Then, the following Thursday, he had an argument with a Fenway cop, who was offended by Millette’s mimed Pedroia act. (Millette puts his feet inside a box, making him look like a very short person.) Moments later, claims Millette, the Rolling Green Monster was towed, leaving him not only vehicle-less but also homeless. Upon retrieving it, he receives more tickets — only these are not for entrance to Fenway, but rather are from the City of Boston meter maids, for being parked within 20 feet of an intersection and for failing his emissions inspection. He spends the next few days sleeping on the ground in parking garages, and waiting for a garage in Brighton to fix his emergency brake and horn, among other things, so that he can once again present the Monster for inspection.
Millette once compared his relationship with the Sox to an episode of the Twilight Zone, in which a journalist is able to effectuate future events, simply by writing what he wants to happen. He links the two situations — his real-life obsession with the Red Sox and a cult-favorite, science-fiction television show — with an idiosyncratic, it’s-crazy-but-I-believe-it perspective: his actions can effect the team’s success. That brand of superstition is not all that uncommon among Sox fans, or sports fans in general, for that matter. When asked directly if he thinks he brings luck to the Red Sox, though, he says no: “They bring luck to me.”
Caitlin E. Curran can be reached atccurran@phx.com.
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