Saturday, October 18, 2003
"Many sportswriters seem to be cynical and angry. As though spending thirty years being paid to follow games that they would watch anyway is just too much. But the older I get, and I'm still young, the more I understand.
Sports, by nature, is negative. Each year for each sport there is only one champion. That means all things considered, you have a 29 in 30 chance of being a loser. And yes, I mean you, and not just the team. Sure, you might not miss any tackles, and you might not misjudge any flyballs, but you also didn't get paid for those errors. You actually paid to see them. So, at season's end you've given time, effort, money, thought, and anything else you can to support your team. What are you left with?
Nothing.
No banners, no parades, no drunken celebrations of pure bliss. You get to watch other cities that you just know aren't as deserving bask in the glow that is winning, while you curse SportsCenter for showing it over and over again. Yet, there you are again, the very next year saying the same foolishly optimistic things you said a year before.
"I think our defense is really gonna surprise people."
"If so-and-so can make it back by the All-Star game we can make a run."
Blah, blah, blah. 29 other cities are saying the same things, and only one of you can be right.
So, when you think about it, it's easy to see why years and years of being a loser and paying to be a loser and caring about losers can get to you. Thirty years of following losers is a long time, and it breeds contempt, and it breeds cynicism, and it breeds pessimism.
But yet, we all keep doing it. We all keep rooting. And why? Because it's the losing the makes the winning worth it.
You keep getting kicked down, by bad luck, bad calls, bad trades, bad owners, bad managers, bad coaches, bad arenas, bad everything. Except for that one time when it all goes right! Everything falls into place as though Destiny herself were serving the drinks as you watched the games.
Overtime coin flips go your way. 9th inning comebacks become commonplace. And during it, all the bad from the past losing washes away like dirt from a child's hands. The money, time, effort, headaches, heartache, they all become speedbumps on the path to the parade in downtown. And when the clock hits zero, and you're the winner, and everyone else is the loser, it all makes sense. This is why I care. This is why I follow.
I hope as I get older I don't get overwhelmed by all the bad in sports. Like life, it is much easier to dwell on what is wrong, and to forget that there is far more good than bad. You just need to hold onto it, and remember that one time, you won't be the fool who's optimistic, you'll be the fan who finally was rewarded.
If I am still writing about sports in thirty years, I hope I don't forget that. And I hope that it means as much to me. Because God knows it is all worth it. It is really that good. This is why I care.
"
I wrote that on July 20th of this year.
Sports, by nature, is negative. Each year for each sport there is only one champion. That means all things considered, you have a 29 in 30 chance of being a loser. And yes, I mean you, and not just the team. Sure, you might not miss any tackles, and you might not misjudge any flyballs, but you also didn't get paid for those errors. You actually paid to see them. So, at season's end you've given time, effort, money, thought, and anything else you can to support your team. What are you left with?
Nothing.
No banners, no parades, no drunken celebrations of pure bliss. You get to watch other cities that you just know aren't as deserving bask in the glow that is winning, while you curse SportsCenter for showing it over and over again. Yet, there you are again, the very next year saying the same foolishly optimistic things you said a year before.
"I think our defense is really gonna surprise people."
"If so-and-so can make it back by the All-Star game we can make a run."
Blah, blah, blah. 29 other cities are saying the same things, and only one of you can be right.
So, when you think about it, it's easy to see why years and years of being a loser and paying to be a loser and caring about losers can get to you. Thirty years of following losers is a long time, and it breeds contempt, and it breeds cynicism, and it breeds pessimism.
But yet, we all keep doing it. We all keep rooting. And why? Because it's the losing the makes the winning worth it.
You keep getting kicked down, by bad luck, bad calls, bad trades, bad owners, bad managers, bad coaches, bad arenas, bad everything. Except for that one time when it all goes right! Everything falls into place as though Destiny herself were serving the drinks as you watched the games.
