Authors: John Ritter
Fenway Park became the only baseball venue in America to add a line about hawks to their cautionary warning on the flip side of each ticket.
“Part of the game,” explained Billee. “People have to understand. Just like home runs and foul balls.”
“So, are we going to win the World Series?” asked Stats. “Every year from now on?”
“I don’t know about that,” said Billee, rising from his chair and heading for the gate. “But I think we should be okay until around 2090.”
“Why 2090?” Stats joined Billee in a slow amble across the outfield grass toward the Red Sox dugout.
“Well, because we’re due for about eighty-six years of good luck, wouldn’t you say?”
“Starting back in 2004?”
“Yep.”
“To balance things out?”
“You got it.” He ruffled Stats’s cap. “Come on, I better get you home.”
“Yeah, okay.” A moment later, he asked, “Do you think the chili dogs really did it? Do you think they actually brought the hawks back?”
“I’d put ’em at the top of my list.”
“Oh.” Stats could not hide his disappointment.
“What’s wrong, Stat Man?”
“Well, just to be safe, don’t you think you should fly me around Fenway Park a few more times?”
“Oh, I do. You bet. I was just thinking that myself.”
And they walked on, upon a lush and magical green carpet ready to transport them anywhere.