Baseball is my life. Well, it was that week, anyway, as I watched the Red Sox battle the Cardinals in the World Series. To be quite honest, the series opener was probably the first full baseball game I ever watched, but that can be our little secret.

I walked into my friend Shannon’s house to watch the game with friends sporting my freshly pressed Red Sox jersey (borrowed from a neighbor), Red Sox hat (also borrowed) and a thick line of black fingerpaint smudged under my eyes. Everybody stared at me, no doubt in jealousy, I assured myself.

“Afraid the glare from the TV might be too bright?” Shannon asked. Muffled laughter filled the room. I joined in, pretending I understood her joke, before desperately trying to change the subject.

“I have been waiting my whole life for this game! First time the Red Sox are in the World Series since 1819 and I’m alive to see it!”

Again the group erupted in laughter.

“First of all, Alex, the year was 1918, and second of all, the Red Sox have been to the World Series since then, they just haven’t won,” Shannon’s brother corrected me.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! I just had to open my mouth and pretend I knew what I was talking about. It was only after I cheered for the Cardinals when they scored a run (hey, all the uniforms look similar!) and made a comment along the lines of, “It is so cool how Matt Damon can balance baseball and acting” that I took my own advice and stopped talking.

At the end of the game, with the Sox winning 11-9, I eased back into the conversation, figuring that with all the excitement of the game, the group would surely have forgotten my silly comments.

“We did it! We really won the World Series!” I hollered, sure to get a positive response. But they just stared at me.

“Series, Alex, as in multiple games. This is only the first of seven,” someone shouted.

I shrugged it off, certain that I would make up for my mistakes the next time the Patriots play in the Superplate.