I actually cried the next morning.    But, of course, I wasn't really crying for the "Boys"  .. . .well, maybe a few were for them, but of course, I was crying for my dead father and the memory of my childhood and being at college (BU) walking by this gorgeous, mythical ball park that pops up in the middle of a busy section of a large city, and  recollections of going with my boyfriend (husband now) to Fenway with tickets my Dad gave us and etc. etc. etc.  Everything I left behind when I moved to Florida.  And the Red Sox always bring these strong emotions out in me when they come close.  It never fails.  And I have a feeling that I'm not totally unique in this regard so maybe they deserve their obscene salaries after all.  Field of Dreams.  I wonder, though, if Eliot had any similar catalyst regarding America when he deserted this country for England.  As for this World Series between the NY Yankees and the Florida Marlins, I could care less.

You can check out any time you like
But you can never leave

     Fred Mercury