So last night, it’s Game 6 of the World Series and your favorite baseball team is in the position to win the whole shebang. You’ve got your Sox cap on, a couple cold brews, and you and your bros are packed into a Somerville bar that’s getting louder and hotter by the minute from the crush of the crowd. Over the chorus of fans utterly shocked (yet delighted) by Stephen Drew’s solo home run in the fourth inning, you turn to those bros of yours and… invite them to a Bryan Adams concert. This is a true story of listening to strangers ignore baseball during Game 6.
“You don’t know how many classic songs he’s written until you see him live,” you say, touting his stripped down 2010 album “Bare Bones,” which you recently purchased on iTunes.
Your friends respond that they haven’t had the chance to experience the majesty that is the Canadian singer’s live show. One of them keeps mistakenly calling him Ryan Adams, a far superior alt-country songwriter, but you choose to ignore this. Bryan is coming to the Wang Theater soon, you say (he’s actually coming to the nearby Shubert Theater on Dec. 6), and after a brief debate about whether the Wang is located in the Theater District (it is), a plan is hatched to grab dinner before the show in Chinatown. Then things take a most chilling turn.
“Dude, how funny would it be if we ditched our girlfriends and just all went to see Bryan Adams?” one friend asks the bro group, sounding somewhat hopeful that this half-joke actually comes to fruition.
“My girlfriend would be pissed,” you say, adding, “And dude, taking your girlfriend is the point of seeing Bryan Adams.”
The bros agree that this is a surefire way to score, with one astutely noting that “Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman?” is the gateway to sexual intercourse.
Eventually, things veer off course and you’re discussing baseball for some strange reason. Then, because the Bruins are playing on the opposite TV, hockey. One bro says hockey should be played outdoors all the time, like the Winter Classic at Fenway. That’s how they play in Canada, he says.
“Canada, that’s where Bryan Adams is from,” you quickly (and correctly) point out. “See, man, I can take anything and bring it back to Adams.”
The bros laugh. At the end of the night, one bro spurts beer on strangers, falls into a table, and the waitress kicks him out without hesitation. Somewhere in between, the Sox win the World Series for the third time in a decade, fireworks go off outside, and Bryan Adams sleeps soundly in his Canadian home.