The Best Weekend EVER - Sunday

Yesterday, I left off at the old-time radio reenactment. One more bit to talk about concerning that, then on to Sunday.

Many moons ago, when I worked as a security guard (a tale I'll tell someday soon) I struggled to find things that would keep me awake and alert. This is because I almost exclusively worked the midnight to 8 shift. My favorite nights to work were Friday and Saturday. This is because Morgan White Jr. had his radio show on those nights.

Morgan White Jr. is the absolute master of trivia. And his show at that time (on WMEX, I believe) was a pure joy for a trivia maven like myself. Since most of the show involved the asking and answering of trivia questions, it engaged the mind much more fully, for me, than music or other offerings available via my portable radio. I was constantly challenged by Mr. White and his listeners, and thus I'd stay awake (which was, of course, the minimum requirement for a security guard, but - as you'll see when I write about it someday - not always the case for me.)

On Saturday, Morgan White Jr. was in the audience. During the intermission, I finally got a chance to meet him, and to thank him for the many hours of engaging radio he had provided. I related that my Dad had actually worked with him for a very short time, on WMRE during the 1980's, and Morgan said he had some recollection of that. He was probably just being polite, but who knows? The man does have a prodigious memory.

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On the way home from old-time radio, MY WIFE and I discussed our plans for Sunday. It was supposed to be the opening day of the season for The Bombers, my softball team of many years. Even though I retired from playing following last year, I'm still expecting to go to every game; to coach the bases, keep the book, or manage the team during any absence of Jack Atton, the current manager. What with the new development of having acquired tickets to the seventh game of a Celtics playoff series, it looked like I would have to miss opening day - or, at least, most of it. I hated to do it, but...

Anyway, it was drizzling as we drove home. I expressed my desire for it to either stop raining completely or to pour down from the heavens in buckets. In between is the absolute worst. Nobody is sure whether they'll play until they get a call from the manager, and he's not sure until he gets a call from the commissioner, and he's not sure until the head umpire decides what to do. Everybody would rather have a flood than a drizzle. At least you know where you stand.

For my part, I was hoping for the flood. That way, I wouldn't have to miss the opener and I could go to the Celtics game with a clear conscience, except for having wished a flood upon my softball teammates, of course.

We got home and went to bed. As I drifted off to sleep, I planned my Sunday. Since we have no internet at home, I'd have to get someplace to print out the Celtics tickets. Then I'd go to the softball game (if it wasn't rained out) and then get home to shower quickly, dress for the Celtics (green being the main theme, naturally) and then get to the game in the easiest/quickest fashion, whether that be via public transportation or auto. Rain would make it all much easier, logistically.

SUNDAY

When I awoke at 7am, it was raining hard. It looked as though it was enough to cancel the scheduled softball games. The only thing lacking was the official phone call.

I dressed and drove over to my place of business. Once there, I glanced at my phone and saw that there was a voicemail message. I played it. It was MY WIFE, informing me that Jack Atton had called to say that the games were canceled. Yes!

(This was the first time in my entire life that I had been glad to hear that a sporting event was canceled. And probably the last, too.)

I logged onto my computer, got the e-mail containing the tickets, and then printed them. We would be on our way to game seven in just a couple of hours! In the meantime, I could be leisurely. Not quite enough time for another nap following graham crackers and milk, but you can't have everything.



(In the interest of saving your sanity, I'll skip past my ride home from the office, my shower, my breakfast, what TV shows we watched while waiting to leave, our ride to the game, parking, the actual entering of the arena, and any number of other trivial details I might have used to flesh this out had I not already rambled on for as long as I have.)

(Insert your praise to Jesus here. If not Christian, do a heathen happy dance.)



Well, the game was magnificent. The Celtics routed the Hawks, 99 - 65, and they now move on to face Cleveland and LeBron James. In my memory, the TD BankNorth Garden has never been louder. And that leads to the final bit of this tale.

Throughout the game, I yelled, shouted, screamed, hurrahed, cheered, jeered, chanted, taunted, and otherwise tried my damnedest to be louder than the other 20,000 fans in attendance. As a result, my voice is shot. As you might imagine, this was not a smart thing for a person who voices commercials for a living to do.

I'm rather amazed by this turn of events. I used to "sing" heavy metal. I'd growl, scream, shout; all the usual HM stuff. Never before have I lost my voice via overuse. It's a bit scary, actually, but I'm sure it will return to normal following a day or two of non-activity.

(I have no idea how to embed sound in a blog entry. If I knew how to do so, I'd give you a sample of my regular voice, and then a sample of me today. You'd laugh and laugh, I'm sure. If any of you also have a Blogger account and can give me instructions on how to do this, I'll try to amuse you.)

So, let me recap my weekend.

1 - Went shopping with MY WIFE and had lots of fun acting like a 51-year-old child.

2 - Ate cookies and took a nap.

3 - Scored tickets to game seven of an NBA playoff series involving my favorite team.

4 - Had dinner with some excellent relatives.

(I didn't go into detail about this earlier, in order to save you time. The food was good, the relatives were entertaining, we all laughed a lot. What more could a person ask for and reasonably expect?)

5 - Saw re-creations of excellent old-time radio shows, done by superbly talented performers.

6 - Met a radio personality I have always wanted to meet, and got to thank him for the many hours of pleasant entertainment he gave me.

7 - The one time in my life I wanted a softball game rained out, it happened.

8 - I saw the Celtics crush the Atlanta Hawks. I was part of one of the most intense and satisfying crowds I've ever had the pleasure being in.

I mentioned at the very beginning of this piece that my contentment came via the disappointment of others. Let's recount who had to suffer for my weekend to be the best EVER.

1 - Balcony Gal and Balcony Guy. They had to give up their tickets to the game.

2 - All 200 or so of the folks who participate, or otherwise have a stake, in my softball league. They were rained out.

3 - The entire city of Atlanta.

AND... upon coming into work yesterday, Balcony Guy told me that I could have the tickets for game one of the Cleveland series if I wanted them. He and Balcony Gal have a scheduling conflict.

If I wanted them? Well, does Hillary Clinton want... No, I used that joke in part one. Let's just say that I literally couldn't tell him "No". So, MY WIFE and I are headed back to the Garden tonight. Unlike last time, I will be the quietest person in attendance. However, I expect the other 20,000 screaming maniacs will be able to make up for my slack. And, in my heart? It'll be deafening.

Soon, with more better stuff.

P.S. MY WIFE will see the title of this piece and become slightly perturbed. You see, we were married on a weekend. Until now - truthfully - that has been the undisputed champion as best weekend in my life. Was this better? Well, it was still spent entirely in her company, so if I say, "Yes", she really shouldn't be pissed. Let's just say it was the best weekend ever in this century, and leave it at that.

P.P.S. I let MY WIFE read the rough draft of this whole thing. She liked it, and vouchsafed as to its truthfulness. However, she says that she comes off sounding like a bitchy elf. She's right, of course. For the sake of clarification, I would like to point out that MY WIFE is neither bitchy nor an elf. Thank you.