New England Mamas

Opening Day 2008

On Tuesday I had the opportunity to attend Opening Day at Fenway with my dad and two brothers.

Now, the prospect of going to Opening Day would be exciting enough for me... but the fact that our boys won the World Series last October (had you heard?) and the opening ceremony would therefore be a MAJOR CELEBRATION was just icing on the cake with sprinkles.

As you can probably imagine, anybody within about a 5 mile radius of Fenway was in full Red Sox gear (my party included). And the just by the sheer number of people in total excitement mode within a 10 mile radius of the park, I couldn't help but wonder, "Does anyone in Boston work!?"

I guess that's why they call Opening Day the first unofficial holiday of the year in Boston.

Once inside the park, we had the required beers, Fenway Franks in hand and got to our seats, which are along the first base line, just as the outfield begins.

The Boston Pops played as the "2007 World Series Champions" flag was draped over the Green Monster. Talk about chills!

Then they announced the Boston Bruins, Boston Celtics and New England Patriots players who had come to celebrate the festivities. I was happy to see my mom's bud Tedy Bruschi had made the trip there. ;)

And then it was time for the ring ceremony.

The players came out one by one to receive their rings to a huge standing ovation, with the Boston Pops playing a different song for each guy.

Of course, you probably already know (or can make an educated guess about) what they played when Jonathan Papelbon came out:

I was hoping to get a little dance out of him, but I guess the timing wouldn't have been too appropriate. Oh well.

And then it was time for the first pitch. Now, I was kind of too young in 1986 to fully appreciate the whole hullabaloo around Bill Buckner's fateful error in the playoffs.

I just remember still hearing about it years later and thinking, "It couldn't have been JUST this guy's fault they lost."

In any case, there was some chattering in the stands about who would be throwing out the first pitch. The annoying woman from Medford behind us (who did not stop talking loudly the entire game) had heard it was going to be Bill Buckner.

Well, soon enough we discovered she was right. (She was, however, wrong in saying that the New Kids On the Block would be singing the National Anthem, thank goodness. As one of my brothers said, if they wanted to hear 40,000 drunk people boo, bringing out NKOTB would have been a good move.)

When they announced that Bill Buckner would be throwing the first pitch, and he started walking to the pitcher's mound from left field, the crowd went crazy. I'm not sure about the name of the piece the Boston Pops was playing as he walked out, but it fit the moment perfectly.

Buckner was wiping his eyes as he walked out, waving to the cheering crowd,  and I must say, even I felt myself getting a little Verklempt. It was a beautiful thing to witness.

Then, during the 6th inning, we heard another person sitting behind us say, "I just saw Aerosmith when I went to get a beer! He was surrounded by like a million security people."

Now, we all know (besides, of course, that guy) that Aerosmith is a band, not a person. He was obviously referring to Steven Tyler OF Aerosmith. And lo and behold, guess who came out during the 7th inning stretch to sing "America The Beautiful?"

One a little bit feminine looking Steven Tyler. We were pretty close to him, so I was able to get a few good shots. Here's one:

The actual game itself was pretty uneventful, but the Red Sox did shut out the Detroit Tigers, so the "win" part was pretty nice.

It was a good day.

 

Me and the Tedster

OK… I am a New England Patriots FANatic, as are most of us New England Mamas.

And the two weeks since the not-so-Super Bowl for us New Englanders have begun to heal (a tiny bit) what reason cannot.

Don’t get me wrong.  I still wake up mornings with that sense of disbelief and, well, broken-heartedness that is our human lot when our hopes and great expectations become promises for perhaps another day, another year.

Oh, and it doesn’t help that one of our very close friends, who is (or was?) a die-hard Steelers fan, now works for the Giants organization and has sent me a little reminder of our loss in about 300 photos, from arriving in Arizona through the New York City parade and everything in-between (yes, he was there for it all).  Yes, Doug… it has always been great fun for us to kick Steelers ass, but my wounds are still raw in a Giant sort of way.

