Thursday, October 28, 2004
"It breaks your heart. It is designed to break your heart. The game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone." —A. Bartlett Giamatti
At a bar in the West Village—not that bar, but another packed with the Faithful—we stood. Everyone stood. No fear this time. And all of a sudden the ball was there. Maybe it was a roller back to the pitcher—memory blurs, sleep in short supply—and before the ball was in the first baseman's glove (again Mytzlplk!) there were hugs and tears and champagne. Then soon we were on the street, in a mass, screaming, chanting, laughing. Hundreds of us, and a few of us who'd watched all this unfold together. Champagne spraying from a window above on Seventh Avenue South.
Then later we were back at another bar, the bar where we watched game one of this set, and "Beautiful Day" came on the jukebox, and this time it was just enough Achtung and just enough Baby, and we didn't even have to watch another iPod ad to enjoy it. Later, much later, it came on again. This time, we danced.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
I woke up and said, "Red Sox playing in the World Series tonight!"
Thursday, October 21, 2004
From the email archives, a missive from a dear friend:
There are no words.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Report from one of last night's brethren: "Theo Epstein sighting - in front of me in line at Cafe Europa at 3 Times Square. Purchased what looked like a turkey sandwich."
Notes from Game 6...
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
· The Surreal Life at Fenway [Bill Simmons]
· Greatest Game Ever Played? Discuss [SoSH]
· Imagine You're Curt Schilling Right Now [Page 2]
· What a glorious vision for the Fatherland! [Soxaholix]
A 10th inning epiphany during Game 5 last night: Johnny Damon's quote about this year's Sox squad as a bunch of idiots offers a superior way not just to play but also to watch baseball. It was the kind of game where analysis fails, where talk of managerial strategy is moot, where second-guessing makes less sense than the decisions themselves. For the rest of this run, I'm turning off my brain and cuing up the El Rey. Go Sox.
UPDATE: Glad tidings for Boston fans. Just turned down tickets for tonight's game at the Stadium. Can't burden the boys again with my personal 0-5 lifetime postseason Sox record (0-2 in '86, 0-1 in '90, 0-2 in '04).
Monday, October 18, 2004
Believe. I do.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Soxaholix: "Shark with a mouthful of man … We call on Petey. He is coming like the glory of the morning on the wave."
UPDATE: Tickets for tonight have materialized. Mood: cautiously suicidal!
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Heading up to 161st Street in a few hours for Game 1 of this fall's installment of Armageddon. Seeking signs from the universe as to potential outcomes, the above photo (spotted on the Photolog of the ever-alert EShepard) is as good as a way as any to note that the future is unwritten, and perhaps a tad ambiguous. (Does it mean anything that the Sports Guy also mentions Kutcher in relation to the Sox-Yanks series? Is the universe just warming up for a fresh installment of cosmic weirdness?)
I offer this: a link to a post in this space dated February 5, 2004 that reads, "When your favorite team resigns your favorite player from when you were 12 years old... it's destiny, baby!" Let's go and make it so.
· Destiny [LS.com]