and this is the reason for chickball

This weekend while I was in Houston, a bet was made in the midst of a random night with old friends and people I'd never met before. This bet was made with one of the males I'd never met before.

Situation:
I randomly insert something about the Red Sox into the conversation even though we are not talking about anything remotely related to baseball or the Red Sox. I have a tendency to do that. Random male who I met maybe three hours ago immediately jumps on the fact that I have just mentioned baseball and says something about Manny Ramirez. He includes the press favorite "Manny being Manny" phrase. I jump on this. He claims his love for baseball and the Astros. I claim my ever-loving obsession with baseball and baseball and the Red Sox. He challenges me.

At this point, my friends from high school warn random male that he should not enter into any discussion or challenge about baseball, and especially the Red Sox, with me if he values his macho sport pride. He fails to listen.

We begin talking about Fenway Park. Somehow its size comes up and I mention how many seats there are in Fenway. He claims there's no way there are more than 36 thousand seats in Fenway (2005 season was 36,298... now it's 38,805, but is usually 1500-2000 below capacity), and that there aren't more than 28 thousand. I cry foul. My friends warn him again, but he pushes the envelope and wants to bet me.

Now let me comment that I have never made a real money bet in my life. I'm just not the betting type. But here, I had something to prove. Girls can know baseball. And I knew I was right.

I made five dollars. Hotcha.