Bleached Sox

All empires inevitably, must fall….

It happened to Alexander the Great, it happened to the Greeks, it happened to the Romans, it’s happened to countless other dynasties and kingdoms. Hell, it’s even happened to the Yankees.

It is now Boston’s turn to fall.

Historically, most empires fall because their leader is inept, or diabolical or just plain bats-hi*t crazy.  It is different here in Boston. The man at the helm was known as a players-coach, loyal to the end. A man of high baseball IQ, demanding, yet fair. During his rookie season, Dustin Pedroia hit under the “Mendoza” line (under .200) for the first two months, as the starting second basemen for the Sox. Francona stuck with him, and he ended up winning the rookie of the year. The next year, he won the MVP. When Papi started off and the media and fans wanted him gone, Francona stuck with him. Ortiz had a decent 2010, and this year ended with 29 home runs 96 RBI and a .304 batting average.

The demise of the Red Sox does not lie on Tito’s shoulders. It lies on something much more intangible. Specifically, it lies on the introduction of players that do not mesh with the fabric of the Boston Red Sox.  When you think of recent Yankees, you think of Bernie Williams, and Jeter, and Posada and Pettite, guys that ooze Yankee pinstripes. When I think of recent Red Sox players, I think of Damon (he was never a Yankee), Schilling, Varitek, Lowell, Pedro, in some cases guys that truly “bled” Red Sox.  Crawford and Lackey are no Red Sox players. Neither is Adrian Gonzalez.

Previous to the 2010 campaign, the Red Sox were known for winning with players not of all-star luster. In 2004, they coined themselves the “idiots”, and well so, as their cast included the Damons and Millars of the world. A cast of outcasts, outlaws and in some cases bat-sh*t crazy players such as one Manny Ramirez.  What separates those guys from this year’s team, is grit and guts. This year’s campaign sounds like an all-star line up – Ellsbury, Pedroia, Youkilis, Gonzalez, Ortiz and so on…and although some of them have won rings here in Boston, they are missing many others. The chemistry is unhinged, unbalanced, impaired. Guys like Mike Lowell are no longer around. Guys like Trot Nixon and Dave Roberts and Alan Embree and Mike Timlin and Orlando Cabrera, are no longer here. 2007 contributors like Eric Hinske and Bobby Kielty and Doug Mirabelli – gone….

Theo Epstein has done a wonderful job in bringing the right guys together to win championships. That is no longer the case. The Red Sox inability to not make much noise since 2007 is due to the current absence of players such as those from 2004 and 2007. Hell, I’ll take John Valentin and Brian Daubach and Troy O’Leary from back in the 90’s! Theo or whoever the GM may be, needs to get back to those roots. Boston is not a town that is known for glamorous baseball. It needs the Damons and the Millars of the world. That is why we won in 2004. That is why we won in 2007

Remember in Rocky III when Rocky gets beat up by Mr. T’s character (Clubber Lang…?)? Rocky got used to training in shiny gyms and clean facilities. Rocky finally comes around when he goes back to his roots, dingy gyms, jogging in the streets of Philadelphia – stays hungry. You don’t take a sewer rat and bleach him with Clorox.

Let’s hope the Red Sox can get dirty once again in the near future. After all, isn’t their theme song “Dirty Water”….?

All empires inevitably fall….

Destination: Somewhere Only We Know

Ever dreamed of just getting in a car and driving somewhere, anywhere but here, for an extended period of time...? I bet you have. And I bet you have also wondered who to take with you in such a trip. After all, it is not an easy decision to make. Said person must be one of intestinal fortitude, one that can laugh at your jokes on anything from pigs to clowns to drunks staggering out of bars, hell, even family members. Said person must be one that sees the proverbial "big picture". After all, a trip such as this deserves attention to this type of detail. You must ask yourself questions like, will this person be ok if I have to borrow their deodorant? Will this person be ok if I light their underwear on fire while they sleep...? Will this person be totally ok with me driving in my briefs with one foot out the window...? I know what you are thinking...who does these things..? Well, it just so happens that such are the only kind of people that can make these kind of trips. The kind that spell out things such as bar fights, and dream escapes; epic, legendary travels that constitute of wicked things and even crazier stunts.

It isn't healthy, and it's probably not recommended by the FDA, or religious cult groups in middle-America - but it's there for the taking, the idea of travelling out of state, out of mind, for days on end, sleeping in your car, bathing in a pond (or someone's shower if they leave the window open...).

Bring on the rock and the blues and the myriad of delicious but corrosive items such as sausages, and hot dogs and burritos and BBQ sauce lathered wings. It's time to make some of our own magic out there under God's blue sky. After all, we either get busy living, or get busy dying.

Road trip 2012 baby!

Shadows and Footsteps

I’ve always found it fascinating when life ‘s path puts you up close and personal with others’ struggles and desperations , in ways you never thought could happen.
Case in point, I spoke to an older gentleman yesterday during a cookout – a man whom I had previously been introduced to. All I knew of him was that he was seeing the mother of a friend of mine on a semi-regular basis.

As typical men do when faced with cool end of summer breezes, we chatted amidst the noise from the crowd, and we exchanged your usual run of the mill questions; how many children, where do you live, where are you from, and so on. This was one of those times where his answers to those questions became a stage upon themselves; a canvas of emotions subtlety registering grief and loneliness.

Since I learned that he was from Greece, I asked him if he ever went back and if he had family there. With his head down and his eyes looking at the grass, he responded by saying that he still had some cousins and aunts there, but that his wife’s family still lived there, and that ever since she passed away, he made it a point to stay in touch. It wasn’t the response as much as the overwhelming feeling of grief felt in the air, amidst the breeze.

Perhaps it was a question too close to his heart, this man I barely knew from a crab apple on a nearby tree. But the force of that emotion nearly knocked me to the ground. This soft-spoken man from Greece conveyed unexpected emotions to a complete stranger, as if looking for a sympathetic ear.

As the questions continued, he spoke of his children and where they lived. I may never forget the way he delivered a response to my final question. “Where do you live?” I asked.. “I live in Methuen……..alone…” It was in this answer as he looked towards uncertain skies, that I then understood the calamity in his soul. And I realized I knew everything I needed to know about this man in the mere minutes we spoke. Loneliness. A loving wife now deceased. A life of waking up to no one in the room, but his own shadow and footsteps. A man who sought for something to fill the void.

I may never know why this struck me as it did; one of those inexplicable events perhaps. We are all seekers in one way or another.

As I spotted him later in the day, I saw him caress my friend’s mother, lovingly. Long live romance. May love find him once again.