White-Knuckled Fingernails on a Chalkboard
Wherein Our Heroine
Barely Dares to Hope.
Good grief, but I hope the Sox take it
tonight.
Yes, I want them to
win - to break the "curse," to end the chapter called "No World Series Wins" at
86 years. I want to see this team go all the way - they are feisty and driven
and they have played really well over the last six games. They deserve
it.
But most of all, I'm very,
very tired. Our Hero and I kept saying, "We'll go to bed after this inning,"
last night. We kept it up until there were no more innings. We have missed
some good stuff this season by being complete cowards and saying, "I can't bear
to see them lose this one," and going to bed, only to wake up in the morning and
find out they've won. However, late nights of baseball and early mornings are
not made for one another.
Friends know that we're not
the "I love the night life" types. Call us after nine in the evening during the
week, and you're likely to get a sleepy voice pilfering an old Cosby joke ("Oh,
I'm sorry - did I wake you?" "Don't worry - I had to get up and answer the
phone anyway.") John sleeps poorly at the best of times, and gets up early so
he can get to work before traffic gets really hairy. I sleep like a log, but I
also need lots of the stuff, and I generally get up about an hour after he does.
Last night we staggered to bed at midnight, and John got up at his usual
five-or-so in the morning.
So
this is a plea to Johnny, Pedro, Manny, Curt, Jason, Mark, Orlando, Pokey, Trot,
David and all of the other Red Sox. Please. Take the Series tonight. We need
the
sleep.
Addendum:
I
would like to add that it is very interesting to watch a game with this much
riding on it and actually feel sympathy for the other side. Normally, games
this big for a Sox fan are against those dreaded Yankees - we've seen the Yanks
win often enough that we hardly notice their fans unless they're jeering,
booing, or setting up a chant of "Who's your daddy?" As a result, when a Yankee
fan is crushed with disappointment, it's hard to feel sorry for
them.
But John and I both
noted last night that we could really empathize with the Cardinals fans. We
recognized those hunched forms, huddling over clasped hands. We know what it
feels like to have that empty, hopeless-yet-hanging-in-there longing in the
eyes. We sympathize with the rally caps and the restless agitation by the
seventh inning. We know. We really know.
Posted: Wednesday - October 27, 2004 at 08:17 AM
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