Overtime coin flips go your way. 9th inning comebacks become commonplace. And during it, all the bad from the past losing washes away like dirt from a child's hands. The money, time, effort, headaches, heartache, they all become speedbumps on the path to the parade in downtown. And when the clock hits zero, and you're the winner, and everyone else is the loser, it all makes sense. This is why I care. This is why I follow.
I hope as I get older I don't get overwhelmed by all the bad in sports. Like life, it is much easier to dwell on what is wrong, and to forget that there is far more good than bad. You just need to hold onto it, and remember that one time, you won't be the fool who's optimistic, you'll be the fan who finally was rewarded.
If I am still writing about sports in thirty years, I hope I don't forget that. And I hope that it means as much to me. Because God knows it is all worth it. It is really that good. This is why I care.
"
I wrote that on July 20th of this year.
Friday, October 17, 2003
The city is sad and its people weep. Cars drive slower, with nowhere to go, running from what they cannot escape, hiding from what has already passed. Up and down the sidewalks, people walk without aim and without focus. No one speaks, for no one knows what to say. The stars do not fall out of the sky, but fall out of sight. Heads hang, shoulders fall, and the mighty are broken. The weight of a nation, of a lifetime, of a history become too much to bare. The city buckles and the city breaks and the city weeps. Its people are sad.
Saturday, October 11, 2003
"I Love You Guys"
End of Game Update
That was the least enjoyable baseball game of my life. I am literally angry at what I just watched.
Ugh. Miserable, just miserable.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Update after 6 Innings
Feels like I wrote the initial part of this entry in a different life. Back when I thought Pedro would reach into his bag of tricks and pull out one last bit of magic. This has been one of the least enjoyable games of my life. A thoroughly awful 6 innings of baseball in every sense.
Oh, and Tim McCarver is still a dope.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Update after 4 Innings
Ugh. Tim McCarver is a dope. This stinks in the worst possible way.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene in Hoosiers right before the championship game is one of my all time favorite movie scenes. When the Preacher reads the quote from the Bible about David slaying Goliath and the team going around saying why they want to win the game.
That's what I keep thinking about minutes before the first pitch of Game 3 today. Now of course, the outcome of this game won't decide who wins this series or even the world series, but it has that special, transcendent, must win feel.
Not just because it will put us up 2 games to 1, but because it will be a vindication of sorts. Roger Clemens isn't just wholly evil, he represents all that is bad in Boston sports. With his soured past and his pinstripe-wearing present, Roger Clemens is everything I hate as a Red Sox and Boston fan, and everything I hate as a sports fan.
Pedro Martinez is no longer Pedro Martinez. He is a shadow of his formerself. Fortunately, he was so good that his shadow is still better than anyone else in the game. Today I get the feeling that Pedro puts on his Jimmy Chitwood jersey and tells Grady "I'll make it."
Like I said, the whole world is not resting on this game, it just feels like it.
Go Sox.
End of Game Update
That was the least enjoyable baseball game of my life. I am literally angry at what I just watched.
Ugh. Miserable, just miserable.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Update after 6 Innings
Feels like I wrote the initial part of this entry in a different life. Back when I thought Pedro would reach into his bag of tricks and pull out one last bit of magic. This has been one of the least enjoyable games of my life. A thoroughly awful 6 innings of baseball in every sense.
Oh, and Tim McCarver is still a dope.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Update after 4 Innings
Ugh. Tim McCarver is a dope. This stinks in the worst possible way.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The scene in Hoosiers right before the championship game is one of my all time favorite movie scenes. When the Preacher reads the quote from the Bible about David slaying Goliath and the team going around saying why they want to win the game.
That's what I keep thinking about minutes before the first pitch of Game 3 today. Now of course, the outcome of this game won't decide who wins this series or even the world series, but it has that special, transcendent, must win feel.
Not just because it will put us up 2 games to 1, but because it will be a vindication of sorts. Roger Clemens isn't just wholly evil, he represents all that is bad in Boston sports. With his soured past and his pinstripe-wearing present, Roger Clemens is everything I hate as a Red Sox and Boston fan, and everything I hate as a sports fan.
