By mid June of last year I was feeling a bit burnt out. Teaching middle school had taken its toll on me, and I was feeling incredibly stressed about finishing the curriculum on time. With each passing day, my colleagues in the department were moving further and further past me with the material being covered. It had gotten so bad, that some of my students had begun to ask why their friends in other classes had finished this unit in May. My department chair had a meeting with me to discuss strategies of how I could catch up with everybody else. It was a professional low point.
Around May, my cell phone decided that it was no longer going to work. Essentially it became a nice little pocket watch. Texts and calls were not an option, but it was able to save all my phone numbers. Verizon was not to understanding, and basically my options were to tough it out for another month before I would get my phone.
Luckily, in the apartment was a rotary phone that I bought at a street fair in Brooklyn about two years ago. It was great to have, not as convenient as a cell phone though, but beggars can not be choosers. If I was having a whiskey on the rocks after work, I found myself making excuses to use the phone. I felt like I was on Madmen.
It was on the morning of the 11th of June that I went into work, tired, stressed, and annoyed. The Yanks had just finished their 7th consecutive loss to the Red Sox, and I had to listen to the gloating. It was crazy, they could not buy a freaken win against these guys. The AL East standings in my classroom would show that despite the run the Yanks had made, they were two games back the Sox, blowing away their AL East lead. At this point a play off appearance was about as likely as Ronny Rhodes winning the Biggest Loser.
When I got home from work, it became clear that I needed to let off some steam. From my last trip down to Long Island, I brought up some Blue Point Summer Ale. It had been sitting in my room for about two weeks now. 12 beers from my good friends at Blue Bell Beverages of Greenlawn.
I got out some quizzes and began to grade them while the beers cooled down in the fridge before game time. I was going to modify a plan that I learned from my very brief career as a bartender at the Artful Dodger.
A guy would come in around 7:30 on Tuesdays and order a couple of rounds of Killian's. Since he made up half the total population of the bar we would have some pretty good conversations. He was also a huge Yankee fan, and a great person to watch the games with. Didn't take up too much air time during the game, but had some really interesting anecdotes about going to the Stadium in the mid and late 90s.
During his "wild years" as he fondly called them, he and his buddies had developed a strategy to end any losing streak the Yankees were suffering through. A simple, two part formula that had to be followed was the key to their success.
I. You needed to consume one beer an inning. If you finished before the inning was over, you were not to pause, but continue.
II. Take a shot every time the Yankees score a run.
This slump buster, was apparently fool proof when all this buddies did this together as a team.
So, several years later and in the comforts of my living room, I took it upon myself to try his policy to stop the skid against the Sox.
As C.C. pitched, I pounded my Blue Points pretty quickly. It is amazing how much you can accomplish when you have a purpose. I would say by the 6th inning, the 12 pack was gone and I had raided the fridge for some Harpoons. Other than Ortiz's shot, things did not look to bad for the Yanks, and I relaxed a bit.
It was during the bottom of the 7th inning, flush from a 3 run Yankee attack, that I began to make some phone calls using the rotary phone. That was a challenge. Drunk and naturally uncoordinated people were not mean to use a rotary phone. Half way through dialing a number I forgot who I was calling, hung up and dialed my parents. (apparently for the second time that night)
When it fell apart in the bottom of the 8th, I was seething. I was talking to Billy at the time, and must have been on the phone with him for awhile. The title, was my apparent closing remarks before I hung up the phone on him.
*Note: I am not a violent person by any means, or a violent drunk for that matter. In the events that follow, I am completely out of character.
I threw the stuffed fake moose head we had at the wall by the T.V. This left a nice little dent in the wall. After that I flipped over the glass coffee table in the living room. It was at that moment, I realized that I was being a complete asshole. However, it was too late, there was a mound of shattered glass in the middle of the room.
I do not recall cleaning up the mess, but I did an outstanding job. No glass shards were ever found in the rug or anywhere for that matter. I also took the liberty to write an apology note to my roommates and hammer it (no nail was used, but a screw) to the entrance of the living room.
Work sucked the next day.
This was left in my room, and I was hung over to boot. afterwards. I was mad at myself for acting like an immature ass and not having a lunch at work as well.
I know I am not the first fan to break furniture after a loss, but I plan on being a first time offender.
