If there was any doubt that summer was over it ended five minutes ago. This is a beautiful time of year in New England, with all the foliage and brouhaha, but it not without it's sadness:
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can. This is my substitute for pistol and ball. With a philosophical flourish Cato throws himself upon his sword; I quietly take to the ship. There is nothing surprising in this. If they but knew it, almost all men in their degree, some time or other, cherish very nearly the same feelings towards the ocean with me.
I hear you Ishmael, I'll wait until after Christmas and I'll find some blue water to play in.
4 comments:
I promise -- I didn't watch the game -- I checked the score in the 2nd -- that's it!
Is this, maybe, the end of my mini-curse?
There are no curses, just good teams and better teams and the breaks. Some days the breaks are your pal, sometimes they screw you. The Sox played well but met a perhaps better team, another 7 game series might have turned out different. Or not.
When The Curse ended in 2004, it was due to forward thinking managment and good pitching not the babe nor a certain hat worn a certain way nor an unchanged pair of socks somewhere.
Or it could have been you, or not.
Only three months and 26 days until pitchers and catchers report!
As anyone knows, I don't believe in curses; yet .... I believe Lord, help my unbelief....
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