I Saw the Trophys!

I experienced a huge Masshole milestone last night -- I got to meet a few of the World Champion Red Sox players, Alex Cora and Javier Lopez (who though born in Puerto Rico, went to Robinson HS and UVa). Plus, I got an autograph from the team's manager, Terry Francona.
I was at the Hyde Park Lions Club Sportsmen of the Year Banquet; Cora and Lopez were recipients and Francona was there as an added bonus.
Oddly, I had the longest athlete-chat with Todd Collins, the Boston-area boy who started for the Washington Redskins toward the end of the season and managed to help get them into the playoffs. You know I don't care about the Redskins; this info is for Kevin.
The most exciting news of the night was when they announced that the 2 (!) World Series trophys were in the building and that we could have our pictures taken with them. I waited my turn and didn't knock over any kids, but I was so giddy that my hands were shaking. My co-worker Rich, who got the tickets, took my picture for posterity. Now I can mark one more thing off my "To Do List for Becoming An Insufferable Masshole." Next up: Superbowl XLII.

The Best "Welcome to Boston" Gift EVER!

I know that Jim has reiterated that this is NOT A BASEBALL BLOG!
But on this day, in this place, how can I not write a something about how it feels to be surrounded by people who are a little bit happier, kinder, who walk with a lightness of step and who, despite being severely sleep-deprived, feel refreshed and, dare I say, normal?
The Sox normalized all of us, their fans last night; this World Series win feels different, less like there was something to prove and more like our team was the best team, wire to wire. I didn't even cry at all - even when cancer-survivor Mike Lowell won the Series MVP. (SIGN HIM!)
I am cognizant that I'm stepping near Ken Burns and George F. Will territory here as I glorously opine about the national pastime and that C.T. is going to give me an unending ration of shit for being so emotional about a game.
Instead I'll let one of our nation's best poets, Walt Whitman, speak for me:
I see great things in baseball. It's our game - the American game. It will...be a blessing to us.
Amen, Walt. Amen.

I BELIEVE!

My World Series prediction: Sox in 6. This isn't hubris; this is faith.
Now off to bed - I start my new job tomorrow.