Tagged: home team

Sorry, team

I have a confession. I dozed off in the 8th inning. Even with my family’s loud exclamations to punctuate that was going on in the game, I flat out fell asleep in the 8th inning. Just as well. I fell asleep thinking the Red Sox was going to will. How better way to be knocked out?

What can I say? I was dead exhausted. So much so that, for the first time in over fifteen years, I woke up not knowing where I last placed my glasses.

When the game ended, Dad shook me awake ever so gently. But it was the words he spoke into my ear that really roused me. “Go to bed, sweetie. Game’s over. Papelbon blew another save.” So that was what all that commotion that I was vaguely aware of was all about.

*sigh* well, trudge off the bed anyway. The Sox isn’t going to help me catch up on rest.

Home, again

.. watching the Red Sox on HD. And, traitorously wondering if I could pull off sneaking a peak to watch my usual Friday evening show of Num3ers.

Observations:

– Really really rooting for a demotion of Lugo
– Lester doesn’t seem to be varying his pitches.
– Youkilis doesn’t look natural stealing, but good for him!

Six win streak and counting

Red Sox: 7, Angels: 6

What an exciting game. Start ahead, fall behind, tie, get ahead, tie, break ahead. I felt like my mind was volleying back and forth like a tennis ball in a court.

Observations:
– NESN called the play of the day Youk’s homerun. While he tied the game after a four run deficit, I feel like the honors really belong to Ellsbury, closely followed by his partnership with Pedroia. Two homeruns, and the winning score. That’s almost half the Red Sox score.
– Lugo’s hitting is hot. I’m still holding his defensive weakness against him.
– Timlin didn’t really earn the win… no more than Oliver deserved the loss.
– Best facial expression: Weaver’s open-mouthed gape at Youkilis’ homerun.
– Oki wasn’t so hot tonight. I hope that’s a temporary thing.
– Would kinda have liked to see Pedroia holding a catcher’s mitt, just for schitz and giggles.
– Wished my parents’ ginormous plasma HDTV had captioning.
– It’s good to be able to watch a Sox game, though.

 

Happy Birthday, Tito.

Count down

Overnight bag check
Case of Virginia wine for Dad check
Bag of spices for Mum check
XM radio in car for the drive check
Munchies for the the drive check
Wallet check
Full tank of gas check

 

I’m set, and ready for the drive home! The thing of it is… being able to watch the Sox games on tv is such a treat for me. I’m going to lose XM access once I move so I *might* subscribe to MLB.com but at this point I have yet to decide if it’s worth the time. Until then, going home is a treat not only because it’s home but also I get to follow the Sox. Trips like this offer me opportunities to see the team’s brilliance on screen… such as Buchholz’s no-hitter last summer.  

Oh yeah… it’ll be good to see you, too, Mum and Dad. 🙂

Home, Sweet Home, Indeed

Well, I don’t need to repeat what can be read or heard in the news. Just my thoughts:

  • The Sox seem to be going through a seesaw on ups and downs, this being a huge up after being swept by Toronto.
  • Emotionally, this is a high not just for the team but also for the fans who get a chance to watch the team play as we saw them play last fall.
  • JD Drew is blazing hot… and continuing it. I hope this is a big year for him.
  • What a surprise to see Buckner make a return to Fenway! I missed the festivities, but was vastly amused to read the reactions of fellow bloggers, Dan and Steve.
  • I hope the team regains energy and momentum from today’s game and celebration. It still is a long season to come.
  • Tigers… ouch. Now, that team’s fans have got to be beginning to worry.
  • Personally, I’m enjoying this view, even from thousands of miles away:

Home, Sweet Home.

I’ve travelled enough and am old enough to appreciate the sense of coming home after each trip. I revel in the sense of relief, the familiarity, of walking back into my house, a place I created my own roots, my own life, and my own career.

I can’t say I’m on the road nearly as much as baseball players to understand their life. But I believe each of them has some sense of coming home when they go back to the team’s home stadium. Especially with fans like the Red Sox Nation.

I am glad. I’m glad they are home. They must be tired. All the globe-trotting, all the excitement. They hadn’t even been home since spring training started. And they haven’t even had the chance to really have their real opener. The opener that should have happened at home, in Fenway. Where the city awaits to welcome them home with open arms and loud cheers.

So here’s to a new start to the 2008 season. Welcome home, Red Sox. Fenway and your fans await to give you the proper, familiar home, sweet home. We’ve missed you.

Alma mater vs Hometown loyalty

Aside from life catching up, there simply has not been much Red Sox news that has interested me as of late. So I’ll return to sharing more inexplicable moments of this fan’s being a fan.

Recently, in an email from my father:

J,
Do you know that the Yankees new manager, Joe Girardi, is a Northwestern graduate with the engineering degree. I don’t mind you cheer Yankees a little bit because of that.
Love,
dad

An immediate email that my brother fired back in reply, so fast my computer is still in the process of opening the original message:

J,
I mind if you cheer for the yankees. Please don’t.

The funny thing is my brother is never polite to me. “Please don’t”??? Either very out of character or desperate. Or both.

Really, this issue is a no brainer. I can’t believe my own father, who taught me to be a die hard fan, even broached the topic. Besides, if I remember my facts, he majored in imaginary engineering. The rest of us had to tough out the hardcore stuff. OK, yes, you’re right. It’s just another excuse to pile on.

However, having Loretta on second last year made watching the game fun, although more of the entertainment came from the family. Every single time I was home to watch a game, and every single time Loretta popped up on the tv screen, Dad would gleefully shout “LORETTA!!” or “NORTHWESTERN” and elbow me or aim a playful shoulder punch. Even if it meant several times each inning for all nine innings. Good thing I don’t live at home. Dad still can pack a punch and lose track of how much power he’s putting when he gets super fired up.