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