The Curse of The Concierge

For all his bragging and calling me a mush, in my career I am 4-2 in the playoffs, but 0-2 when I am with the Concierge.

He was going crazy from the outset, pounding me on the arms when Delgado homered, and choking me when the Mets scored again. We almost came to blows when he blamed me for causing Maine to lose his control. When Delgado homered again to break the tie he wildly jumped causing a domino effect that nearly knocked over my father and my father-in-law. Suffice it to say he was out of control.

But he wasn't the only Met fan out of control. After the game a black woman and a white man engaged in a verbal argument. She called him a fat bastard at least 50 times. On time number 51 he said "I'm not a bastard, I know who my daddy is, do you?" Then he found a beer bottle and spilled it on her head. At that point she reached into her pocket and led everyone to believe she had a knife. The guy was freaking out and he shoved her and ran away. The funny thing is, if the Mets had won, those same to fans would have been hugging and high fiving. But that's what happens when you spend four hours on a cold night in a stadium on Friday the 13th.