I truly miss seeing my favorite guys in red, white and blue and rooting for them on Sunday afternoons and evenings during the fall and long New England winters. Guys like Tedy Bruschi.  I love this guy.  I love his story.  I love his enthusiasm for the game of football.  And I love his love of family.   

But anyway.  Football season is over.  Red Sox pitchers and catchers have reported for spring training.  And the Providence College men’s basketball team is still hanging on… OK, by a thread, but my husband* and I are fans anyway.  Go Friars!

(*my husband Barry grew up listening to the Friars’ games on the radio back in the early ‘60s when his idols like Lenny Wilkens, Johnny Egan and Ray Flynn were playing, and he has lived Friars Basketball ever since… so to now have 2 seats on the floor of The Dunk is more than a dream-come-true.  He is kinda like Jack Nicholson at Lakers’ games!)

I love sports so much because it is a great equalizer.  Sure, to be great at tennis or golf or perhaps polo, your parents just may have had a few bucks.  But I still believe in my heart and soul that most sports greats are guys and girls with a lot of talent and more determination and let’s just say it… sometimes balls, than most others. 

This is why I love Tedy Bruschi so much.  He is that perfect combination of quiet certainty and heroic humility.  I can see why he is an idol to so many New Englanders, as attested by the thousands of fans who wear his jersey. 

So how exactly does Tedy Bruschi fit into my conversation of the Providence College Friars?  As my husband and I ran to our seats at The Dunk yesterday to watch Providence College (or so we hoped!) redefine Rick Pitino’s day, we were not immediately allowed to get to our seats.  Instead, we had to enter from another direction.  As we ducked our way along, a fellow season ticket holder and now friend stopped us to introduce us to his guest at the game.  As I extended my hand, I realized that Tedy Bruschi was at the other end of it.

Tedy Bruschi.  Tedy Bruschi sitting right there next to my husband. 

Now, let me just say here that I am not a bothersome fan.  I admire from the sidelines, from our section 9 season seats at Fenway Park, from the bleachers if I need to, from the floor of The Dunk, from box seats when I can get them, and/or sitting at a bar or in my family room.

I admire what it takes to become a great athlete.  My husband’s childhood dream was to play for the Friars… he ate, walked and slept basketball.  But he took a different journey.  You know, a few little wise-guy moments that got his grades and his sports dreams all messed up.  And my journey was different too.  I played basketball and softball as a kid, but ended up cocktail waitressing and jewelry-piece-working my way through college.

By the time we found each other and sparks flew like fireworks, we were both teaching inner-city kids.  We knew then that these kids needed dreams and ways to accomplish them… and that became our focus.  But we still loved our sports teams.  As our own kids came along, we literally saved pennies to take them to Fenway.  Or the former Providence Civic Center… now The Dunk.  To Boston Garden.  To Foxboro Stadium. And all the Halls of Fame.  Our sons loved basketball and football, and our daughters excelled in swimming and running. 

But back to Tedy Bruschi.  So gracious under the scrutiny of thousands of fans.  So enthusiastic about the Friars.  And sitting right next to us, talking to my husband like he is just another basketball fan.

Then the phone calls.  The first one was from a friend.  Then my husband’s brother.  Then our granddaughter, Taylor.  “Wow, Grandpa.  I just saw you and Grandma on television sitting next to Tedy Bruschi!”  And text messages.  It seems that ESPN was covering the game nationwide, and my husband and I got in the frame as Tedy was being filmed. 

Too fun!

And then last night everyone asked, “Did you get a photograph with Tedy?”

“Well, no,” we explained.  “It didn’t seem appropriate.  After all, Tedy was a guest of a friend.  That would have been a little tacky of us.”

“Oh, no!” Our five-year old grandson, Andrew, was so horrified that we had no photo that we thought he may never speak to us again.

“Sorry, Little Buddy.” 

Then this morning, the phone calls started coming again.  “Hey, Sharon.  Is that you next to Tedy Bruschi at the PC game?” 

And yes, it is!  Right there in the sports section of the Providence Sunday Journal.  Me and Tedy.

