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It is the end of the workday, but not the end of my week. I would love to be able to sleep in tomorrow, maybe fix a breakfast of pancakes and bacon, and go wherever thewind will take me.
But, sadly, so. I’ll be up way-too-early when the majority of the world is enjoying a relaxing start to the weekend.
This will be one of those posts that has something for everyone. Maybe not everyone. How about 4 out of five dentists? Choosy mothers? The Pepsi generation?
Alright, enough.
Tonight is the last home game for the Red Riots football team. So far, they are 4-2 with tonight’s game vs. Gorham, then The Battle of the Bridge. I found out yesterday that My Son sustained a concussion during practice. He failed the computer tests that are conducted with potential cranial injury but was told he could be back for the last game of the regular season. I understand that football is not a gentile sport, that injuries happen. But how does a kid sustain multiple blows to the head..IN PRACTICE. I understand he’s disappointed he may not be able to play for awhile.
My Daughter and I had a great dinner last night. Since we have a similar sense of humor, we can get silly and that’s how it was last night. The spaghetti stayed on the plates and there are no stains in the rug or on the couch cushions. I cherish times like this when I can be Dad instead of her Father.
A good friend tipped me off to an interesting concept. It’s called Meet Up (www.meetup.com ) and there are all kinds of groups where people can socialize. If you are into cooking, coffee, wine, adventure activities or just want to meet people, there are groups for all that and more. I found a writers group that I wanted to join. But I was detained while picking up My Son from his team dinner last night, so I missed the beginning. Actually, I missed the whole thing. I went to the address provided on the website, but when I rang the doorbell, no one responded. Bummer. I’ll have to arrive earlier next week.
One of the things I will need to change, whenever I start dating again, will be to forget what I knew with My Love. I have to re-learn how to date. Not so much the flowers/dinner or a movie/kiss at the door stuff. Instead I need to change how I think about the structure of the relationship. I will want to date someone who isn’t balancing another relationship against ours, but I want to be able to focus on the present. I want to take it step-by-step, savouring getting to know her. I want to be secure with myself and my life so I’m not so quick for exclusivity. I don’t want to define myself by the relationship. I am a LONG way off from dating again, despite desiring the intimacy of a relationship.
I am loving internet radio. I’ve logged into Free Form BCN several times this week while at work. I love the idea of not know what song you’ll hear next. Having worked in radio, I know what good radio sounds like and I haven’t heard it for awhile. It’s where the DJ’s had personality; they identified with their audience, could program their shows and select the music. It’s easy now to tune up and down the dial and hear the same presentation, just different music. They tell you the same thing no matter the format. Every station is ”playing a better mix of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s”, “more variety, less talk”…..you get the idea. Now that I’ve discovered internet radio and can pinpoint music that matters to me, the only use for the radio will be news/weather and the ballgame. That’s actually kinda sad.
I will not be dressing up for Halloween. I’ve never been big on the holiday. maybe it was the pressure of finding an original costume. My best costume was a Christoper Columbus outfit, complete with crushed velvet cap and ragmop hair. My mother made it from scratch. You don’t get much of that anymore. As I grew older, it was just a day when you got lots of free candy. A few years I had to “Trick or Treat for UNICEF”. Usually we got the boxes in our Sunday school classes and were expected to return them on the Sunday following Halloween. That activity reminds me of the scene in Woody Allen’s “Radio Days”, an autobiographical film about growing up during World War II. The scene takes place during Hebrew school class. These Jewish boys are sent out by their rabbi, to collect funds to promote a Jewish home in Palestine. Being kids, they end up taking some of the money and spending a portion on candy, ice cream or Secret Avenger Decoder Rings. The young Woody gets hauled up in front of the rabbi by his parents. Do you remember collecting for UNICEF? How many of you skimmed a little off the top? Did some of it end up in the till of the neighborhoodstore? Do I see a few hands rising hesitantly? C’mon, ‘fess up. But don’t worry because it’s ancient history, you won’t be held accountable.
