Justin Masterson

By Broseph © 2009

Btreoch and I decide to hit up a Monday afternoon spring training game, Bosox vs. Blue Jays, at a beach town about an hour away. I call in sick to work and make my way over to pick him up. On the way out, he requests an ATM stop at his local branch and I oblige. Eventually, he makes his way back, sits down and asks, "Hey, you see that tool bag in the silver Hummer, with all the UCF stickers? Guess how much money he has in his checking account?"

I guessed about $12,000.

"Try $16,547."

"How do you know that?"

He pulls out the guys ATM receipt. Turns out the guy carelessly left it behind. Or maybe he does that all the time to purposely impress other bank members. Either way, he unknowingly did me a favor.

I asked Btreoch if he thought about telling the guy, or perhaps throwing it out.

"Normally," he said, "I would have but the guy was taking way too long, had no sense of urgency, and was wasting my time. He annoyed me, so I grabbed it."

I asked for the receipt, and after examining it, I put it in my pocket.

We made our way to the stadium and arrived to find a mass of fans for a sold out game. We were able to purchase "standing room only tickets." A new fucking concept to me, these tickets allowed us to sit in unoccupied seats or stand along the rails. It being a sold out venue, we were soon booted from our prime seats near 3rd. We ventured around, eventually standing in the sun on the left field line.

The game was interesting enough, but I needed more excitement. I noticed two young ladies standing on the rail near us, decked out in Bosox regalia and holding a bottle of sun screen. About my age, they were attractive and fit the profile of girls I would normally bone sober. I was wearing my Rays cap, but I didn't let that stop me from trying my luck.

I approached one and asked if I could use their lotion. "I called in sick to work to see the game today," I told the overly tan blond one, "and it would look bad if I came in tomorrow all sunburn."

They were totally cool with it. The brunette smiled and said "Yeah, sure, of course!"

Her friend requested I take off my hat and glasses, and I began applying a little bit too much sun screen to my face and neck. I made some small talk, confirming they were actual Massachusetts Bosox girls and not wannabe whores.

About a minute in, I showed the difficulty I was having fully applying the sun screen. They were giggling at me. I smiled back, asking, "You know, I always have trouble putting this stuff on without a mirror, could you help me?"

After more giggling and a slight hesitation, the brunette smiled and obliged by rubbing the areas right below my eyes, moving down to my cheek. Then the blond saw some missed spots on my neck, and she joined in. I couldn't believe how well this was all going. I was watching baseball, drinking beer, and being rubbed on by two out of towners.

People around us started to notice the fun I was having, including Btreoch. Waiting in the wings up to this point, he approached with some beer cups we emptied earlier.

"You Boston girls like dark beer?"

After the sunscreen application and some more small talk, we went to the concourse. Much to the girls surprise, we went past the concession stands to an large white tent.

To the untrained eye, the beer situation at this particular stadium borders on pathetic. Standard concessions, $5 beers, choices only Bud and Bud Light drafts, but a hidden gem existed. The initial scouting we did before proved worth it, as we found a back, sort of out of the way tent that sold some darker brews for $5.50. After our first purchase, we discovered a flaw in it's distribution system. One station for beer, one for money/cups. Empty containers in hand, we simply bypassed the money takers.

We were able to reuse our cups to get free beers during busy periods. The Bosox girls were not wise to this. We took their cups on the guise of recycling, making it look like we bought multiple rounds of beers over the next hour. The two of us ended up looking like real money spenders.

After more beer we found out that the blond one was married to a Bosox pitcher, Justin Masterson. She was tall and sunburn, fitting the profile of a out of town trophy wife. Her friend the brunette mentioned the blond was a players wife, which surprised me as they were both about my age. I remember the blond said his name like he was a product, not a person. The brunette was crunchy, with a long brown skirt, and an orange tank top that housed orange sized bosoms. She also wore those big, sort of retro glasses which was crowned by her shoulder length hair. I was interested in her immensely as she seemed the most likely to want to join in marijuana smoking, making out and eventual fucking. Coupled with her free wielding sun lotion capacity, I decided to try for further contact.

The game was getting on. The blond mentioned they had to go see her hurler husband, who had just pitched three innings. I decided to try my luck once again, and gave the brunette my phone number. I remembered I had that ATM receipt so I quickly wrote my name and number on it, gave it to her, wished them well, and got another free beer.

Btreoch and I were convinced she wouldn't call. They were moving on after the game and not prime suspects for shots of tequila at the Mexican place down the street. But after about a half hour my phone rings with a weird area code and I nearly jump over the rail with excitement to answer.

A female voice says, "Hey, is this Broseph?"

"Yeah."

"What's goin on?"

It was her.

"Did you know you gave me your bank receipt?" she replied. "Your account number is on it."

I smiled a bit, knowing it wasn't mine, and said "Well, I think its just the partial account number, there are some X's and stuff, it's all good."

I quickly changed the subject and asked "What are you doing now?" I tried to keep from laughing. Btreoch is silent but his eyes conveyed excitement that I was making headway.

Long story short, she agrees to meet up for drinks, but only for a little while (yeah right). We go to the Mexican place and Btreoch orders a round of double tequila shots. We eat dinner and have more drinks. Btreoch has a girl, so he hangs for a bit and takes the car home. The blond one never showed as she went to receive some post game fucking probably. Alone at last, brunette girl and I cab to her beach hotel in Dunedin where we smoke several joints by the water and talk about how much we both love Bob Dylan. The sun sets and we begin making out, eventually getting naked, running around and jumping in the water. Thankfully I had a few rubbers in my bag, along with a towel and a water bottle. We fuck all night... on the beach, the water and on a bed. I end up sleeping in the team hotel while the blond one is down the hall probably wondering why her friend never returned her 15 phone calls throughout the night.

I made it clear during the all night love making session that I would need a ride in the morning. This seemed like the best time to breech this subject as she was being very agreeable to my requests and moaning a lot. In the morning the brunette takes the Masterson car keys and drives me back an hour plus to my house. Half way through I ask to drive and she obliges. The whole time I thought about stopping to buy a lottery ticket because my luck was unstoppable, but decided to keep driving. A little bored, I started to caress her leg and smiled at her. Much to my surprise, this led to more frisky behavior while driving and eventual roadhead, which I thought was a nice gesture. I thought I was going to be late to work but luckily made it back with just enough time to change and motor in on time.

When we parted ways, I asked her where she was going after this. She went to Ft Myers, where she was staying for the week with her friends and the Bosox, and then back to Mass. I told her I would see her on Facebook or whatever.

The next day Btreoch asked me if I though about how much dick this girl probably got rammed with hanging around minor league baseball players all the time. I really hadn't. I rest my hopes on the fact that I caught her early in her trip and that I covered up for 75% of the time.

In retrospect, I find it hilarious she called me telling me she had my bank slip. She could have easily just called and not mentioned it. The fact she mentioned it slays me as I probably make 16,000 a year after expenses. I wish I could find that tool bag in the silver hummer just to thank him. Brunette girl, come see me in Tampa next time your in town.


Broseph is student and musician from Tampa, FL. He's also a contributor to Coventry Music Blog.