Excuse me while I become completely unproductive for the next 10 days, obsessing on the many ways in which the Red Sox can somehow lose the world series. (and on how the Democrats will manage to lose the next election....could these things be related?)
To be honest, I haven't watched a whole regular season Sox game for almost 11 years. True fan, huh?
But every year, when post-season comes around, I am sucked right back to my childhood in New England. I turn right back into that geeky girl who could name every single Sox player in the '78 season, including what position they played and their number.
There is a car in our neighborhood with the license plate "Rice08" Every time I see it, I say to myself, "No, Rice was 14. Yaz was 8." Eventually I figured out that it is just a Republican unhappy with the current choices. (The "Bush/Cheney" bumper sticker gave it away.)
I suspect those of you who really follow the Sox must think of me the way regular church-goers think of the folks who only show up on Christmas and Easter.
And in 2007, you'd be right.
But in 1978, I was right there with you.
My favorite Red Sox player, ever.