 

Ah, ha!  Not only do I have a coveted photo of one of my all-time favorite sports guys, I can show it to my 2 granddaughters and 5 grandsons (with 2 more on the way!). 

So what more of a hero can I be? 

None!

I love it.

Thanks, Mike, for bringing Tedy to the game!

- Sharon

(photo credit: The Providence Journal / Gretchen Ertl)

Because I needed to see the ocean

I picked Kiddo up yesterday and surprised her by saying "let's go to the beach."

"Can't we just go home?  I'm tired"

"Kiddo, I really need to see the ocean"

So off we went, north on 495, taking the back way through Amesbury, through the center of Newburyport, past my dad's old house, and straight on to Plumb Island.   I hyped it as a road trip when really I just needed some time in a place that was serene and familiar.  Sure, I know the Pats' loss on Sunday really isn't important in the big scheme of things- the guys on the team are fantastically talented multi-millionaires.  They'll bounce back. Still,  I couldn't help but feel crestfallen, and more than a little sad. 

I have a friend who's on assignment in Iraq right now.  He wrote an amazing post about watching the game in Baghdad with a bunch of servicemen and journalists from Massachusetts.  It's amazing how something so apparently simple as a sporting event can make strangers come together in a moment that feels like home.  I told him that it seemed as though the Boston media just sort of decided not to talk about the game yesterday.  Thank goodness for Super Tuesday and visits from Hillary and McCain. 

I find so much comfort in being near the ocean.  We walked the shore and collected shells and picked up some garbage.  Went to the Parker River wildlife refuge and I talked to Kiddo about salt marsh habitats and brackish estuaries and coastal ecosystems and how we're all connected and that losing even one plant or animal can have an effect on the entire community.

In an attempt to escape, however briefly, I was reminded of how connected we all are, and how much we depend on one another.  And as we drove home the gathering clouds blocked the colors of the sunset, but not the sun. The days are getting longer.  Spring is coming.  There is hope.

And in nine days, pitchers and catchers report.

Don't cry for them, New England

I imagine that most sports bars and Super Bowl parties across New England looked and sounded the same last night around 10 o'clock.

Stunned faces. Dead silence.

(Meanwhile, I pictured the reaction at similar sports bars and Super Bowl parties across New York, New Jersey - and the rest of the country, for that matter - as being quite different. Jubilant would probably sum it up).

Yet, as much as I would have loved to see the Patriots win the Super Bowl and have that perfect season that seemed so attainable before last night's game, it just didn't happen. And that's that.

I couldn't even listen to my favorite talk radio show this morning. The Patriots fans calling in were so depressed that it was just downright... depressing.

And the non-Patriots fans were calling in sounding so giddy, it was as if they had singlehandedly won the game.

But that brings me to my point.

Guys? When it comes down to it? It's just... a game.

It's grown men running around in spandex and shoulder pads, throwing (and kicking) a ball from one side of the field to another.

It's grown men getting paid millions of dollars to do this. It's what they do for work.

Not a bad gig.

And last night after watching the game at a neighbor's house, my husband and I walked back to our little home on our little street. Monday morning, and another work week, would be coming soon.

And although I was disappointed in the Super Bowl loss, I couldn't help but think this: There probably isn't one player on the Patriots roster who would lose any sleep if I had a bad day at work.

Because the reality is, that's what it comes down to. They had a really, reallllllly shitty day at work.

But they'll wake up this morning, hop on a private plane back to Boston, have a limo drive them to their multi-million dollar homes, maybe get a really nice massage, relax in their giant jacuzzis and/or home movie theaters (hey, I've seen MTV's Cribs)and start their months-long off-season hiatus.

Oh, and on that hiatus? Maybe they'll take a trip (or a few) somewhere warm. Earn a few more million pulling in some endorsements. Get some team workouts in. Play a little fantasy baseball just for the fun of it.

Yes, I'm generalizing a bit. But what I'm getting at is this: life goes on after a Super Bowl loss. In fact, life goes on quite comfortably for the players; even those on the losing team.

So let's try to look at it as a bad day at work. We've all had 'em. The Pats had one last night.

