And cats named Pudge and Pesky.
I am sitting in my living room watching game 4 of the World Series and for at least today, the Red Sox are still world champions. Like many others in Red Sox Nation, today has made me think and reflect, not just about the magical perfect 2004 season, but about baseball, in general, and the Red Sox, in particular.
It turns out that I’ve been writing about baseball longer than I’ve been blogging about it. Today, I’m going to make 17 entries (and 17 is the sum of the numbers of Ted Williams and Yaz) in my blog. The entries are old email messages dating back to 1999. They don’t tell all of the story but they are a good start. I’ll be backdating those posts to the date or the original email messages.
I grew up in Maine listening to the Red Sox on the radio, watching the occasional game on WSBK TV38, and attending games with my dad most summers. I am old enough to remember the heartbreaks of 1975, 1978, and 1986. I will tell my 1986 story some other time.
I have three kids, coached them five times in Little League, and built a 4/9 scale baseball field in my back yard. Our porch, which is gray, is our Green Monster. At the shortstop position is a maple tree, which we long ago named Nomar. We did not rename the tree when Nomar was traded at the trading deadline last year.
This summer, we got two kittens for the kids, and, of course, they have historic Red Sox names as well. As I write this they are wrestling by my feet. They are brothers. The older one is Pesky, the younger one is Pudge.
