Close to Home World Series Special

>Pregame.

How'd yuh get tickets to this thing again?

>The Green Line train pulls up to the platform with a loud squeal.

>Celestia flicks a lock of her hair back over her ear and smirks. A long ponytail pokes out from the back of her cap.

>”I gawt my ways. We'right behind home.”

Fakkin' A.

>The two of you board. The princess scans over you with her eyes.

>”That jersey looks nice on yuh,” she remarks, pushing your jacket aside a bit. The train lurches forward.

It's old.

>”Vinnage”

Gaht a hole in th' ahmpit.

>”Gaht charactah.”

That what they cawl it now?

>”It suits you,” she giggles.

I hope that wasn't an insult.

>The princess pecks your cheek.

>”That's fuh me ta know” she whispers.

>The train lurches to a stop at the first station.

So. Dinnah first? Tasty Burger's open.

>”And miss out on stadium food an' ovahpriced booze?” Celestia balks.

We can have both, y'know.

>The princess leans in close again.

>”Yuh know me too well.”

1/

 

>Bottom of the third.

>You rush to your seats and muscle past a couple of rowdies just as Ellsbury steps to the plate.

Can't believe we missed th' first two innings.

>Celestia blushes and scowls.

>”It's nawt my fault. I haven't had a burgah'n ages!”

You ate three!

>”I was hungry!”

>You turn to a nearby spectator.

>”Hey, anything happen yet?”

>”Nothing yet. Thought Gomes was gonna get something last inning, but...” he motions to the scoreboard. No points.

>The bat cracks, snapping you all to attention.

>”Look, Anon! He's going!”

>Ellsbury stops at first.

It's a staht.

>You sit. When you turn to look at Celestia, she's managed to amass an armful of peanuts, on top of which she balances two beers and a foam finger.

>”That's impressive,” the man next to you quips.

>”It's a talent,” Celestia returns.

>The bat cracks again.

Aaaah, Pedroia, get going! Shit!

>The first baseman steps on his mark.

>”Hey, we still got on second,” Celestia points out. “And Papi's up.”

Betcha they walk him.

>”No way they're that lame!”

>The first pitch goes out.

>A ball, followed by another, then another, and another.

>Ortiz strolls to first. You grin smugly.

Told yuh.

>You lift one of the beers off the pile and take it for yourself.

>Napoli steps up to the plate. Celestia discards a bag of shells.

>After four pitches, he walks back to the dugout.

>You sip your beer and watch Gomes approach home.

Think he'll give us something?

>”I've got a good feeling. Feels like a base hit,” Celestia says with a mouth full of peanut.

>The third pitch strikes Gomes' elbow.

Well, it's some kinda hit. Bases loaded now. Who's next? Drew?

>”Victorino.”

>The batter steps up.

>Three fastballs and a curve later, and the ball is sailing towards the Green Monster.

>Closer and closer it flies, until it reaches the wall...

>...and falls short, back onto the field.

>The crowd shouts collectively as Ellsbury, Ortiz, and Gomes cross home plate.

2/

 

>Bottom of the fourth.

>Drew starts the inning with home run out of right field.

>Celestia nearly upturns her remaining peanuts by jumping from her seat.

>”I knew it! I knew he'd come through! Put anothah one on th' bawd!” she yells.

Yuh damn right! Faw up already! It's fakkin' sick!

>Ortiz comes up to bad after Ellsbury makes it to third.

Walk. How much yuh wanna bet?

>The princess grins. “I bet they will. St. Louis is all skittish now. No way they'll let 'im hit.”

>Ortiz steps up to bat.

>The pitcher flings the ball so far wide that the catcher just stands up to catch it.

>As Ortiz walks, you turn to Celestia.

Told yuh.

>”I didn' deny it this time.”

>Napoli walks up to bat. He sends a soft drive to center and sends Ellsbury home, to a chorus of cheers from the stands.

>You and Celestia sit back down.

Victorino's up.

>”Could he hit, you think?”

Already five up, chrissakes. Gonna put even maw awn th' bawd?

>”I think so. I got a good feelin'”

>The first pitch goes out. Victorino swings hard and sends the ball foul into the stands.

