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Boston Globe:
Sox-Yanks pitching matchups > Sox do it again > Wake Comments
were doctored > Robinson's legacy set in stone > Thumbs |
Boston Herald:
'Tek good in pinch > Heckuva first game > Cora corralled >
Schilling offers a far-from-Curt response > Chamberlain to miss
Sox |
ProJo:
Varitek's 9th inning homer fuels comeback > Ailing Cora could be
put on the DL > Schilling insists: I won't play for Yankees >
Wrapup |
Hartford Courant:
Farnsworth comes up big in Yankees win > ESPN settles with
Reynolds > Phillies beat Astros > Tigers rally past Twins |
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It's Red Sox vs. YankeeZZZzzzzz: Rivalry's Buzz Takes a Beating
38Pitches: 'Umm, no.' | Wilbur: Space Shot | Yankee Swap
Video: Big Papi Explains Reason for Hitting Woes
Feb 5, 2002:
Date: Tuesday, February 5, 2002
Subject: Absolute Joy
Today marked the second morning I have awakened to this unfamiliar
feeling. It is peaceful, relaxed, no anxiety about matchups, no knot in
my stomach at the prospect of paradise snatched away. It is also rather
weird.
One of
my longstanding complaints about being a Boston sports fan has been that the
joy never seems to measure up to the pain in terms of absolute value.
Sure, the Celtics beat the Rockets in '81 and '86, but they were supposed to.
And yes, it was incredible when we beat the Lakers in Game 7 in '84, but the
game was in the Garden where we never lost, except, of course in '85 and '87
when we bowed to the Lakers (see above: pain). The joy of Hendu and Oil
Can and Rocket in Games 5, 6 and 7 of the '86 ALCS was cruelly eradicated by
subsequent events, overwhelming in their pain quotient.
But
this... this is Bobby Thomson, only better. This is Bobby Thomson
chasing home Hartung and Lockman with his game-winning blast in the seventh
game of the World Series. Remember, the Giants lost the '51 Series to
who else. But Adam Vinatieri's blast won the whole damned thing.
The joy is unmuted.
I've
never gotten over the '86 Series. So it's only fair that I never get
over this either.
Feb 4, 2002:
Date: Monday, February 4, 2002
Subject: Pressure Cooker; Pressure Kicker
Imagine an event so sweet that even Terry Bradshaw couldn't
ruin it by butchering A Hard Day's Night with Paul McCartney, which somone
should have told Terry was, after all, a John Lennon song.
I watched the game at an undisclosed location, in sweet
solitude, locked in, tracking every excruciating tick with no distractions, no
finger-waving Rams fans (how could there be any real ones?), no
question-asking broads, no unsolicited consolation, no half-sincere words of
encouragement. Just me and the Pats (New England and Summerall, in what has
to be one of the more awkward on-air farewells.)
So many great moments to relive forever... like, damn Vinatieri
tagged that friggin' ball. Did you see how quickly it got up? I don't think
I've ever seen a truer kick, dead solid perfect in the biggest pressure cooker
in football history.
Life is sweet...
Kev
Still unsure how to behave with an unbroken heart
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