We are seven games behind. We are just a game ahead of Texas in the wild card race. But here’s the thing, I’m not panicking. Last night over dinner my father asked me if the Yankees lost Tuesday night. I had no answer, I had to look it up. Since I’ve had the Internet, this noted the first time I didn’t know where the Sox were in the standings.
It isn’t that I am overly sure of the Sox either. I can hardly watch them this month. I want to send my kid cousin in to pinch hit. This summer than addict was taken out of the fanaddict.
The thing about baseball I always loved was the purity of emotion. It had always been about the game. It was about commiserating for the players. When they didn’t hit you may as well not get out of bed until 3PM,because these were our boys. This year we were asked a lot out of these boys. The heroes and legends that broke what in Boston seemed like a mythical curse, suddenly were tainted. I was genuinely upset. I cheated in Go Fish years ago, and I still think about it.
I know this is only temporary. I had one of these spells when Johnny Damon went to the Yankees years ago. Where did all the good men go, and thankfully, that winter I found them in hockey.
Friday I am going to the game. I am taking a kid who has never been. I have been waiting to take him to Fenway since he was born, asking his father each year, is he ready? Because, to me, a Fenway first is more life changing than communion will ever be. It’s a game against the Yankees. But that’s not why I’m excited. Remy is back. And in this dark season of baseball, Remy reminded me of the good men. Remy who has made us laugh for years, got us through the winless years, told us he was dealing with depression. One of the hardest things to vocalize. In an era where players can’t even be honest even when the fans already know, Remy showed us honesty and integrity we had stopped associating with baseball.
So soon this spell will be over. I will be getting back to baseball, and even better, so will Remdawg.