You may have one today. And if you do, just call up your masseuse for a nice, deep-tissue rubdown. And don't listen to talk radio. Hearing your depressed fans will just make it worse.

- Jane

Incoherent might be perfect for the Stuporbowl

I have a bit of a problem sleeping. As in, I haven't slept in over 48 hours. And I'm still going. The thing is, I have this big lovely antique piece of furniture in my room. It's called a bed. It's a pretty bed, a comfortable bed, a sqeeky bed. But I love my bed. However, my bed does not always love me. When I get sick, as I've been for the past few weeks with a wee bit of incurable pneumonia, I tend to cough all night long. My bed does not like this. It does not allow me to sit up straight enough to keep the phlegm fest in my chest from making me choke. It mocks me every time I lay down, knowing that I'm just going to pop back up again because lying down is impossible.

With no sleep in a couple of nights, and very little sleep before that, I'm a tad bit punchy. Oh, I'm freaking nuts. I'm tired, I'm crabby, and I have a feeling that I need a full lung transplant, like tomorrow. My kids aren't taking kindly to my lack of pleasant demeanor. Oh well, they're teenagers, they understand surly, right?

But... we're having people over today for the Stuporbowl. I admit it, not a big football fan here. I barely understand the game, and the esoteric rules and calls go right over my head. Of course we're rooting for the Pats, because that is what one does in Boston, but mostly I'm rooting for the commercials.

I like the commercials better than the game. There, I said it. I can't stand most Budweiser commercials unless they have the Clydesdales in them. But I tend to like the smaller dotcom commercials. They're clever, they're funny, and they're so different than the usual dreck we have on TV most of the time.

Because I'm so tired, I feel like it I can just make it through the commercials, I'm doing good. Maybe I can nap through the game and just wake up for the commercials. That's the ticket!

Do you love the Patriots more than you love your country?

We've got a couple of very (very very) important events coming up for ol' New England in the next few days - First being the Super Bowl

(Have you heard about this? Apparently this little team called the Patriots are playing some team called the Giants?  Anyone?)

and the second is Super Tuesday.

Or is it Super Duper Tuesday?  Can we make a decision on this please?

Anyway.

When my secret lover, Tom Brady, and the Pats annihilate the lesser Manning brother and his team there will be a scheduling conflict between the rolling rally and Super Tuesday.   

The problem is this - The rally needs to be held on Tuesday, due to the fact that Brady and seven other players need to leave for the Pro Bowl on Wednesday, and if you haven't caught on yet from the name the Massachusetts primary is that same day. 

Will people be interested in voting in the primary if they're too busy packing up their families to head to Boston to celebrate the Patriots' 19-0 season?  Will they choose to vote before or after the rolling rally or will they even bother?  And if they bother but then partake of a few too many spirits during the celebration before voting do we need to chance all the "Bill Belichick for President!" write in votes?

What would you do?

First, are you planning on attending the rolling rally if the Patriots win?  Will you still vote in the primary if you do?  But more importantly, are we risking a jinx by even speaking about this?

Um...

Forget everything I just said.  Just forget this discussion ever came up, okay?

Nope, no talk of rallies here.

*backing away slowly*

Go Pats!

Explanations from a New York Sports Fan Spouse

I know I said I was writing a post on Pump It Up this week, but I am pushing it back to focus on something that has people around here more pumped up than Pump It Up anyway, specifically the subject of New York vs. New England sports. My husband, known in the blogosphere as the Big Giraffe, was born in New York City and despite spending what I consider to be his formative years (from when he was 2 until he was 13) on LoNG Island, he considers himself a total City person.  He did live and go to school in various boroughs of New York City until he was 29.  Although I couldn't care less about football, I understand that this year's Superbowl is a bit stressful for him, but I don't think I understand exactly where he is coming from.  Here's why...

Alex Elliot (AE):  So are the Patriots really going to win the Superbowl?
Big Giraffe (BG):  Probably.  Unfortunately, they may be the best football team to have ever played.

AE:  Why unfortunately?