It’s too damn cold for this time of year. Where’s Indian Summer? Where are the temperatures in the mid-50’s?
Enjoy your weekend no matter where you are. Hopefully, there will be lots of color, interesting people, and stuff to make you go “hmmmmm”.
Wanderlust is a wonderful thing. It usually creeps up on me every 3-4 weeks, giving me another opportunity to dream. It’s another possibility presented to me by Life. I can tell when wanderlust is coming on. I begin to think about places I’ve been or where I want to go. It used to be I would get it to avoid a painful situation. Now I use it for motivation.
I got the travel bug bad during my senior year in high school. Before then, I had been to Boston and New York City with school or church groups, and it was enough to give me a taste of what was outside my world. I grew up in small towns and cities in New England. There were people areund me who had never been more than 50 miles away from home.
Despite what John Mellencamp says, there is more to offer outside a small town. However, it’s easy to appreciate what a small town offers, but you have to leave it before you understand. If never given an opportunity to see what the world has to offer, one could be satisfied to remain where they are.
During my senior year, I participated in an exchange with an all-girl German gymnasium (high school) for one month. In the span of one month, I was exposed to a new language, customs, attitudes, opinions about my own country, and had an opportunity to visit The Netherlands. Granted, it was from a Northern European perspective but I never would have known it if it wasn’t for that exchange. It gave me the sense that there were more opportunities waiting for me. At one time I had a dream to backpack around Europe. I almost put that into play when I flunked out of college.
The first time.
Since then, I have visited: Paris, London (twice), rode a National Express coach from London to Dundee, St. Andrews (twice, once to play golf with my friend Adam, the other to attend the 2005 Open Championship), Germany, Las Vegas (I went with My Love to celebrate her 50th birthday), Miami, Aruba, Dallas, Washington DC and Phoenix (jumping off point to the Grand Canyon).
The wanderlust I’m experiencing at the moment has alot to do with wanting to move my life in a different direction. I have been taking small steps towards that and I’m exploring ways to do that. I started with my weekly movie blitzes at the library. I then moved towards taking my relationship with my children to the next level. I am happy to say that I am communicating with them much more openly, and they are doing the same with me. I am volunteering with the football boosters of my son’s team. I have been helping out with bingo.
The next challenge is to continue to do all this and not do things alone. I am resolved that this process is slow moving. I am not actively looking to date anyone. I am not holding out for My Love, though. I know she reads these posts and that’s much safer for us both. It eliminates the emotional piece. She reads about my stuff without having to contact me. I can let her know how my life is progressing. I can also let her know that I miss her without getting verklempt.
I am not so sure I want to date for different reasons. Actually, I am not ready to date. As much as I want the gentle touch of someone’s hand, a passionate kiss and to share my bed with a woman I deeply care for, I don’t want it be be for all the wrong reasons. I am not ready to fall in love again. I want to be with a woman to satisfy my own urges and desires, and that is a temporary experience. I am not ready to open my heart and be vulnerable. The pain in my life is still fresh and to throw romance into the mix would only turn out badly. If I am going to give my heart to someone, I need to prepare myself.
What I want is a f@#k buddy. But I couln’t handle that either because I find it difficult to separate love and sex when I’m not in a caring relationship. I’m just not cut out for sex for sex sake. There has to be an emotional bond.
Here we are, gentle reader. All dressed up and no place to go.
Actually, I have somewhere to go tonight. It’s the home opener for the football team and my son is playing. I am so happy he’s playing football again. He enjoys the game . My son is just dressing for the game. The JV game is on Monday afternoons. It’s a great way to spend a day off. But I’ll go to the game tonight to have something to do.
Maybe I’ll win the 50-50.
I love playing golf. More than that, I love playing golf well, which doesn’t happen often enough. Last night, the planets were aligned and the stars predicted great things, because I shot a 43.
Yeah, what’s the big deal?
