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.

 

Buckner

Recently, I was trying to explain the concept of redemption to Kiddo. We were watching something on television- I can't even remember what was on- and somebody came back from ruin and made things right again. We talked about mistakes and how it's not always easy to make amends, but if we're really lucky we can earn a chance to redeem ourselves.

Bill Buckner was my neighbor, well, sort of. I grew up in a pretty small town and I walked past his house regularly as he lived on the same street as one of my five friends named Jenn. His daughter Kristen was in my sister's class. I, like most Sox fans who were old enough to remember that fateful autumn evening in 1986, spent many years cursing his name. People jeered his kids at school. I remember that, too. And soon after the '86 season his house was on the market. Really, who could blame him?

A quick google search can tell you the details of that game. Plenty of people had screwed up before the ball went through Billy's legs and yet that's what we remember. Sox fans the world over distilled the facts out of Game Six and bound them to our collective pain until eighty six long years crystalized into one word: Buckner.

October 27, 2004. Game 4.

I'm listening to the game on the radio in my car and I'm worried. Kiddo is asleep in the back seat. We're on our way home from a party and I want to be off the road before the game ends. Our apartment is near a row of legendary Boston sports bars that have been packed nearly every night for the past month. There had been major rioting days before when the won the AL championship. Riot cops had accidentally shot and killed a student and I wanted my car off the street and my kid safely in bed, but the innings were ticking by too fast.

I get home late into the 7th inning, turn on the TV and pace. I'm alone in our apartment. Kiddo is asleep, Hubs is in Baltimore on business. Last time I spoke to him he was trying to find a bar that had friendly looking patrons dressed in Sox Gear. I open all the windows. I need to feel connected to the city around me.

Ninth inning. I text Warren: 'you ready for this?' he says something like ' I've been ready all my life.' I pace some more. I talk to my friend Ben in New York City who can't believe what he's seeing. I talk to my dad in Georgia. My sister in Seattle. Arwen in North Carolina. Game over. Sox win. I'm glad I have the windows open.

I go in to Kiddo's room to wake her up, but she squints, confused, and wants to go back to sleep. I talk to my dad again and asked him if he just heard the huge whooshing sound of hell freezing all the way in Georgia. I talk to my husband in Maryland. I, like countless New Englanders, am on the phone with loved ones near and far into the early hours of morning. Before sunrise on October 28, 2004, Sox fans are living in a new world. As I try to fall asleep, I think of my grandfather, born in 1918, who, in the last onths of his terminal illness, was fond of saying "At least the Sox won the World Series in my lifetime." And I think of one more name: Buckner. And I wonder if he was watching, too.

Today Red Sox Nation earned a chance at redemption. Welcome home, Billy.

cross-posted at www.intothesilentwater.blogspot.com

Sarah's Thursday Randomness

Did anyone else catch the spectacularly gorgeous New England sunrise this morning?  (I was driving to catch the train when I saw it--lest you think I specifically awoke just to view it.  Please.)

***********************

I heard that our very own Clay Buchholz is dating a Penthouse model.  Awww....his mother must be soooo proud.  (My boyz will not EVER be allowed to date, thankyouverymuch.)

**********************

One word--Ewwwwww!  (Ok, so that's not really even a word, but it's all I could come up with.)  Just ewwwww.

**********************

This morning, Eldest gleefully discovered the free Matchbox car that came in the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.  Well, Middle had a meltdown.  He WANTED that car!  Commence copious sobbing and hysterics from my almost 4-year old.  Now, mind you, we already have 863 Matchbox cars scattered throughout the Trenches.  Thankfully, in a rare heartwarming act of Big Brother Kindness, Eldest handed over the cheap coveted car to Middle.  Crisis averted.

Funny thing is, I totally remember my siblings and I being the exact same way when were were younger.  Ahhh, the timeless lure of the chintzy cereal box prize.  Nonetheless, I swear from now on I'm only buying Cheerios.

Money Grubbing Bahstahds

Dear Jonathan,

I liked you.  I really did.  You seemed like such a carefree young dude (the dancing) having the time of your life (the World Series win), loving the wild ride and intensity of being an ace closer (the fist pumping.)

But now?  Just SHUT UP already!

"I feel like with me being at the top of my position, I feel like that standard needs to be set and I'm the one to set that standard."

So you're declaring yourself #1?  Sounds a little conceited to me, Mister.  And I'm sure that statement will hardly make opposing hitters want to crush the ball on your lace-shirted-wearing watch, buddy.

"At the same time, I feel a certain obligation to not only myself and my family to make the money that I deserve, but for the game of baseball."

That you deserve?!  Because over a half million dollars won't put food on your table? (or in your dog's mouth?)  And you're demanding this money for the integrity of baseball?  Puh-leeze.

