My brother doesn't understand me

I like the Boston Red Sox, and I was disappointed to see on the TV at my health club that they had just lost the playoffs three games to nothing against the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. My brother lives in Los Angeles, but he’s a Dodgers fan so we generally get along just fine. We even speculated on the possibility of watching a World Series between his team and mine. So, I naturally assumed when I left the club that I’d find a voice mail waiting for me on my cell phone commenting on this sad day in my life.

There was no such message, so I called him. He hadn’t watched the end of the game, figuring that the Red Sox had an insurmountable lead. Unfortunately, no lead is insurmountable in baseball, and I sadly informed him that the Sox had lost. “Oh,” he said. “I’ve been playing a new version of Halo on my X-Box.”

I tried to return the conversation to baseball, commenting that a Dodgers-Angels World Series would be really boring. “Yeah,” he said, “people would rather see the Dodgers play the Yankees. By the way, I’ve been writing some interesting stories for the Los Angeles Times.” I didn’t ask. He writes business stories, not baseball stories.

Only a Bostonian would understand that even though I didn’t watch the game I was in a shocking state of grief and pain at that moment. Now I hope those damn New York Yankees go and teach the people of Los Angeles a lesson.