The Red Sox have played two out of their three games here. And lost. One more to go. Might I add they only come to Angels Stadium once this year. So they only have one more chance.
Last night was a spectacular blow out. It ended up being 11-3. Despite that final score, two good things came of it. 1) It was Friday night fireworks. I can always get behind a good fireworks show, even if it always ends in
that horrific, sophomoric piece that passes for music called the 1812 Overture. 2) Because the Angels scored 10 runs, everyone in attendance gets free sliders at
Claim Jumper. This is replacing the old
free wings offer from Hooters from last year. For some reason, the Angels aren't scoring as much as they did last year, so this was actually the first time we had an opportunity to enjoy free sliders. Too bad it was at the expense of a Red Sox loss.
By the time the fireworks festivities were over and we escaped the parking lot, the restaurant was only going to be open for another 20 minutes. Since we had 24 hours to get our sliders, we decided to go after today's game, with the hope that the sliders would taste a little better after Beckett got a win for us today.
Except that didn't happen, either. Beckett was doing very well in today's day game and was holding onto a 2-0 lead into the 7th. Inexplicably, at a pitch count that numbered only in the 80s, he gave up a solo home run, and let guys get on 1st and 2nd. He was pulled and the bullpen let those and one more come home, leaving us with a score of 4-2. During the rest of the game, we left a ridiculous number of men on base and ended up losing.
We went to Claim Jumper anyway, this time with the intention of drowning our sorrows in some
more beer. The location we chose to visit was at a world famous
mall, famous because of the high end stores held within it: Black, Starr & Frost, Bottega Veneta, Yves St Laurent, Hermes, Todd's, Christian Dior, Chanel, plus Bloomingdales and Nordstroms.
Our table at the bar offered a view of one of the entrance ways to the mall and Steven was perfectly poised for people watching. We had just finished up and were waiting for the check to arrive, when Steven says, "Hey, guys. That guy looks a lot like Pedroia."
I whip around and catch not only his profile but Mike Lowell's and I say, "Shit, dude. That is Pedroia. And Lowell!" Steven, Daniel and I just sort of stare at each other for a few seconds, each one of us just barely holding ourselves back from using a barstool to break the glass that separated us from two of our favorite Red Sox players.
me: "Well, we can't just go running after them like lunatics."
Daniel: "We can't do nothing, either. I'm going to the car to get the ball and the Sharpie. You guys figure out the bill."
Instead of doing that, Steven and I started to strategize how we would find Pedroia and Lowell in such a big mall with so many stores and restaurants.
Were they bored and want to explore a little before dinner? No. Why would two guys voluntarily go to a mall to "explore?" Well, this is the OC. There are some pretty hot chicks here in some crazy clothes. True. But they're happily married. Ok. Maybe they are here to buy something for their wives? Maybe. But where would they go? Coach? Tiffany? They can order that stuff online anytime. And there's an Hermes in Boston, as well as plenty of other good stores. Pedroia was dressed like a slob; maybe there here for the kick ass sale at Nordstroms and Lowell is going to help Pedroia pick out a few things. Oh, like that wouldn't draw even more attention to them.
These and a hundred other possibilities were offered when Daniel finally returned from the car. The bill was paid and we were off. We were walking at a medium-fast clip, looking into likely stores (but skipping things like Bath & Body Works and Limited) as well as scanning the crowds outside of stores. This is what this
game was training us for. This is our mission. To find Pedroia and Lowell.
We went all the way down to the other end of the mall... where Nordstroms was at it's familiar position down the "snooty" wing of the mall. We went in and decided this would be a perfect location to go from the upper level to the lower level. The place was mobbed. We weaved through sales people and shoppers in the men's department, but did not find them. We escaped the snooty wing without success and needed a new strategy.
They obviously didn't drive here. Why would they be given a car? They don't know where anything is. They had a driver, obviously. For simplicity's sake, they would probably be picked up at the same location where they were dropped off. (Yeah, because we've had so many drivers in the past and know exactly how it works.) Even if the assumption was wrong, we felt that we were getting further and further away from our objective with each passing minute. So we agreed the best thing was to go back to the same hallway where we saw them in the first place and just wait.
We took up positions on benches so we could easily see everyone coming and going, as well as look for any suspicious looking black cars that roll up to the curb. Not ten minutes had elapsed when I saw a short, balding man carrying a Nordstroms bag; he was surrounded by kids holding baseballs. OHMYGODIT'SPEDROIA my head screamed at me. But I couldn't do anything except smack Steven on the arm like I had thousands of times before as only a big sister can.
I heard him say, "I'm sorry, I really have to go; I don't have time." Then he spotted Daniel wearing his Veritek jersey and me in my Red Sox t-shirt and said, "See? There's one of my buddies right there," pointed at Daniel and smiled at me. If I did a big lunge, I could have touched him. And then he walked out and disappeared over the footbridge to one of the hotels across the street.
Lowell was no where to be seen. We hung around for a few more minutes but didn't see him. He might have taken another exit. When I see Pedroia tomorrow at batting practice, I'm going to ask him what he bought at Nordrstroms. I'm dying to know which one of our theories was right.