Hoo's On First
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Thursday, January 27, 2005

A Long Cold Winter

It's a long cold winter. And not just because there's over two feet of snow on the ground and sub zero wind chill.

All I have to say is thank God for the Patriots. Without them my winter would be longer and colder. But football is only once a week. And right now, not for two weeks. And I have to admit, as much as I love football and the Patriots . . . baseball is my One True Love, so to speak. And the wait between the last game of the season until Spring Training seems interminable.

I've been whiling away a few nights watching and taping World Series Winter on NESN. I really enjoyed the 1975 series. I was only a small child at the time and watching the entire games has been great. I also watched games 1-5 of the 1986 series but last night I found myself unable to watch game 6 (or game 7 tonight for that matter). I know what happens. I've seen it al before. And with last October's triumphs, the fact they didn't win then doesn't hurt as much. Yet, I still couldn't bring myself to watch. And I tried to figure out why. I mean I had no trouble watching game 7 of the 1976 series. And I think I may know why. The '86 team was the first team I truly fell in love with. I knew all the players. I followed them. I had crushes on some of them. Heck I wore black hightops for years after that October. I felt I knew them. Almost . . . family in a way. And it's not my pain that I don't want to experiance. It's theirs. I didn't want to see Calvin allow those hits. I didn't want to watch Stanley and Geddy and that pitch. And I certainly didn't want to watch poor Billy Buck and that grounder. Like you don't want to see the people you love in your life screw up or experiance pain, I don't want to watch "my players" go through all that again.

And on a somewhat related note. Watching Buckner play with his ankles like they were has made me admire him all the more. In game 5, when he scored from second on that hit, it just looked so painful. And I thought - if they had won, he would have been hailed as a hero. He could have been the '86 version of Schilling in some ways. But fate, and baseballs, bounce in unexpected directions. I've naver ever blamed him. In fact, I wrote my very first fan letter to anyone ever to him that winter. Now Mcnamara on the other hand . . .

posted at 7:28 PM by Hoothehoo


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