I was thinking about ways to kick off a dialogue between anyone who may happen to see this article on this semi-defunct web site. I thought about telling “get off my lawn” tales of how defensive people would be about their home turf, when it was a Yankees game thread or a Sox game thread back in the day, and then how it would become a place where we realized we were all baseball fans, regardless of how much we thought the $team sucked. I thought about when we would have Haiku battles. I thought about how incredibly intense it was in 2001, where I saw the greatest and most triumphant/tragic moments in baseball in my lifetime, or maybe it was 2004.
Cubbies, you had over 100 years to get it right, you are late to the party. I called Houston out as cheaters, but it wasn’t headline news. It’s another great baseball story, and since I have a vintage Astros jersey, I can change colors like a squid. Cheaters. Everybody gets a trophy.
I invite you to visit the archives at YFSF, and I strongly recommend that you start by visiting the Top 50 Sox Seasons. After that, let’s wait until we get to hear the thump of the glove and the crack of the bat. This pause won’t last forever.
3 replies on “War Stories”
Ah, the thump of the glove, the crack of the bat. Sounds of “normal” at a premium these days. Mid-March is my time to head over to Cooperstown with the kids to get a pre-season immersion in the history and feel of the game. Not this year.
Oh, and it was definitely 2004.
Still waiting, Attack Gerbil. It may yet be long wait, but when it ends…
War story. We yfsf folk (whoever we are at this point) know about the July, 2004 to-do that started after A-Rod was HBP by Arroyo with the Sox trailing early. I wish I had been there, but I wasn’t. I do have a pretty good story, though. After the Sox went down limply in the bottom of the second with Arroyo getting knocked around, it wasn’t a good feeling at my house. But then I got a call from the son of a friend who happened to be sitting near the Pesky Pole that day. I asked him how it was going and he told me the Sox looked lost, no fire. And then he said, and I swear he said it, “what this game needs is a good brawl.” I’ll never forget it or that game. Just a regular season rivalry game with one rival holding a BIG lead in the standings and on the scoreboard. That game always reminds me of some of the beauties of baseball – how the game can turn on a pitch, or a hard slide or an out or a rookie doing something special, a pitcher digging deep to out-perform his card or an infinite number of other possibilities. How can you not love a game that gives you that?
Anyway, baseball may suffer a lost season or a season so strange it becomes hard to get into it (empty stadium? players held hostage?). For me, I have my plan – let us loose to travel a bit and visit places, and I’ll be in Cooperstown before you know it, refueling for whenever the game returns.
I’m getting interested in baseball again, mostly because it is still the Greatest Game Ever Invented, and after the interminable layoff, I really don’t know anyone. It’s like I have amnesia. Who is that guy batting who was born when I was getting ready for my first divorce? Why did they tear down Yankee Stadium and build another one across the street, I mean if you have something called “Monument Park”, how the f*** can you move it? I don’t yell at kids to get off my lawn, because I can’t afford to water the grass so it’s flammable like most of the southwest United States. But I still love the sound of a sharp fastball high and tight. For those few moments, when it’s a pitcher and a hitter, working through years and years of practice and in-game experience, just to face each other, nothing is better.