2013년 10월 23일 수요일

Syble Townsel's blog ::...as long as John Kerry and Michael Dukakis keep living there. I give a lot of credit to the Philadelphia...it. He even took his fight to the radio this weekend, which was a brilliant move...






Syble Townsel's blog ::...as long as John Kerry and Michael Dukakis keep living there. I give a lot of credit to the Philadelphia...it. He even took his fight to the radio this weekend, which was a brilliant move...










"Hope               springs               eternal               in               the               human               breast;               man               never               is,               but               always               to               be               blest."               -               Alexander               Pope               (1688-1744)               I               think               it's               a               privilege               to               live               in               New               England;               I               love               the               lifestyle               here.

To               me,               there's               nothing               more               beautiful               than               Maine's               beautiful               and               diverse               four               seasons               .

(For               those               unfamiliar               with               New               England               and               its               seasons               of               contrast,               may               I               introduce               you               to,               in               no               particular               order,               the               ice               fishin'season,               the               mud               season,               the               deer               huntin'season,               and               the               season               of               hope               and               despair               for               Red               Sox               fans.)
               As               an               unabashed,               die-hard               baseball               fan,               I               live               a               life               of               hope...

that               someday,               somehow,               my               team               -               the               Boston               Red               Sox               -               will               once               again               win               the               World               Series.
               Probably               not               this               year,               though.

As               of               this               writing,               the               2010               major               league               baseball               season               is               only               two               weeks               old.

My               beloved               Crimson               Hose,               that               storied               team               that               broke               an               86-year               old               curse               when               it               won               the               2004               World               Series,               and               then               followed               up               by               winning               another               world               championship               three               years               later,               is               currently               dwelling               near               the               bottom               of               the               American               League               East.

Oops...

just               got               an               e-mail...

they               lost               again               today,               Patriots               Day               2010.
               All               this               reminds               me               of               days               and               baseball               seasons               long               past,               when               New               England's               favorite               sports               franchise...

well...

stunk.
               Hearken               back               with               me               now               to               another               less               cheerful               time               -               before               2004,               and               the               magical               Red               Sox               comeback               against               the               Yankees               in               the               American               League               Championship               Series;               before               the               sweep               of               the               St.

Louis               Cardinals               in               the               World               Series               -               all-l-l               the               way               back               to               2001.

At               the               end               of               this,               particular               dreary               baseball               season,               my               beloved               Crimson               Hose,               so               filled               with               the               promise               of               a               championship               season               in               April,               once               again               "tanked"               at               mid-season.

Only               two               games               behind               their               despised               rivals,               the               New               York               Yankees,               at               mid-season,               they               ended               up               finishing               thirteen               and               one-half               games               behind               the               Bronx               Bombers               in               the               American               League               East               standings.

Oh,               well...

to               paraphrase               Scarlett               O'Hara:               next               year               is               another               day!!
               During               this               season               of               complete               mediocrity               my               then               12-year               old               son               and               I               twice               had               the               opportunity               to               visit               Fenway               Park,               home               of               the               Red               Sox.

On               our               second               visit,               on               August               4th,               we               watched...

not               a               game...

but               a               tropical               wave               pass               through.

I               guess               we               shoulda               figured               was               a               harbinger               of               things               to               come.
               Friday,               August               4th:               11:47               a.m.:               My               son               and               I               are               running               very               late!!!

It's               normally               a               three               and               a               half               hour               drive               from               our               home               in               mid-coast               Maine               to               Boston.

But               we               have               to               contend               with               extremely               heavy               tourist               traffic               along               US               Route               1.

And               we're               leaving               late               to               boot!

Neither               one               of               seems               to               be               able               to               get               our               stuff               together.

Because               we're               running               late,               and               we're               in               a               big               hurry,               we               forget               things.

My               son               almost               forgets               his               baseball               glove.

I               nearly               forget               to               take               my               daily               dose               of               high               blood               pressure               medication.

Luckily,               we               remember               these               things               in               the               nick               of               time...

just               as               we're               dashing               out               the               door.
               Our               trip               south               is               relatively               uneventful.

Along               our               route,               we               experience               three               major               traffic               jams:               at               Wiscasset,               Maine;               at               the               New               Hampshire               Turnpike               toll               booth;               and               at               Boston's               infamous               "Big               Dig."               These               delays               add               over               an               hour               to               our               journey.

The               weather               this               day               is               unbearably               hot               and               humid.

Local               radio               and               TV               stations               are               predicting               strong               thunderstorms               later               in               the               evening.
               As               we               sit               in               bumper-to-bumper               traffic,               waiting               with               growing               impatience               to               get               through               Boston's               notorious               "Big               Dig,"               we               notice               that               the               sky               has               suddenly               gone               from               a               milky               cyan               to               an               angry               and               foreboding               slate               gray.

Looks               like               we               may               just               get               those               "boomers"               after               all!
               We               get               to               Fenway               Park               at               5:30               p.m.,               about               90               minutes               before               game               time.

We               know               from               experience               that               this               is               the               best               time               to               get               to               the               ol'               ball               yard,               because               that's               when               the               gates               open.

It's               much               easier               to               get               in               and               find               our               seats,               since               we               don't               have               to               fight               our               way               through               mobs               of               fans.
               After               showing               our               tickets               and               going               through               the               turnstiles,               we               walk               for               what               seems               like               nearly               a               mile               through               what               can               only               be               described               as               a               labyrinthine               catacomb               of               food               vendors               and               souvenir               hawkers.

Our               seats               are               in               Section               97,               right               near               the               right               field               foul               pole               (commonly               known               to               Red               Sox               fans               as               Pesky's               Pole.)               We               finally               spy               the               sign               directing               us               to               "Sections               94-101."               We               walk               up               the               long               gangway               and               into               the               stadium.
               My               son               and               I               begin               our               search               for               our               seats.