BG:  Because you know I hate the Patriots.
AE:  I have never understood that.  Why do you hate the Patriots.
BG:  I don't know.  I have hated them for as long as I can remember.
AE:  But they are our home team now, and the boys will root for them.
BG:  I am sure the boys will root for them.  I won't.  I root for all New York teams.
AE:  So are you rooting for the Giants this week?
BG:  Yes.
AE:  Because they are a New York team?
BG:  No, because they are playing against the Patriots.
AE:  So you aren't a Giants fan?
BG:  No.  I don't have any strong feelings about the Giants.
AE:  Then do you root for the Jets?
BG:  I hate the Jets.  The only team I hate more than the Jets are the Patriots.
AE:  I thought you root for all New York teams?
BG:  I do.  Neither the Giants nor the Jets are New York teams.
AE:  Aren't they called the New York Giants and the New York Jets?
BG:  They are called that, just like the Manchester Airport is called Manchester Boston Regional.  They can call it whatever they want, but the airport is in New Hampshire.  The Giants and Jets play in New Jersey.
AE:  It is just on the other side of the river!  I could get from Midtown Manhattan to the Meadowlands faster than I could have gotten to your old apartment in Brooklyn.
BG:  Brooklyn is in New York City.  The Meadowlands are not.
AE:  So who is your favorite football team?
BG:  Mumble mumble.
AE:  Who?
BG:  Mumble mumble.
AE:  I still can't hear you.
BG:  The Miami Dolphins.
AE:  Aren't they the worst team in football?
BG:  Mumble.
AE:  What?
BG:  Yes.  They suck.  They are still my favorite team?
AE:  But they don't play in New York!
BG:  There are no New York football teams.  Well except for Buffalo, but they don't count because they are nowhere near New York City.
AE:  They are closer than Miami.  So are the Giants, Jets, and for that matter, the Patriots.
BG:  Look, if I were rooting for teams that play in the suburbs of New York City, I probably would root for the Patriots.
AE:  New England is not a suburb of New York City, except for Southern Connecticut.
BG:  Southern Connecticut is in New England, so at least part of New England is a suburb of New York City.  We can debate about the economic dependence of the rest of the region.
AE:  Good luck with that debate.  So what will you tell the boys if their home team loses this week? BG:  To paraphrase a friend of mine from San Diego, 18-1 is nothing to be ashamed of.
AE:  You and he think that line is funny?
BG:  I do.  He found it funnier two weeks ago before the Patriots beat San Diego.
AE:  I expect you to be in the same situation next week.

Yes, I'm ready for some football

OK, I'll admit that I've always been kind of a girly-girl when it comes to understanding football.

This year I was kind of forced into "getting it" a little more because my husband coached football at his high school.

But that doesn't mean I completely enjoyed sitting through the games.

It's not that I don't like sports. In fact, I would consider myself an athlete. I swam competitively from age 5 to age 17. I ran track and cross-country in high school, and was even recruited to run in college. I played Little League softball until I was in 8th grade.

I get sports.

I just never got football.

You see, back when I was in high school, going to my school's football games was all about the social aspect. I don't think I ever really even watched most of the action (or lack thereof) taking place.

My college's football team was... a little pathetic. I remember one of my brothers coming to visit me one weekend, and I took him to a game. We were walking into the stadium and he asked me, "Where do we pay to get in?"

I laughed. Pay!? They were begging people to go.

As for watching the professional teams play, I have really only ever followed (and I use that term rather loosely) the Patriots (of course!).

And I've always watched the Super Bowl because, well... what else is there to do that night but eat and do what everyone else is doing? (Yeah, I follow the crowd like that.)

Sure, I've always understood the major point of the game - the touchdown, the field goal, the grown men touching other grown men on their backsides.

But, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit that up until this year, I never really knew that there were guys who just played offense and guys who just played defense.  (*Hiding in shame*)

I also didn't get why the words "he's going for it on fourth down" sent people into a panic mode. (*Running away*)

And I swear in the name of Tom Brady, I never knew that the quarterback was only on the field with the offense. (*Changing my name*)

But I'm proud to announce, ladies and gentlemen, that I now get football - for the most part.

