In a sea of Red or Blue caps, thousands of Angels and Dodgers fans adorned in jerseys, an entire stadium filled with Red White and Blue, I managed to stand out like a sore thumb. Could be because I’m wearing green and yellow, my team colors, yes I know we are out but I don’t care I still rep my city, or it could be because I’m a sex addict and an alcoholic among thousands of drinking and drunk fans. A little awkward at first but then quite familiar, although as seen through entirely new and different eyes.
Every baseball game I’ve ever been to I’ve been drunk. Getting drunk and high on the car ride to the game. Tailgating and getting to know the people parked around us pre-game. Blurry eyed on the way to the seats, which always took at least an inning to find. Cut off from the bar by the fourth. Passed out in a chair by the seventh. Stumbling back to the car and sleeping the whole ride home after, never knowing who won. Tonight was different. Tonight was great.
The Dodgers won tonight, a sweep, killed the Angels, even though they have the awesome and incredible rally monkey cheering them along. No, the Dodgers didn’t need the monkey. They had the skill to kill it, 5-3, and I remember every single moment. I feel really good about that. Which is funny, because I’ve always prided myself on the things I don’t remember. Like being handcuffed by cops after spitting on opposing fans, or sleeping with guys and waking up in the morning confused and a bit ashamed.
I wanted to drink tonight. The first inning, all I could see were people enjoying their cold frosty beverages, so refreshing, so cool, so, tasty. I wanted that ahhhhhhhhhh. The mmmmmmm. I wanted to be passed two beers by a homie and hand one back as he climbs over the railing. I wanted to yell like I did when shitfaced, and high-five guys standing around me after a great hit, or a smooth save. I wanted more than anything to be a part of the crowd.
By the 6th inning, when the booze started to take it’s hold over fans, I no longer wanted to be a part of the crowd. I felt more than happy to sit alongside my dear friend Javies and cheer for the Dodgers, even though my own team is far far away. His is too, silly Yank, but we cheered like the Dodger’s were our own. We acted as if the team was ours. And that’s what they say starts this whole recovery process. Acting as if.
I acted as if I am okay going to a ball game and not getting trashed.
I acted as if I can have a great time even if the people around me are drinking.
I acted as if I didn’t want to drink.
And you know what?
The feeling passed. The overwhelming urge to grab some $8.00 beers passed and all I was left with are the feelings provided by acting as if. But I no longer have to act. I can go to a ball game and not get trashed. I can have a great time, even if the people around me are getting trashed. And I didn’t want to drink. So even though the evening started off a little funny, with me feeling different, it turns out that once again, I’m just like everybody else. A big fan in the stadium of life.