Our               tickets               are               marked               for               "Row               VV,               Seats               14               and               15."               The               ticket               is               printed               in               such               a               manner               that               the               "double-V"               looks               to               me               more               like               letter               "W."               For               ten               minutes,               we               search               in               vain               for               row               W               in               Section               97.

(It               doesn't               exist;               for               some               strange               reason,               the               rows               jump               from               "K"               to               "AA.")               There's               not               an               usher               in               sight               to               assist               us.
               All               the               while               we're               looking               for               our               seats,               two               matters               of               increasing               urgency               are               beginning               to               rear               their               ugly               heads.

The               sky               is               getting               increasingly               black               as               that               threat               of               thunderstorms               becomes               more               apparent.;               and               the               diuretic               I               take               for               my               high               blood               pressure               has               begun               its               work               on               my               kidneys               in               earnest!!
               Ohhh-boy-y-y!!

I               gotta               pee,               and               I               mean               right               now!!!

We               finally               discover               our               seats               -               28               rows               up               from               where               we               entered.

Luckily,               "Row               VV"               is               located               under               the               roof               of               the               grandstand.

We               plant               our               butts               in               the               narrow,               hard               seats.

The               seats               are               so               close               together               that               we               feel               like               we're               almost               sitting               in               the               laps               of               the               fans               seated               next               to               us.

Oh               well...if               it               does               rain,               we               should               stay               dry!
               But               right               now...

first               things               first!!

Now               I               gotta               descend               those               28               rows               and               find               the               men's               room.

No               small               feat               with               the               ballpark               rapidly               filling.

Everyone               else               is               going               up,               and               I'm               comin'               down!
               Now               it's               getting               close               to               game               time.

The               sky               remains               an               ominous               slate               gray,               the               air               has               cooled               rapidly,               and               the               wind               has               picked               up.

Right               on               cue,               the               announcement               comes               over               the               PA               system:               "Ladies               and               gentlemen,               due               to               the               possibility               of               severe               thunderstorms               in               the               local               area,               the               start               time               for               tonight's               game               is               being               delayed..."
               Then...

right               on               cue...

the               sudden               sharp               report               of               thunder,               followed               by               those               great               big               raindrops               that's               always               the               harbinger               of               a               "boomer."               And               suddenly,               the               skies               open               up,               and               we               are               awash               in               a               rainstorm               of               monsoon-like               proportions...
               ...Ever               notice               how               the               sight               and               sound               of               rain               always               seems               to               activate               the               ol'               bladder?

Yup...

you               guessed               it...

right               at               the               height               of               this               downpour,               I               find               myself               faced               with               another               diuretic               emergency.

Problem               is...

as               soon               as               it               starts               raining,               everyone               with               seats               not               under               cover               elects               to               come               up               under               the               grandstand               roof!

Now               my               son               and               I               are               blocked               in               by               an               immense               throng               of               soaking               wet,               smelly               spectators!
               We               all               stand               and               stare               at               right               field,               as               it               fills               with               water.

In               ten               minutes,               the               grass               completely               disappears.

The               rain               is               coming               down               so               hard               that               we               can't               even               see               the               "Green               Monstah!"               And               now               the               wind               has               shifted               and               is               blowing               the               rain               directly               in               our               faces.

And               a               great               big               huge               leak               in               the               roof               is               unceremoniously               dumping               a               stream               of               water               on...

you               guessed               it!!

Section               97,               Row               VV,               Seats               11,               12,               13,               14               and               15.

The               thunderstorm               is               passing               directly               overhead.

A               sudden               flash               of               light               and               deafening               crack               testify               to               a               lightning               strike               on               or               very               near               Fenway               Park.

During               this               celestial               fireworks               display,               I               once               again               thread               my               way               to               the               men's               room               and               back               again...
               Oh,               what               fun!
               The               "toad               strangler"               that               began               at               precisely               6:02               p.m.

continues               unabated               for               over               90               minutes.

For               some               reason,               the               powers-that-be               in               the               ballpark               decide               to               wait               over               an               hour               -               until               precisely               7:09               p.m...

before               canceling               the               game.

By               then,               right               field               is               a               lake;               center               field               has               several               small               ponds               scattered               about;               the               warning               track               near               Pesky's               Pole               is               a               miry               bog;               and               33,074               faithful               members               of               Red               Sox               Nation,               unable               to               exit               the               ballpark               because               of               the               continuing               danger               of               lightning               strikes,               are               soaked               to               the               skin,               pressed               together               in               any               location               where               they               can               get               out               of               the               rain.
               Finally,               mercifully,               the               rain               lets               up               enough               for               people               to               begin               departing.

We               leave               the               ballpark               at               7:54               p.m.,               and               begin               our               trek               home,               without               ever               seeing               our               beloved               Red               Sox               take               the               field.
               The               aftermath               of               this               most               unpleasant               experience               at               Fenway               Park:               three               days               later               we               return               for               the               make-up               game.

This               time,               we               get               seats               in               the               grandstand               right               behind               the               first               base               dugout.

We're               still               27               rows               up;               seats               are               still               hard               as               nails,               dreadfully               uncomfortable               and               too               close               together.

The               rest               rooms               still               seem               like               they're               a               mile               away.

And               the               food               is               just               as               expensive               -               and               bad               -               as               ever.
               But,               it's               a               clear               sunny               day,               everyone               seems               in               a               festive               mood.

Best               of               all,               the               Red               Sox               win!!

Maybe,               just               maybe,               this               is               gonna               be               the               year               after               all...




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