I mean, I am still unsure of what the hell everyone on the field is in charge of, what with their fancy names and all - Safety, Linebacker, Tight end, Running back. But I think that's OK, because at least I know what they're trying to accomplish.

In other words, I get the big picture. And I'm cool with that.

So this weekend when I'm watching the Pats play (and hopefully they'll be playing in two weeks, too), I can enjoy the game(s) with my newfound football knowledge. And that makes me happy.

I think it will make the serious-football-fanatic-don't-ask-me-questions-during-these-big-plays men around me happy, too.

- Jane

If you're a Pats fan, or know someone who is, there is a giveaway for 2 wicked awesome Pats T's going on over here.

So you think you're a Pats fan? Are you really?

Maybe you've noticed a phenomenon happening in the New England sports scene since Spygate back in September.  Maybe you didn't notice it until ESPN the magazine and Sports Illustrated (not to mention all the sports television channels) started referring to the Patriots as Villains of the NFL.  Or maybe when they started to compare New England teams (mainly the Pats and the Red Sox) to the Yankees' evil empire.  Maybe you haven't noticed at all because it's been pretty quiet.

The phenomenon?  The non-diehard fans are quietly jumping off of the New England sports band wagon.

To which I say, "Don't let the door hit you where the good Lord split you". 

I really could not be happier.  Have you tried to get tickets for a Sox or Patriots game in the past few years?  Impossible, totally impossible, unless you have connections.  Which I don't.

It's not uncommon for the casual fan to jump on a particular team's bandwagon.  People love the underdog, don't they?  But they especially love it when the underdog, the really likable team, starts winning.  When the Sox won the 2004 World Series it was easy to see from every other game played in every other city in North America in the 2005 season that they had generated a larger fan base.  The sea of Red Sox hats and t-shirts were everywhere.  In Toronto.  In Florida.  All of the American League people hopped aboard the bandwagon because the 2004 team was so damn likable.  When the Pats won their first Super Bowl in 2002, as the underdogs, the every man, the guys you just had to love as they left entered the stadium as a team instead of being called individually, the same thing had already happened. 

Because people love the underdog.

But when the underdog starts winning more often, when they win a Super Bowl not just in the '01 season but in the '03 and '04 seasons (and quite possibly in '08 but we won't talk of that for risk of jinxing something), and when they not only win but demolish their competition and break all sorts of records... Well that's just no fun for the casual fan.  The team isn't as enjoyable to like.  And the casual fan starts jumping off like rats from a sinking ship even if this ship is not sinking.  Imagine if the team just sucked?  The traffic jam generated from all those casual fans throwing themselves off the bandwagon would be worse than trying to leave Boston before a holiday weekend.  With a snowstorm in progress.

Buh-bye.  Please don't forget to take your commemorative plastic beer cup when you leave.

The real Pats fan (and for that matter, the Red Sox fan) loves that their team is on top right now.  A real Pats fan remembers the lean years of the late 80's-early 90's, when it seemed we couldn't buy a win, and sees this dynasty as a gift from the football gods.  A real Pats fan watches Brady throw to Moss (or Welker or Stallworth or Gaffney) for a touchdown and wants to see it again and again.  A real Pats fan wants to enjoy our good fortune and roll around in it, naked, like Demi Moore on a bed of money.  A real Pats fan sees the score run up against our opponents and wants to yell at the television, if I can borrow one of Bill Simmons the Sports Guy's - originally the BOSTON Sports Guy - favorite quotes from The Karate Kid, "Get him a body bag! Yeah!"

Only a true fan could route for the villain.  Not that we see our team as the bad guys, we just don't care that much that the rest of the country does.  You don't like our team?  We can live with that because we love them.  And if, God forbid, they don't win the Super Bowl (*crossing myself to ward off jinxes*) or if next season they don't play as great as they did this year we'll still love them.

Because a true fan doesn't just love their team when they're winning, they love them when they're losing.  But when they're crushing the competition into the ground we love them even more.

16 and oh, baby!  Yeah!