If I played more often, that would be a regular score, maybe lower. But since I only play once a week, that’s pretty good. You also need to consider that usually I shoot about 7 strokes higher.
Wednesday nights are my league night. It’s just a bunch of regular guys, playing on a challenging, but not well-kept, golf course. One of the guys in the storeroom recruited me to play four years ago. I took last summer off, but I wanted to play this year to help me get back in touch with the game. I had made it a priority a long time ago, put in on the backburner for the kids. I hardly played at all.
Now that my son wants to play the game, I’ve been spending more time playing. It’s nice to see him interested in the game. We get to spend some good time together, getting a little exercise and riding that emotional roller coaster that is golf.
By the way, did I mention this was my lowest score in 2 years, and lowest ever in league play?
Theo finally pulled the plug. The Red Sox decided to cut their losses and release John Smoltz.
I want to set the record straight. I am not down on John Smoltz. He was one the best pitchers in the 90’s and will go to Cooperstown. What I was not down on was the decision by the Red Sox. With good young arms ready for The Show, the Red Sox decide to throw caution (and lots of cash) to the wind and sign Smoltz, even after off-season surgery. It was a gamble for sure. I guess Theo figured that $5 million for salary and whatever the costs for rehab, etc. were worth it.
Red Sox fans will disagree. Loudly.
Of course, Smoltz has to clear waivers or reassignment. But, he’s toast no matter what.
I have remained silent about the Red Sox this season, partly because I like to watch but don’t have cable. I’ll check the box scores in the paper, maybe read a little online. How about radio, you ask? As much as I enjoy listening to a ballgame on radio, it’s not at the front of my mind. But mostly I haven’t felt compelled to pay attention. I miss watching the games. I can’t go to Fenway Park because the scalpers and brokers have priced me and the kids out of a chance to go to a ballgame, and that pisses me off to no end.
You might say that I am a casualty of the 21st century. Raised on radio, seduced by TV, abandoned by cable.
Another reason why I have held back judgement on Ye Olde Towne Team is because of hope. Every Red Sox fan has hope. Since 2004, hope has been redefined. You might call it BWS and AWS..Before World Series and After World Series. With BWS, through the 70’s, 80’s, 90’s and early part of this century, Red Sox fans wore their disappointment like a badge of honor. We lived and died with our team. We loved them when they were winning, but hoping the failures weren’t too devistating. Our heroes both deserved praise and incurred our wrath. I could cite numerous examples, but we’d be here all day.
Ever since the Sox won the ‘04 and ‘07 World Series’, Red Sox Nation has taken on a different hue. Firstly, Red Sox Nation is a marketing ploy. You can be a card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation, but you have to pay for the privilege. And, no, not with blood,sweat and tears, and year in and out of watching good and great teams get so close, but not close enough. No, membership is hard cash. But this incarnation of Red Sox Nation is sorely lacking. The newbies didn’t earn their stripes. The Impossible Dream is only to be read about online. They didn’t endure the Collapse of ‘78 and Bucky Freakin’ Dent. They didn’t have their hopes raised high to heaven by Carlton Fisk in Game 6 in The Greastest World Series Game Ever, only to have those hopes dashed in Game 7. Maybe they remember Bill Buckner and Calvin Scharaldi in ‘86. Maybe they remember staying up to watch a few innings before shuffling off to bed. Buckner has been pardoned. We made sure of that after ‘04. But Scharaldi hasn’t even stood trial for crimes against humanity in Game 6 of that series. And Bob Stanley has gotten off light, even though HE gave up the hit to Mookie Wilson.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. We were talking about hope.
We all had hope at the beginning of the season. That’s one thing that’s great about baseball. There IS always next year. The start of a new season brings new hope. I felt that way about this season. This year it seemed that all the pieces came together. Good pitching, good hitting, solid bench and the bullpen was lights out. But, like everything in baseball, nothing is guaranteed.
