To Streak or Not to Streak

Is there something rewarding about getting spear-tackled by a 260 lb. Boston cop? How satisfying is it to have your favorite athletes witness your bits and pieces flailing in the wind? And the phone call from Grandma, who saw your bare ass on NESN? That must be exhilarating.

Call me crazy, but streaking doesn't make sense to me. However, for a whole lot of people, streaking not only makes sense, but is the crowning moment of their lives.

I've never had the desire to get naked at a sporting event. The decision-making process to streak has never even crossed my mind.

Until now.

Given the countless stupid things I've done drunk over the years, taking my clothes off in front of thousands of people and spending the night in jail has never appealed to me. But to be fair, I must look at the other side of the story.

It's time, my friends, to look at the genesis of the streak:

I don't think anyone goes to a sporting event with the intention of getting arrested with no clothes on. It's a long process that begins early in the night, with that first sip of beer.

We can all usually tell when a night is going to be a little crazier than usual. Call it gut instinct. Call it a feeling in the air. Or call it intoxication. Whatever you call it, there is no doubt that alcohol is, by far, the biggest influence of the streak.

Anyone who can attest to streaking while completely sober at a sporting event, God bless you. You have guts. But seriously, what's wrong with you? Freak.

After a few beers, the next step towards the streak comes from another outside source: your friends. And I'll bet almost 99% of streaking cases start something like this: (We'll name our streaker Joe)

All Joe's friends are just as drunk as he is. It's only the 5th inning. The game isn't interesting to Joe and his friends anymore. All attention is on the drunken banter between Joe and his buddies.

Joe doesn't even realize Manny just hit a three-run homer to give the Sox the lead. He was too busy taunting the peanut guy, telling him he throws like a girl. His friends are eating it up. Tonight, Joe is the funniest man at Fenway.

One of the buddies buys Joe two beers. His drunken comic genius is being met with double-fisted glory. But the inebriation is about to take a turn from innocent to illegal.

There's that one moment of silence between innings. Everyone's mind is wondering. What would be the most hilarious thing that could happen right now? And then the question is posed.

"Hey Joe, you won't..........nevermind..."

"What?"

"Forget it, you won't do it"

"Do what?! Dude, tell me! I'll do it!"

Everyone's attention is on the challenge that is about to be set forth. Joe thinks he's about to be asked to hit on an old woman or something along those lines. He has no clue.

As soon as the word "streak" is uttered, Joe sobers up for a brief moment.

"No way. Not a chance! I'm not getting arrested. That's just stupid!"

The topic goes away for a little bit. But the drinking continues. And within a half hour, the pressure begins to build again as Joe's buddies start to really work on him. A couple of sure-bet lines that are spoken:

"You would forever be 'the man' in my book if you do this"

"I would tell everyone I ever met this story about my crazy friend named Joe"

"You'll never have to buy a drink at a bar again"

And then the surrounding crowd in Joe's sections gets involved. Other drunken idiots get word of a possible streaker and they start to chime in. All of a sudden, Joe is put in the undesirable position of being a "pussy" if he doesn't disrobe and interrupt a live television broadcast.

A really attractive woman in the section gives her support to "the streak". She gives Joe the look. The look that says "I'll sleep with you if you do this". Even though she clearly has a huge, body-builder of a boyfriend by her side, and he'll NEVER, EVER see her again after this game, Joe soaks in that look. It’s the icing on the cake.

Joe’s own mind is the next, and last, crucial step in the origin of the streak.

Joe’s beer-soaked mind starts working against him, convincing him that what everyone else is telling him will be a guaranteed result of running onto the field makes perfect sense. He’ll never pay for a drink again. He will sleep with any hot chick he wants. And he will forever be viewed as the most courageous man to walk this planet.

When no one expects it, in the middle an at-bat, Joe takes his shirt off.

His friends freeze. Shit. He’s actually doing it. They immediately regret bringing it up. The crowd erupts. They love it. Because they don’t know Joe. They don’t have to bail him out of jail and explain this to his girlfriend later.

Then, the on-field chaos occurs. Remy and Orsillo get a good laugh. The crowd stirs. The game is delayed three minutes, but life goes on. The batter gets back up. A pitch is thrown. The crowd is back into the game. But Joe is on his way to jail. And he’s got no clothes on.

But Joe’s got a story. Not only did he walk on the grass at Fenway- He fucking ran on it. And people where cheering for him.

And, the truth is, I never will captivate an audience at Fenway Park. But Joe did.