>Celestia is furiously munching peanuts.

>The second pitch flies forth. A slider. Victorino swings again, this time shooting a line drive straight into left field.

Fakkin' anothah one! Jesus! They just keep comin'!

>”It's a rout! I don't believe it!” Celestia cries happily.

3/

 

>Top of the fifth.

>Celestia has moved on to popcorn.

>The Red Sox take their places on the field and wait for the first batter.

Hey, how's that book comin' along? Wasn' onna yuh guys down th' university doin' a thing on Stahswirl?

>”I thought I told yuh! They sent it out tuh th' publishing house like a week ago!”

So no maw innaviews? Those book guys shuah knew how ta poke around.

>”They weren't bahtherin' yuh, were they?”

Naht much. Just asked a couple questions now'n then.

>You stare at the now-empty popcorn bag.

How yuh doing that?

>”Would yuh believe me if I said magic?”

>You rest your head on your hand.

At this point, prahb'ly

>”Good!” she laughs. “Want some?”

...Aight.

4/

 

>Bottom of the seventh.

>You're on your second hotdog and eighth beer.

>”Can't believe we gawt this fah,” Celestia remarks as the inning ends. “Doesn' seem real, y'know? We're really back.”

Cheeahs ta that, Celly.

>You laugh to yourself.

An' no Lu ta talk shit, am I right?

>”She's gonna be pissed.”

I like that. It'll make work fun tomorrah.

>”Is she still coming 'round the council?”

Only when she needs ta vent.

>”Think she'll need ta vent tomorrah?”

Wouldn' you?

>The princess leans on your shoulder silently.

I'll take that as a yes.

5/

 

>Top of the ninth.

>It's quiet.

>Uehara steps up to the pitcher's mound.

>He rolls the white leather ball in his hand, staring down the batter.

>You lean forward in anticipation, carefully bringing your beer to your lips.

>The pile of discarded hotdog wrappers is growing next to you.

>Just as you turn and see the frankfurter half-hanging from her mouth most un-daintily, Celestia and the rest of the crowd leap up in a chorus of shouts and cheers.

>One out.

>The crowd settles down.

>The princess wolfs the rest of the frank and reaches for another from the tray by her feet.

>Uehara lets fly again.

>The batter connects. You watch the ball arc over left field.

Gomes...Gomes...Gomes...Gomes! Ee-yes!

>Gomes picks the ball out of the air, eliciting another round of cheers from the crowd.

>”That's two! That's two!” Celestia cries.

>You're both on your feet now, watching Uehara size up the next batter.

>Silence falls over Fenway again.

>The first pitch goes out.

>Strike.

>The crowd draws a collective breath.

>The second pitch flies.

>Eyes go wide as the bat hits.

>Ball.

>The crowd hangs on its breath.

>A third pitch.

>Another ball.

>Another held breath.

>A fourth.

>The bat swings out and sends the ball away...

>Into foul territory.

>Strike two.

>The crowd lets out a sigh of relief.

>Uehara pauses and collects himself on the mound.

>Yet another pitch.

>The batter knocks it away again, foul.

>The sixth flies.

>And once more flies foul.

>The atmosphere in the stands is oppressive. Everyone leans forward in anticipation.

>Uehara makes the seventh pitch.

>You watch the batter swing, almost in slow motion.

>The ball sails over home plate and connects with the catcher's mitt with a dull, resounding thud.

>Strike three.

>Fenway Park erupts.

>Celestia leaps into you and plants her lips over yours.

6/

 

>Postgame.

>Lansdowne Street is filled with people within minutes.

>By the time you manage to get to Brookline, the celebration has spilled out into the surrounding area.

So, scale a one ta 1872, how on fiah's Southie right now?

>Celestia punches your arm.

>”Let's get outta heah 'faw they staht flippin' cahs!”

That's my fav'rite paht!

>She grabs you again.

>”Ah, my Gawd, Anon we won! They pulled through! Worst to first in one season!” the princess cries, squeezing you as you try to walk with the crowd.

Like a dream, right?

>”If it's a dream, I don' wanna wake up!”

>You glance into a nearby bar at the clock.

Well, we still gawt time. Who says we gotta wake up just yet?

End