The injuries to, among others, Tim Wakefield and Mike Lowell, have been ill timed. But, there really is no good time for an injury. At the moment, we can’t seem to hit our way out of a paper sack. New faces have been taking the place of old reliables and the chemistry has been disrupted, temorarily.
Two issues that are gnawing at me currently. They are the combined ineptitude of John Smoltz and Brad Penny. I’m not going to dig deep for stats. I don’t watch the game for stats. I do have an expectation that the standards of excellence be met, and those two need to be shown the door. Neither seem to be able to pitch past the 5th inning. Neither of them have commanding stuff, so hitters are just sitting back and waiting, and the results have been awful. Every member of Red Sox Nation wants to ask Sox GM Theo Epstein, “Why?” Why did you sign them? Was our pitching in that bad shape to sign those weary arms? Granted, Smoltz is coming off arm surgery, but now we know why the Braves didn’t think twice about not signing him. He’s got over 20 seasons under his belt. Did the Red Sox think that he’d go Roy Hobbs, complete with a gaping bullet wound, carry the team on his back into the playoffs? He may know HOW to throw the pitch, but he can’t pitch the way he did in the 90’s. Go quietly now and we’ll see you in Cooperstown in 2014.
Penny….okay, ‘06 Marlins won the World Series. But he’s no Josh Beckett. Sorry, you just don’t have it anymore.
SO…….where does that leave the Sox? Justin Masterson has been banished to the Indians. Daniel Bard pitches long relief, Michael Bowden and Clay Bucholtz deserve to be in Boston, but those two pantloads Penny and Smoltz are holding them back. Bring the new guys in. They have paid their dues. They have the stuff.
Baseball is a wonderful thing. Some don’t get it. The Woman Who Broke My Heart thought it was too slow. But it’s a game that slowly evolves over the course of nine innings. It demands your attention during those slow moments between pitches. If you always watch the ball, you miss bits and pieces of the action. I constantly have my head moving when the ball is in play. I don’t want to miss anything. I drink it all in like cool water.
But you have to wonder about the latest generation of Red Sox fans. They are a different breed. They are brought up on mechandising. Gotta have the Red Sox replica shirts. The girls have to wear the pink caps. It’s posing. For many of them, it’s like going to a frat party. It’s the hottest ticket in town and they got in. Do they really care about the game? Or are they more concerned with the good seats and better beer? Have Red Sox fans become like Yankee fams?
No, this generation of Sox fans, singing “Sweet Caroline” in the late innings, and believing that we’re entitled to win every World Series, are almost as bad as Yankee fans. Save the “Yankees Suck” hubris for after the game, after you’ve pounded down a river of Sam Adams. Ask them about the Spaceman and they’ll ask if its a PS3 game. They’re the ones who wear their replica Sox jerseys with 24 on the back, swearing that the best player to wear that number was Manny. Hello? Remember Dwight Evans? Not even Ricky Henderson would run on that arm.
That sense of entitlement can lead the most sane individual down a most precarious path. Your enthusiasm can be interpreted as arrogant, obnoxious, and off-putting. Start talking smack like that and you can only get into trouble.
As much as I think this season can be saved, I also believe we are walkinga thin line. The line between glory and heartbreak. Does the new breed of Sox fans have the stuff to weather this? Will Big Papi lose face and respect? Will Dice-K pull it all together, listen to the coaches, and be the brilliant star most fans want him to be?
We’ll just have to wait and see.
It’s one of my favorite times of the year. I have a handful. It starts in April, with the playing of The Masters. Then the US Open on Father’s Day weekend. Finally, my absolute favorite: the Open Championship. Here in the colonies, it’s the British Open, but I prefer to call it by its proper name.
I was there for the Open in ‘05, played at St. Andrews. My friend Adam lives in St. Andrews, and I was able to stay with him. I LOVE Scotland. It’s a place where I found myself feeling so at home, feeling that I was meant to be in that place.
