Trying to read the sports page this morning I had to stop myself. I don’t want to remember the awfulness of last night. The way Schilling seemed to play in slow motion, well except for his unreal bare hand catch. The way JD Drew did nothing to suppress the Nancy taunting in the crowds. And the last homeruns. Declarmen has always made me nervous. But Okajima? My first time seeing him pitch after hearing a year of hype. I know, it’s hard for these Japanese guys because of the long season, but when I’m at Fenway Park do I really care?
Nick Hornby says watching sports as a fan isn’t entertainment. He’s dead on. I was horrified, I was ecstatic (Variteks homer which I asked for as he came to the plate), I felt my arrhythmia acting up, there is really just no time for entertainment,
All the people around us in the stands left between the seventh and eighth inning. Even the two guys behind me who were constantly getting into huge fights about obscure stats left at the beginning of the ninth.
I looked at my father who looked cold, worn out, slightly heart broken, and informed him if there was extra innings I was staying for all of them.
I gulped my Smithwicks and silently said every prayer I could remember. It would all be ok, our best hitters were up. Even without Manny we could do this.
Ellsbury flies out. Ortiz grounds out. Lowell fouls out. My heart out.
“It’s just a game my father,” my father said.
But I kept seeing millions of other defeats flashing before me.
All right Red Sox, let’s really start playing. And Manny, please come back. Make me happy Ireland wouldn’t extend my visa. Make me proud to be American. For fecks sake, I even sang the anthem last night.
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