BOSOXBLOG

On Friday I had a job interview. The woman couldn’t download my resume so on the way over I printed out a few copies at Kinko’s. I’ve looked over my resume so much lately I practically have it memorized.

I handed her a copy confident.  An internship for essentially nothing in a school.  I have an MA, I had this.  Small pay for lots of work, it was in the bag.  This is how Pierce feels shooting foul shots. This is how we used to feel watching the Celtics.

“You do realize you have misspelled writing on this?”

I had spelled it writging.  On my resume it said I have an MA in Writging with honors.

“So tell me more about this writing scholarship you received in undergrad?” she said in some disbelief

My face was tomato red. I’ve studied writing for years. I call myself a writer.  And there it was misspelled. A sheet of paper representing all my worth, and I had made a mistake one of her ten year-old students could have avoided.

This was the Celtics last night.  They called themselves champions.  People have been saying they didn’t have the same depth, KG was out.  Powe was out. But lets give them some credit.  Even with all of the injuries, last night was not a fair representation of their team.  Tired, injured, I don’t care. They were not the champions we know.  They got lost in the page last night.  Howard challenged them and they blushed. 

Perkins looked straight out terrified.  Pierce couldn’t sink a foul shot; in fact he could barely draw a foul.  House forgot how to through threes. Rondo decided he was over lay-ups. 

It’s just a shame their typo came game seven.  We all have these days.  We just aren’t millionaires regardless.  But they did give us the championship last year so maybe we should give them a break. With the Bs and Celts out and summer on its way, at least we can get our priorities straight.

I’m talking about something far more important than job hunting, I’m talking baseball. Finally we can all talk baseball again.

The New Red Sox

Remember watching the Sox before 2004? You watched spring season games like August games.  Watching games anywhere outside of what is now the nation, you’d realize no was watching the game, rather they were watching you watch the game. Red Sox fans were bizarre specimens ESPN tried to explain to the rest of the county. People thought we were anything but sane. Well, except for those poor people in Chicago.

Now we have two rings and enough bandwagon fans to tip the state over.  We even have other people resenting us for our constant success and payroll. A little scary, and yes, a little awesome.

Watching the Bruins is a little awesome and a lot scary.  Watching game six a man came up to me to tell me to sports weren’t everything. He said I was shaking.  I agreed sports aren’t everything, but in a do or die situation like this one, I preferred he not distract me.

I almost forgot the feeling of a sports hangover.  The adrenaline I’ve had the whole season thinking about what could be now a lagging headache.  The last time I felt this bad was the fall of 2003.  And after that we had to brave a winter. At least after Bruins heartbreak its becoming beach weather.  And still the Bs did what some thought was impossible this year. They inched hockey back into this city.  Bars started playing games again.  You weren’t the only one wearing a Thomas jersey this week.  Hockey notes weren’t just something taking precious writing space away from baseball in the Globe.

Think about where this team was a year ago. They were a footnote. Now think about where they can go in a year.  And if all that isn’t enough to get you out of bed after that sucker-punching pansy of all people had us eliminated, think of this: maybe this means another year of affordable tickets. Remember the spring after Grady Little? This year we wanted it bad.  Next year we need it bad.

Oh Manny

More Manny news. At first glance, I’ll admit, I was ecstatic. I saw suspension and hoped it was a true Manny moment that would cloud over Mannywood for once and for all. When I realized it was a failed drug test, I was disheartened.  I love hating Manny as much as the next guy, but not for this. Same with A-Rod. I will boo them both happily at Fenway, but it has and never will be my hope for any player to use drugs. It ruins the beautiful game we once knew as baseball.

I want to boo Manny because Lester strikes him out. Or he is two busy putting playing with his hair to catch a fly.  The fact is if he failed a drug test, there will be more.  Baseball still isn’t able to rid the game of the steroid era.

You want any sport to be the best. And I’ll miss Manny for the next fifty games. A part of me misses him for the past few years. What if this is why he was so good with us?  If Manny was using in 2004, that season becomes a lot less magical. I sincerely hope this wasn’t the case.  But for a while Manny was a hero in this town. We had our own version of Mannywood in Boston.  Mannys been a villain now for a while in this town, inactive villains aren’t much fun.  I love baseball more than I hate Manny, so I hope baseball is finally able to clean the sport up for once and for all, so we can back to some good old fashioned hating.

My Time Out

It’s that time of year again. A few of my best friends have been trying to figure out a lunch date. After numerous emails and calls they figured I had changed my address, or maybe went away. In a sense I have been away. With playoffs and baseball season I work watch (or listen) and immediately pass out when the games end. It’s too much adrenaline. I need a twenty day time out just to keep up.

If you watch sports the way I do, it’s more of a sickness than a social thing.  By the end of the game you need sleep. Before the game you need sleep. You need a half hour before each game to read the Globe to size up the competition. To disagree with Shaughnessy. To have Fluto answer some questions. My only friends right now are either sports writers or commentators. You need an hour each day to do laundry, because there is beer all over your lucky jersey from jumping as Pierce missed a foul shot. As we speak my near broken washer is violently tossing around my Bruins jersey, Pierce jersey,  Go Home Yankees T, and a pair of red socks. The only portion of my room I’m able to keep organized is my jersey drawer.

I have been watching the local news now for forty-eight minutes in hopes to see Lester’s 10 strike outs with no success. They have done the weather three times. Thirty-four MA residents have the swine flu. The Globe might go under. No sports, and they call this the local news.

Last night I went straight from watching the tired Celts to watching Damons homer.  For a few minutes it was a terrifying reality.  After the past few days in Boston sports I need to see Lesters ten strikeouts in the new lavish Yankee stadium again just to get out of my pajamas.  I want the details of those few tired wet Yankee fans that stayed only to leave broken. I need to watch Lester strike out Damon the way most people need coffee in the morning.

I’ve now seen the weather forecast four times. I hope to God the Globe doesn’t go under.