"Argh!" That’s the greeting I get when I walk into a room where my husband is watching a Met game. "As soon as you step in here…it never fails!"
He’s talking about me as a jinx. According to him, every time I come near a Met game, they begin performing like a bunch of little leaguers. I recently saw a game Pedro pitched at Shea, and he looked a little foolish, I admit. But they were playing the Orioles, for God’s sake! I wanted the Mets to win!
Sometimes I wish I had the power of a jinx. That would mean I could affect the outcome of things as I saw fit, right? The definition of a jinx, according to Webster, is "one that brings bad luck." If I truly brought bad luck, a few key trips to Boston might be kinda’ cool.
And if I am such a jinx, how have the Yankees mustered so many wins over the past ten years? I’ve seen or heard almost every one of those games and they won a lot of them, in case you didn’t know.
The latest "jinx" incident came when I asked my husband if he would like to get Met playoff tickets. He wasn’t very happy about the question. I was truly approaching him with a family, financial decision. Afterall, playoff tickets cost a lotta’ money.
"I’m not picking on you," he said, knowing I’m sensitive about the jinx thing. "But when you say something like that after I’ve waited 20 years to win, well, things might not turn out so well."
I think I’m so sensitive because my dad used to call me "typhoid Mary." I would not get as sick as everyone else, so he would accuse me of being a carrier of the sickness, whatever it was. I was never too sick to sit to the right of the television set as my dad told me which channel to switch to, though. Then my germs didn’t matter, especially on a Sunday when the Giants were playing, but he wanted to see the other game, too.
Since the Yanks haven’t won a World Series since 2000, I do question myself from time to time. But the bottom line is, I’m just not that powerful. Although, I admit, I’m sometimes glad that my husband gives me that much credit.