Boots on ground game 4 World Series. What kind of friend should I be?

I am going to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, today to meet my friend Jeff Sunday, who was there last night and watched his Rays lose 10-1, with the 1 run coming in the bottom of the 9th inning with 2 outs.

Just kidding, I’m going to St. Petersburg, Florida, but if you would’ve heard the ROARS for the Brewers last night in the stands, you absolutely would’ve thought it was in Wisconsin. I genuinely believe there were more Brewers fans in that stadium last night than there are people currently living in the entire Tampa Bay metropolitan area.

But anyways, I digress. That is not the point I’m trying to make here.

We’re in a pretty unique situation here. Pikkit Sports (shoutout to Pikkit) got myself and Jeff tickets to Game 4 of the World Series before the series started. Obviously, we didn’t know they’d be down 3-0, coming off one of the worst losses in World Series history. I was thinking maybe down 2-1, absolute WORST case scenario, but nevertheless, here we are.

And that brings me to my dilemma.

What kind of friend should I be?

I’m asking this question with the utmost sincerity because I believe the decision I make today could permanently alter the trajectory of a friendship. This isn’t simply about baseball anymore. 

As a Magic, Gators, Vikings fan, I haven’t experienced much success. 1 Finals appearance and 1 CBB National Championship in last 15+ years. 

And perhaps that’s why this situation is so difficult.

Because for once, I’m not the victim.

I have the opportunity to become the villain.

Should I pile it on here? Should I make as many jokes about piss breaks and beating the traffic as humanly possible? Should I start checking Uber prices in the third inning and talk about beating the traffic? Should I loudly announce that we might be able to catch the end of another sporting event if we leave before the fifth?

Should I absolutely NUKE the Brewers moneyline? Alt run lines? Chourio dinger? Contreras dinger? 

And what happens if the Brewers go up 5-0 in the second inning? Do I celebrate? Do I stand up? Do I high-five complete strangers wearing Milwaukee jerseys? Do I start a “LET’S GO BREWERS” chant?

 

These are the questions that kept me up last night(90 sleep score).

Because there is another path.

The path of compassion.

I could be a good, supportive friend. I could bet every Rays player to get a hit. I could spend the entire game telling Jeff that baseball is a funny sport and anything can happen. I could say things like, “All we need is a couple of baserunners,” while the Rays are down 7-1 in the fourth inning and have recorded exactly two hits.

When Jeff inevitably suggests we beat the traffic, I could agree with him. Not because I actually want to leave, but because sometimes friendship means sacrificing your own happiness to protect the emotional well-being of another man.

When he says he has to pee for the sixth time in four innings, I could say, “You know what, Jeff? Me too.” Even though I don’t. Even though my bladder is completely empty. Even though I haven’t consumed a beverage in three hours(I will be hammered).

I could even fling peanut shells at unsuspecting Brewers fans in a desperate attempt to establish some sense of home-field advantage.

I come to you, the good people of the internet, for guidance.

Do I choose kindness? Compassion? Brotherhood?

Or do I choose violence?

Do I extend a hand to a friend in need, or do I spend nine innings systematically dismantling what little hope he has left?

I would genuinely appreciate input from anyone who took the time to read this very short article. I do not take this decision lightly, and I believe the moral implications could extend far beyond the confines of a baseball stadium.

One thing is for sure: Today, I will take you on a journey no Tampa resident has ever taken before.

A ten-minute drive over a bridge.