The young girl left and we shared a few more drinks.
Since that day, we have both shared this story with others, many times within each other's company. It was not a lewd moment by any means and we laugh about the fact that not only was the bet made, but how she so nonchalantly made good on her promise. Even funnier is that in all the time that has passed, I wouldn't know if I've ever seen this person again. Although I'd like to think that in a police lineup I could pick out at least parts of her. It was one of those funny moments, that make a single guy happy and a married guy even happier and nothing actually happened. I think if given the chance we'd both like to thank her and for one night a Yankee fan said "God Bless The Boston Red Sox."
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