Barking at shovels

There was this baseball game

I just got back from the Burren, where I went on the theory that the whole point of something like this is to watch it in the middle of as many people as possible. Game Four of the 2004 World Series -- it doesn't sound right. Since when do the Red Sox win anything in less than seven games?

It was nuts.

It started at the end of the eighth inning, which seemed bold for Sox fans, but people couldn't help themselves. Through the ninth, every St Louis strike, every out, was met with louder and louder reactions, and after the final one it took five minutes at least before people slowed their screaming enough to hear the person standing next to you. I don't think I've ever been in a happier room. There must be a couple thousand people just in Davis Sq, wandering around cheering at random, high-fiving strangers and pointing at the moon. The eclipse floated overhead like a god-for-truth sign of Divine favour.

More people were flowing in as I left, I think faster than people are going home. Cars are cruising around honking rhythmically, and the cops have closed off Elm St. Every third person is on a cell phone, either crouched over with it jammed against one ear and a finger in the other, or with it held up just to hear the noise. I can't figure out if having a winning sports team actually means any damned thing at all, but I can't stop grinning.

It's a good night to be a Bostonian.

Permalink | Commentary | Comments (0)