Number One Fan

Most athletes acquire some sort of fan base during their careers. Sometimes it's family and friends, sometimes it's locals or even an online stalker or two. Mom and dad sometimes call and wish you good luck before your game. A young kid might ask to take a photo with you after the game. Or a man might show up with a bottle of sangria in hand after some of your games.

All of the above happened to me. This man with the bottles of sangria happened to be a police officer who was about twenty years older than me. It didn't matter which town we were playing in, on any given night he could show up with a bottle just for me. He would specifically tell me not to share with any of my teammates on the drive back home. Of course, as soon as we started the drive, the bottle would be passed around the van. I was flattered maybe the first two times, but after that it became slightly creepy. If I knew he was at the game (he made sure to wave to let me know that he was there) I would try to find an escape out the back door to avoid him. I know, you're probably thinking, "but what about the free sangria!?" My teammates felt the same way. On more than one night they used me to get us some free booze. They would tell him that I wanted to hang out with him, but was too shy to tell him so he would just show up at our apartments with a car full of sangria. The nights typically ended with all of us being very drunk and me having to tell Pedro the police officer that I wasn't actually interested in sleeping with him that night.