Friday, September 12, 2003
SOX FAN ON THE LEFT COAST
The Sox are making a push for the playoffs and I am stuck on the west coast of New England. Please do not misunderstand me. I like Burlington, especially now in the summer and fall. It is a charming little city in the most picturesque setting one could imagine snuggled between the Green Mountains and the once “Great” Lake Champlain with New York’s highest peaks to the west. But it is just not the same as living in the Hub of Red Sox Nation when fall games are meaningful.
I do not talk with various co-workers about Little’s managing of the bullpen.
I do not speculate with my supervisor at lunch over Nixon’s return date.
I do not converse with a fellow bar fly about Merloni’s ability to crush LHP.
I do not spark up conversation on the train about Nomar’s slump at the plate.
Vermonters are Sox fans. They are just not consumed by the possibility of witnessing an event that others have waited a lifetime for. Entire bars on Church Street will not be chanting “Let’s Go Red Sox”. I won’t be engaging in a conversation about Pedro’s shoulder on the bus ride to work. I won’t be using “cowboy up” in normal conversation. It is, of course, healthier. But I do miss the sense of community that only other neurotic Sox fans can form.
The Sox are making a push for the playoffs and I am stuck on the west coast of New England. Please do not misunderstand me. I like Burlington, especially now in the summer and fall. It is a charming little city in the most picturesque setting one could imagine snuggled between the Green Mountains and the once “Great” Lake Champlain with New York’s highest peaks to the west. But it is just not the same as living in the Hub of Red Sox Nation when fall games are meaningful.
I do not talk with various co-workers about Little’s managing of the bullpen.
I do not speculate with my supervisor at lunch over Nixon’s return date.
I do not converse with a fellow bar fly about Merloni’s ability to crush LHP.
I do not spark up conversation on the train about Nomar’s slump at the plate.
Vermonters are Sox fans. They are just not consumed by the possibility of witnessing an event that others have waited a lifetime for. Entire bars on Church Street will not be chanting “Let’s Go Red Sox”. I won’t be engaging in a conversation about Pedro’s shoulder on the bus ride to work. I won’t be using “cowboy up” in normal conversation. It is, of course, healthier. But I do miss the sense of community that only other neurotic Sox fans can form.
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Thank you - Red Sox!
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