This year, the Open is being played at Turnberry, Ayrshire, on Scotland’s west coast. Happy to see 5-time Open champion Tom Watson open with a 65. Let’s see if he can match that today.
One of the more exasporating affects of all this rain is my Wednesday night golf league matches are canceled. That has been the case for the past four weeks. Some people get cranky if they don’t have their morning coffee, some folks are unbearable without their daily chocolate fix. Me, it’s golf. Even though I don’t play the latest and greatest in equipment, I do not have a membership to a club, public or private, and I don’t take the annual golf trip to Myrtle Beach or Florida, I get a great deal of pleasure in just hitting shots and not keeping score. One of my favorite things is to go out after dusk and play a few hole by myself. Sometimes this entails sneaking onto the course after the pro shop closes, which adds to the sense of satisfaction. Forget the steroetypes, golf is a fun game to play. My late grandfather got me started with a cut-down wodden shafted putter. I’d use his electric putting game for hours. I used to sit with him while he watched tournaments on TV. His advice on good tempo, “slow down, you swing that club like a baseball bat.” On days I play alone, I often think of him and wish we could have played a few rounds together before he died. I imagine he would be pleased that I have passed the game on to my son.
I believe in value, and I my optiions for affordable golf are limited. After expenses, I barely have enough for nine holes. I can play the municipal course in the town where my kids live. I actually like playing there. The course is the former sight of a private club, which relocated after their clubhouse burned down back in the 1910’s. It’s a nine-holer and very quirky. The layout for some of the holes looks straight-forward, but there are some hidded surprises. The greens are small, which means there isn’t much room to play your approaches. You need some creativity and the gift of abstract thought, because you may have to make up shots as you go. The best part is the parks and rec department maintains the course, so it’s in great shape. Except the bunkers, which have small rocks in the sand that ding up your clubface. The place is a cash cow because all the bluehairs play there for its cheap greens fees. There are no memberships, so you can play as many holes as you want for $13. The most I’ve played is 27, but I could easily squeeze in another nine.
On the other side of the coin, there’s the course where my league plays. Again, it’s a nine-holer but it has seen better days. It has poor drainage so any puddles can, potentially, still be found several days after a shower. The greens also hold excess water, so they can be slow. But the layout is alright. Some holes aren’t particularly challenging , but there’s lots of room if your shots go offline. When I play here, I pay the league price, which is also $13. I’ll take my son here because he’s starting to take the game seriously and he doesn’t get too discouraged when his shots fall short or offline.
The night now is ripe with possibilities and endless options. Maybe I’ll make a stir fry tonight (yes, I can cook and quite well). Maybe I’ll go to the movies tonight. I want to see Public Enemy with Johnny Depp. My daughter LOVES Johnny Depp, as did my ex-girlfriend. I think he’s an exceptional actor. I hope everyone has a pleasant and dry evening.
If a Red Sox fan needs a reason to rejoice, it would be any time the Yankees take the gas pipe and cough up a loss. First, let me say this: I do not hate the Yankees. My Dad is a Yankee fan. He grew up in northern Maine during the golden era of Yankee teams. He was drawn to DiMaggio, Berra, Mantle, Ford and the other great teams of the 40s and 50s. But I was fan of the Red Sox after the Impossible Dream team of 1967. I was not aware of that team during that time, but learned about that team, and baseball history as I was drawn deeper into baseball. I always respected the Yankees but experienced the angst that all Red Sox fans experience when the Yankees always seem to get the breaks, and the Red Sox had all the bad luck. So seeing the Yankees post season misfortunes of the past 7 years have given me hope that the tide is turning, especially after the World Series win in ‘04. So when I saw the Yankee score from last night, a 2-1 loss to Cleveland in 13 innings, it made the Red Sox win over the Angels all the more sweeter. The problem I have with Yankee fans is that there is the notion that the Yankees are entitled and should win it all every year. Even if you have the most successful of franchises, there has to by a natural cycle of things. There has to be a period of frustration and failure, even with a successful sports franchise. There is a difference between pride and entitlement. The Yankees are old; their starting pitching is ancient, their starting lineup has a few young bucks, but their rely on established but fading stars for their offense. They have a few young, rising stars that will make them a better team. Right now, though, they can only get by on experience. I will look forward to the next couple of days. I am hoping that the Red Sox win their next game in California, and that the Yankees lose their third at Yankee Stadium. That would be so sweet to see the Yankees lose at home, to deny them another chance at a World Series win.
