I decided to swing by Craigslist just now to take a look at listings for Friday night’s Sox game, given the fact that far too many people I know wound up at the game tonight and I took in the spectacle first from my couch, then from standing outside the park (hey, I’ve never been in Boston for the playoffs, I wanted to see what it was like), then from my couch again.

I stopped checking out listings the moment I saw standing room only spots going for $325. I understand the desire to jack up the price, given the demand, but further examination of the listings was going to depress me and make me wonder why I went into the humanities for a living, instead of business.

Anyway, my plans for the evening had been pretty simple and ripe for enjoyment: Tom was coming over to the apartment with Spike’s vegan hot dogs and fries, and we were going to cheer on the home team for most of the game before trekking over to Fenway. He arrived, we started enjoying our traditional pre-game feast, and then he received a phone call.

“Um, Vic, I have a dilemma. My friend has an extra ticket and wants to know if I want to go.”

Now, here’s the thing about Tom: he’s pretty much the sweetest, funniest, kindest person you’re going to find. He’s been known to call me on a random afternoon to ask if I’d be up for hitting up the game that night. When I was feeling dejected yesterday because my seasonal employment had just come to an end, he stopped by with ice cream. When neither of us got the opportunity to buy playoff tickets, he got psyched at the chance to cheer at the television with me.

He actually felt badly about skipping out on television with me when he could actually be at the park. He described it as A DILEMMA.

“Are you an idiot? Get the hell out of my house,” I replied with a laugh. “Now! Get to the park!”

“But we said…”

“GET TO THE PARK! If someone called me and said they had a ticket for me, I’d leave you here in an instant. Sorry, but it’s true. It’s a playoff game at Fenway.”

“But I feel kind of disappointed now.”

“OUT! NOW!”

He ran out the door with a promise to call me during “Sweet Caroline” and my camera stowed carefully in his bag, so as to get shots of the game. He called me a short time later to inform me that Ortiz’s home run landed about 30 feet behind him.

He was so sweet about the whole affair leading up to the game that I didn’t even pause to be envious – I just wished him continued fun at the park.

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