Let's just call bullshit  a spade a spade, okay Paps?  You're greedy.  You've caught this ugly trait (that spreads in locker rooms faster than an STD, apparently) just like many most of your cohorts in the realm of professional sports.

But, hey, who am I to call you out?  Despite all this, we the fans will nonetheless continue to tune in, to cheer you on, and to root for our team's success. 

We will do this cheering, though, from the comfort of our middle-class living rooms, as we lament the fact that it's impossible for most families to afford a day at the ballpark (unless they choose to sacrifice their grocery money for the week, that is.)

And you say you want, no.... need....how many millions?

Sincerely,

A Disgusted Mother of Little Boyz Who Idolize You

Our Boys in Suits

Yesterday many of the Red Sox visited the White House to show George Bush the World Series trophy. They were all dressed to the nines, even Curt Shilling. Not surprising, Bush made a gaffe and insulted first Manny and then Paperbaum. So not funny.

After the White House, the Sox visited Walter Reed Hospital to cheer up the many very wounded soldiers home from the middle east. They all talked about how moving it was to be able to talk to the soldiers and know that they were giving them something really special; time with their favorite players.

The Sox looked so exceptionally handsome I wanted to share some photos.

Tim Wakefield looking particularly spiffy in classic gray.

Julio Lugo in classic black.

Yummy Jason Varitek in a gorgeous charcoal very well fitting suit.

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)

Happy Happy Truck Day

Today is a big holiday in New England. It's Truck Day!

What? You've never heard of Truck Day? Horrors! What kind of a Red Sox fan are you?

Truck Day is the day that the large moving van carrying all the Red Sox equipment leaves Fenway and heads down to Ft. Meyers, Florida. It really doesn't seem like it should be much of a holiday, but we're talking Red Sox Nation here, and we're so ready for the season to begin, we celebrate a big giant moving van filled with sports equipment leaving town. Hard to believe, I know, but it's true. Fans gather outside Fenway to see the truck off, Wally and a bunch of other Red Sox employees ride on a open platform truck behind the moving van, and all the fans wave and cheer. We're that desperate for spring training. Don't believe me? Check this out.

Truck Day, for New Englanders, marks the first true sight of spring in the air. It means that next week the pitchers and catchers will report to Ft Meyers and start training. It also means that every newscast for the next couple of months, until opening day, will feature our sports reporters standing by palm trees wearing Hawaiian shirts. We hate them! It's not fair.

This year is unusual in that the Red Sox will be going to Japan in March to play some games against the Oakland Athletics on March 25 and 26 in Tokyo.  However, before that, we get to see the team in Ft Meyers starting next week!

Red Sox pitchers and catchers will report to Fort Myers by Saturday (Feb. 18), and will have their first workout on Sunday. The full squad is due to arrive on Feb. 22. The first full-squad workout will take place Feb. 23.

The Red Sox open their spring schedule on Thursday, March 2.

Go Sox!

Proof that with alcohol world peace can be achieved.

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!

The dog may eat your homework but he should never eat a World Series ball

Given my chosen profession as a dog trainer I love a good dog story in the news, but this one almost broke my heart.

ESPN is reporting a dog belonging to Jonathan Papelbon - the Boston Red Sox's World Series clinching closing pitcher - ate the baseball from the final out of the 2007 World Series.

Now, my dogs have eaten enough things in their day.  Just the other day they stole a few apples off the counter while I was out of the house.  My fault entirely, as I left them where they could be reached.  And my dogs have been known to steal Girl Scout cookies from a closed pantry.  But something as important as the ball thrown during the final out of the Sox's second Series win in four years? 

What the heck happened Jon?

"My dog ate it," Papelbon reported to the Hattiesburg American. "He plays with baseballs like they are his toys. His name is Boss. He jumped up one day on the counter and snatched it. He likes rawhide. He tore that thing to pieces."

"I'll keep what's left of it."

Well, yeah.  Of course you'll keep what's left of it, dog slobber or no dog slobber.  I almost licked the crumbs of those Girl Scout cookies that were left on my floor, I'm sure you'll keep the chewed hide of the ball.  But those cookies were left on a fairly high shelf in a pantry (that my dogs are clever enough to open).  What I'd really like to know is why the ball was on a counter where the dog could reach it.  Bad dog owner.  Bad, bad, bad...

So, to one Jonathan Papelbon - I'm offering my services as a trainer to you.  Given my history I certainly know what it's like to mess up and leave my dogs in a situation where they have no choice but to be naughty.  However, it only took one chewing of my shoes to train my dogs to never, ever touch Mommy's pretty things.  I can help you too.  And it won't even involve a shock collar... For the dog.  You might be a different story.  I mean, really.  Who's the "Boss" in your house?

Do you think the ball will be worth slightly less now?