Cheering on that other Nation

Okay, this post serves two purposes. To see if I can upload photographs to the blog, and to have a place to plop some of the zillions of photos of the Boston Red Sox that I've downloaded over time.

I need some irrelevancy right about now, an escape from the horror of politics, and baseball used to be my solace. When my youth was rudely disrupted by the New York baseball Giants being wrenched away from the city, I eventually tried to transfer my loyalty, first to the Yankees, then to the Mets, and then again to the Yankees. But my heart was never in it.

Fast-forward to the 1970s, when a bunch of us, who had gone camping in Vermont, ended our trip by attending a three-game Boston-Yankees series at Fenway Park. The excitement was like nothing we had ever experienced, especially when the Red Sox won the third game, which put them in first place. Leaving that final game was exhilarating, as the chant, "We're Number One!," was shouted far and wide, not only by people in the streets, but also by those hanging out of windows. Those games turned out to be the highlight of what had been a disappointing rainy week of camping, and we didn't even mind that the Yankees lost.

For many years thereafter, I intermittently paid attention to post-season activity, like Pennants and World Series, but not too deeply. Then about four or five years ago, I absentmindedly began to follow the Red Sox, becoming familiar with the roster, catching the rare game that was shown on broadcast television, when they played the Yankees. And I found myself being drawn into Red Sox Nation. I knew I was lost when it became clear that I could not go to bed at night without learning the outcome of that day's game -- and when I found myself worrying over injuries, and caught up in wondering, "Just what the heck does Manny want?!"

So, as they take on California's formidable Angels, here's wishing the Red Sox the same kind of luck they had last year. And now I will see if I can upload those photos.