The Red Sox have clinched their play off berth. All the old feelings are starting to rise to the surface again. I'm anxious to know our Division Series opponent. Who'll pitch third? (We know Schilling and Martinez are one and two, but what about Lowe, or Arroyo, or Wakefield?) Are the hitters going to stay hot? Is anybody going to cowboy up? Is Francona ("Tito") up to the challenge of playoff ball? Is the Garciaparra trade going to bite us in the ass (not if Chicago keeps losing)?
All I have is questions. But in a few days it will be October, and I'm going to get some answers, whether I like them or not.
Monday, September 20, 2004
Every night, since around mid-August I've been writing pages and pages towards a novel about a retiring pro athlete. What a strange voyage this has become! The fact that I haven't let up says something to me. I think it says "I'm crazy." In fact, I actually wrote about 100 manuscript pages (double-spaced, one inch margins), then scrapped it because it felt too boring. I've sometimes wondered in this space whether I could "keep up" a writing schedule. Well, it appears that I can.
Thursday, September 9, 2004
It's weird to me, watching pro football on a humid day in September. Patriots 3, Colts 10 in the second quarter. I know there are people who have been starving for this sports day since the dizzy hours of Superbowl XXXVIII. Me? I'm starting to play closer attention to the Red Sox.