Pedro Martinez is no longer Pedro Martinez. He is a shadow of his formerself. Fortunately, he was so good that his shadow is still better than anyone else in the game. Today I get the feeling that Pedro puts on his Jimmy Chitwood jersey and tells Grady "I'll make it."
Like I said, the whole world is not resting on this game, it just feels like it.
Go Sox.
Saturday, October 04, 2003
Judgement Day
And so it all comes down to this. A Derek Lowe start and a lot of praying.
Seems fitting. And it seems terribly unfair.
The Boston Red Sox are unequivocally the most exciting team in baseball and the most infuriating. How often do you have an historically great offense and an historically bad bullpen on the same squad? It almost seems inconceivable. But that is your 2003 Boston Red Sox in a nutshell, the same team that now finds itself down 2 games to none against the Oakland MoneyBallers.
The "side" stories are endless. Beane scorns the Sox, Epstein steps in. Grady or Macha could have been the manager. Pitching versus hitting. Blah blah blah. The fact is, no one really cares what goes on outside of the white lines. And come tonight, no one will care about anything other than the two numbers under the "R" in left field.
Because tonight, the Boston Red Sox will either be preparing for Game 4 tomorrow or packing up their stuff for Fort Myers in February. Tomorrow the Globe will either be running stories about John Burkett preparing for the biggest game of his life, or Dan Shaughnessy columns about some ludicrous curse that no one reads.
The most likable Red Sox team in a long time will either break our hearts tonight or give us hope. Hope that if we can just get through one weekend of home games that we fly cross country with the greatest pitcher on the planet ready to go.
All I know is, I'm not ready to give up. I'm gonna cowboy up, along with the rest of New England and watch Derek Lowe answer our prayers and keep this season alive and kicking.
Because honestly, who wants to see Shaughnessy write another end of season column?
And so it all comes down to this. A Derek Lowe start and a lot of praying.
Seems fitting. And it seems terribly unfair.
The Boston Red Sox are unequivocally the most exciting team in baseball and the most infuriating. How often do you have an historically great offense and an historically bad bullpen on the same squad? It almost seems inconceivable. But that is your 2003 Boston Red Sox in a nutshell, the same team that now finds itself down 2 games to none against the Oakland MoneyBallers.
The "side" stories are endless. Beane scorns the Sox, Epstein steps in. Grady or Macha could have been the manager. Pitching versus hitting. Blah blah blah. The fact is, no one really cares what goes on outside of the white lines. And come tonight, no one will care about anything other than the two numbers under the "R" in left field.
Because tonight, the Boston Red Sox will either be preparing for Game 4 tomorrow or packing up their stuff for Fort Myers in February. Tomorrow the Globe will either be running stories about John Burkett preparing for the biggest game of his life, or Dan Shaughnessy columns about some ludicrous curse that no one reads.
The most likable Red Sox team in a long time will either break our hearts tonight or give us hope. Hope that if we can just get through one weekend of home games that we fly cross country with the greatest pitcher on the planet ready to go.
All I know is, I'm not ready to give up. I'm gonna cowboy up, along with the rest of New England and watch Derek Lowe answer our prayers and keep this season alive and kicking.
Because honestly, who wants to see Shaughnessy write another end of season column?
Thursday, October 02, 2003
No Title Can Do My Anger Justice
It's 2:50 am.
There is so much I can say.
So many things to be upset about.
I don't want to talk about any of them.
I am literally sick to my stomach right now.
This sucks.
The ONLY good part is we don't have anytime to dwell on it.
I feel like I was kicked in the face.
It's 2:50 am.
There is so much I can say.
So many things to be upset about.
I don't want to talk about any of them.
I am literally sick to my stomach right now.
This sucks.
The ONLY good part is we don't have anytime to dwell on it.
I feel like I was kicked in the face.
