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kenjariI have never been a sports fan, at all, never mind a baseball fan. In fact, in my adolescence I was a militant non-fan. But this has changed over the last three or four years - I have become a Red Sox fan. It all started when I moved from Somerville to Allston, from living in a different town than Fenway Park to living a short T ride away from it. Initially, I started paying attention to the team's schedule as a method of commuter self-defense, because the green line can get unbelievably crowded in the hour or so before a game (even sardines would feel claustrophobic on those trains). It was always good to know in advance when the ride home from work or school would be hellish.
But then I started to get interested in what was actually going on with the Red Sox. I have enough natural curiosity that that's not really surprising. And I began to notice that I was happy when they won. Finally, last year I found myself watching the end of a Sox game and actually feeling excited and nervous as the 9th inning waned, and than jubilant when the Sox won. The confirmation of my status as a Red Sox fan came earlier this month, sitting alone in a hotel room in Kansas City, flipping channels. I stumbled upon ESPN which was showing the Boston-Anaheim game at Fenway. I got to see the home run that won the game for the Red Sox. And I was cheering. By myself. Not only had the Red Sox won, but it was as if, by doing so, they had sent a little piece of home to me from halfway across the country. I felt so good.
Now here I am, feeling the hope and the anxiety, watching the games with a flutter in my stomach. Last night Other Kenjari and I were watching the last bit of the game. The Yankees had just scored their thrid run, the score was 4-3. It was late, and we decided we just couldn't take it anymore. Other Kenjari turned off the TV and we settled down to sleep. Ten minutes later, we realized we couldn't not watch. So back on the TV went. To find that Rodriguez had spoiled the run with an interference, the score was back to 4-2, and the game was in the bottom of the 9th. And then they won, and we muted the TV so that we could hear the cheering erupting through the neighborhood.
But then I started to get interested in what was actually going on with the Red Sox. I have enough natural curiosity that that's not really surprising. And I began to notice that I was happy when they won. Finally, last year I found myself watching the end of a Sox game and actually feeling excited and nervous as the 9th inning waned, and than jubilant when the Sox won. The confirmation of my status as a Red Sox fan came earlier this month, sitting alone in a hotel room in Kansas City, flipping channels. I stumbled upon ESPN which was showing the Boston-Anaheim game at Fenway. I got to see the home run that won the game for the Red Sox. And I was cheering. By myself. Not only had the Red Sox won, but it was as if, by doing so, they had sent a little piece of home to me from halfway across the country. I felt so good.
Now here I am, feeling the hope and the anxiety, watching the games with a flutter in my stomach. Last night Other Kenjari and I were watching the last bit of the game. The Yankees had just scored their thrid run, the score was 4-3. It was late, and we decided we just couldn't take it anymore. Other Kenjari turned off the TV and we settled down to sleep. Ten minutes later, we realized we couldn't not watch. So back on the TV went. To find that Rodriguez had spoiled the run with an interference, the score was back to 4-2, and the game was in the bottom of the 9th. And then they won, and we muted the TV so that we could hear the cheering erupting through the neighborhood.
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Date: 2004-10-20 10:12 am (UTC)And that is quite an experience. Something you don't grow up with in our hometown.