Growing up in New England and reading the Boston newspapers gave a unique insight into the sports psyche of the region. Although we have a successful franchise, won a World Series (and loaded to win many others) and have a level of baseball that is lacking in many parts of the country, the paranoid vision of a typical Red Sox fan is amazing. I would expect to hear gloom and doom from the fans 20 years ago, but NOW? Come on, folks. Do you really think the Yankees, as depleted as their talent pool may be, are going to lay down and go away? Yes, their pitching sucks, but their bats are not going away quietly. Alex Rodriguez, despite of steroid rumors (my son calls him Roid-riguez), is having a career year, fueled by the prospect that he can opt out of the final year of his contract and find bigger money elsewhere. This is a prime example of the problems of free agency and sports, in general. His agent, Scott Boras ( or Bored Rat, it depends on your perspective), was smart enough to get this guy a contract with Texas for $250 million or more. Actually, Tom HIcks, the owner of the Rangers, was stupid enough to take the bait. The Rangers never made it past fourth in their division, despite stellar numbers from A-Rod. But, I digress.
Red Sox Nation: Keep your heads on straight. This team is fine. I hope that Matsusaka can dig down inside and find that extra something when he walks the bases loaded. All he need is some incentive, like a big game with playoff implications or a Yankee series. Sign Mike Lowell for another two years. After an early season error flurry, he has been a rock at third. Kevin Youkilis plays and hits with passion: he is the new king of the Dirt Dogs. Thank God Julio Lugo broke out of his slump. It is a pleasure to watch him hit again. I could go on about the pitching staff, but I won’t. But Red Sox Nation, remember this: this is not your father’s Red Sox team or ownership. These guys won’t screw it up like Haywood Sullivan or Lou Gorman. The farm is LOADED with talent, and once Manny Ramirez’s contract is up, he won’t be resigned. I am tired of “Manny being Manny”. Old school RedSox fans would have booed him for packing it in last September. They would not have put up with the crap. When he hits, the fans love him and they forget that he dogs it in the outfield. He could hustle for balls a little harder. Yes, he has become very good at playing balls off the Green Monster, and his flip throws to the infield are accurate, but he could play his position with more intelligence. Have I given you enough?
In a nutshell, avoid the 12-inning marathons with Tampa Bay. You will see more of them in the next two months, so get ready to pound that pathetic pitching staff. Get off J.D. Drew’s back and just let the guy play. Trade Willie Mo Pena…please. And when you play the Yankees, just follow these guidlines and the lead will double: Let the old-school rage out and beat them like a rented mule. Pray you get Mike Mussina more than once, just to see him melt down. Send Roger Clemens packing early and often. And hope that Torre has no other option than go deep into his bullpen. Poor Joe, he probably wishes Rudy Giuliani was still mayor, and Brian Cashman wasn’t a twit.
Gee, Curt Schilling goes out with a bum shoulder, and the boo birds come out. I do find it interesting that he’s been put on an unofficial gag order. He initially comes out in public, disagreeing with managment’s decision to shelf him. All of a sudden, he clams up. He did the same thing when he went before the Congressional committee to testify on steroid use. Lots of talk before hand, but when he was under oath, nothing. All of this bellyaching does him no good when trying to renegotiate his contract. Personally, the Red Sox have too much on the farm to even consider resigning Schilling. I don’t belief he was on steroids, but his opinions were all fluff and no substance.
