It has been a so-so month for the Sox (it’s getting better). However, for me and the Sox, it has been a great month. A few years ago, I self-imposed a limit on TV time—five hours a week and this is mostly reserved for Lost, Heroes, and Charlie Rose. However, who needs TV when you have WKRO’s Red Sox game audio? Cold espresso and WKRO games—my strongest addictions. 

The laptop goes up to the studio or out back and I listen to games while working on the latest Wildlands’ project. Sometimes I get so into the game, I jump up and cheer. I’m sure the neighbors think I’m nuts. In fact, I know one of them thinks I’m the quirkest female he’s ever met. Hahahaha.

There is a magical element sitting outside, listening to a game. I smile when I hear the announcer say things like “wicked hard hop.” Last week, the Sox hit the road and came out to Oakland for a four game series and then headed onto Arizona for some inter-league play. I hadn’t seen the Sox play for several years—the last was game 7 at Yank stadium in 2003. It’s been a few more years beyond that for a game day at Fenway. And so, when the opportunity came up to see the Sox play in Oakland, I snapped up the opportunity. Since I haven’t mastered the art of planning, it was a spontaneous effort that cost me many, many pennies. Damn.

At the series opener, my friend and I enjoyed the view 28 rows back from home plate, edged over slightly onto the Sox side. We had As fans to our left and Sox fans to our right. To my immediate right, I had two southie brothers and their girlfriends. Behind me, to my right, there was a loud-mouth east coast NYer Sox fan who kept the commentary going throughout the game. They all made me laugh. I got a beer spilled on me going into the 7th inning by a drunk non-Sox fan. That could have been bad, but I handled it with a bit of charm. The southies next to me said they were glad I took care of it because they thought they “were going to have to kick his ass.” hahahahha. Ah, the connection Red Sox love fosters. The game went 11 innings and it was a classic game loss aside. There was an overzealous play at the plate by the As’ catcher, Kendell, and I was pleased to see him get knocked on the head by a pop foul during the series closer. I made so much noise that night, I woke up the next morning (and for the next two days) with a raspy, throaty voice that often cracked.

The next two games produced wins for Oakland. After Tuesday night’s game, I didn’t want to hear the words “double play” for a long, long time. Christ. I listened to those games outside on the patio and worked on the new Aran.

For the series closer, I took my boss (a former Boston resident) to the game. Our seats were awesum— 8 rows off the Sox bullpen. We watched Schilling and Varitek warm up (emphasis here upon the team captain. Yum). I was a bit nervous about watching Schilling pitch considering he’s been a bit erratic this season. I like Curt Schilling (see Birthday Wishes and Red Sox Baseball post) and didn’t know that I was going to see a near no-no game! It was a glorious day—sunshine and a cool breeze coming through the ballpark. A beer, a dawg, and endless blue skies. Damn near heaven. Though, I’d prefer my version of heaven not to be a concrete monster of a park. I came home with sunburn and  I took better notes on that game and those can be read over on my friend Rob’s recap page ( I sent him a few pics I took during the game with the treo.

On a side note, I don’t chitchat stats. I keep an eye on them, but I don’t find them all that interesting in the daily grind. I leave stats’ recaps to my guy friends who may have a somewhat genetically predisposed inclination for stats retention and spewing.  However, if we’re at a game together and you don’t like something I said (this goes out to a specific As fan from Friday’s game), don’t start in on me with stats just because your team’s bats aren’t producing runs, k? I’m going to laugh at you.

The As fans were not as friendly as Monday night—their attitude continued on a downward slope after the first inning. In the ninth inning, I got chills when I realized everyone in the Sox bullpen and dugout as well as the Sox fans were standing—seemingly all holding our breathes through each pitch. After the game, I drove home, sunburned, hoarse, and most importantly, in love with baseball and of course, the Red Sox.

Last night, I worked on the new Aran pullover and listened to the Rockies’ game. Good stuff. I am still catching up to the Arizona games—one left to go. And yes, I know how they turned out, but that’s not the point. 

There are rumblings of the Yanks coming back—rubbish. It could happen, sure. I see the Yankees in the same light as I do Barry Bonds. I don’t care what achievements Bonds has or may achieve in his career—he’s a fraud.

The Red Sox play as a team—win or lose. For me, every baseball season in RedSox Nation is a beautiful, wonderful thing. Sure, I’m hoping the Sox do keep their standing at the top of the AL East, but if they don’t, I’ll love ’em anyway. Why? Because being a Sox fan, you learn to have faith, kick back and believe, through the droughts and into the windfalls. To be a RedSox fan, you have got to have heart—and a strong heart at that. I will remain faithful not because I think they are going to pull “it” off this season, but because of all the seasons they’ve already given me.

And so, I look forward to the next game— kicked back in an Adirondack chair, legs up, knitting, sucking down iced Americanos, listening to the best game ever played by the best club ever to play the game…


The WKRO just said it has been a “rough sixth.” A rough sixth? I’d say it sucked. I’m out back and with all the cringing, I’m not getting much done on the Aran. Oh, come on Snyder…

Postscript 2: I feel like Charlie Brown when Lucy pulls the football out from him as he’s mid-kick. On my back, looking up at the sky—ugh.