Preliminary planning for this year’s BroSox Adventure began on a dismal rainy night at La Mexicana Restaurant and Grocery Store on Central Fucking Avenue. Sidling into one of several empty booths at this cheery hole-in-the-wall, Skip and I dove into brainstorming for what marks the 10th anniversary of our very first Boston Red Sox trip, so it’s got to be epic. Go Big or Go Home (Plate). See, I know baseball lingo. Strike! Dug-out! (The word says it.)
Here is some music to go with our food, and a mock-margarita that is just pure Jose Cuervo margarita mix minus any alcohol, rimmed with salt and adored with a slice of lime. Totally as awful as it sounds, but when in Rome! The company was good, and the food was delicious, so you take the wins when you can, and on a cold rainy night in March, a Mexican meal with an old friend is comfort indeed.
My proposal for #BroSox10 is an ambitious two-page itinerary of box items that touch on classic moments and memories over the past decade of BroSox adventures, with the intent to check off as many as we feel up to doing. The expectation is that two or three might get checked off if we get off our lazy asses and front stoop – no promises for much more beyond that. Perhaps we’ll rally and drive through all of them, or perhaps we’ll meet somewhere in the middle – whatever the outcome, it’s bound to be fun and chill and just what my world needs in such dark times.
Part of the fun is in the planning, so we’ll delve into details and cement game dates as we get deeper into spring. It’s a banner year for so many reasons… stay tuned. And if you have any suggestions what two mid-to-late-forty-something gents should do when in Beantown, send them my way. Skip is always up for a dare.
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