Lover of Women, Conquerer of Nations: Dear future wife: We have business to go over
By Bobby McMahon, senior writer
Posted on April 13, 2006

Dear future wife,

Hello, my darling. You don’t know it yet, but you and I are going to be married someday. Married, as in ‘til death do us part. That’s a mighty long time. I bet you’re enjoying all the riches of your youth, living it up in college (or high school) and learning much about the ways of the world. You’re probably a woman of style and grace, of understanding and compassion, and I look forward to the day when we share our nuptials, consummate our marriage and then head to the reception.

Before we do any of that, however, there are some things you should know about our life together, namely that by exchanging vows with me you are agreeing to serve your life for the Boston Red Sox. For our marriage to be successful, I ask for your patience through the realities of Red Sox fandom, which include mood swings, obscenity-laden outbursts and the occasional broken glass that was thrown because Lenny DiNardo doesn’t want to throw strikes today. Moreover, I ask for your understanding when I refuse to change my underwear during the playoffs, and I ask you not to hit me when I inadvertently yell out Carlton Fisk’s name in the height of passion.

Speaking of copulation, you should know that I feel called as a Red Sox fan to name one or more of our children after the past and present greats of the Red Sox Universe. Depending upon the number of children you bear, you should consider placing these names at the top of your list: Curt Schilling McMahon, Carl Yaztremski McMahon, Theodore “Ted” Williams McMahon, David Ortiz McMahon and Tim Rice McMahon. Under no circumstances will we name our children Bucky, Mookie or Aaron, as the mere mention of those names will send me spiraling into a tornado of anger that you and the children shouldn’t have to suffer through. I would like to start building our family as soon as possible, as in a rather shortsighted move, I have promised my left testicle to the baseball gods in exchange for a Red Sox World Series Championship. Since they have held up their end of the bargain, I can’t help but think that my more potent days may be over.

Our home must provide a safe and stable environment to raise Red Sox fans, and thus we must give our children the best of everything we have, namely satellite TV. I will not let Little Carl and Curt grow up watching baseball on Fox, their young minds poisoned by the likes of Tim McCarver and Joe Buck, whose collective knowledge of baseball equals that of a sleuth of pandas. DirecTV has some excellent packages that will provide NESN (New England Sports Network — you should already know this) at very reasonable prices, allowing our children to watch most Red Sox games and providing the 24-hour insightful analysis that they deserve.

Wifey, I will love you with all my heart, all my soul, and with every ounce of my being, but, if you ever show yourself to be a jinx, hex or other malicious metaphysical malady toward the Red Sox, I will not allow you to watch games with me, ever. In fact, until you have been exorcized of your hex-spewing demons (there may be some minor burning involved), you shan’t be allowed to enter the living room during a game, come with me to the park or wear any Red Sox clothing that will send your jinx onto a Red Sox player (hexes on Roger Clemens, however, are encouraged).

Remember, honey-pumpkin, I loved the Red Sox long before I loved you (do the words “wake me up before you go-go” mean anything to you?), and it would behoove you to keep this in mind. I look forward to the day when we will be together, and as long as you follow these guidelines, our marriage will be filled with love and joy. Unless, of course, you curse the team, David Ortiz’s shoulder explodes and the Red Sox move to Brooklyn, and then our marriage will be filled with gloom, bitterness and soul-consuming desperation. Let us hope for the former.

Your Devoted Husb — shoot, game’s back on, bye!

Bobby McMahon is a senior political science major, and has worn the same Red Sox hat since junior high.