The current group of Red Sox–including players, managers, and owners–are just plain unlikeable. They are arrogant and overpaid and ungrateful. People ask why, then, do fans continue to flock to Fenway, to watch, to listen to the games? The answer at least for me is that I can’t help it. I can’t stay away. Like carbs and celebrity gossip blogs, the Red Sox are a bad addiction. And I guess by Red Sox, I really mean the bigger picture, the whole Red Sox “thing.” Currently, I am worried and frightened for tv broadcaster Jerry Remy. He has missed seven games, and will miss another week with what management tells us is a “sinus infection.” Hard to trust them after Ellsbury’s ribs; Crawford’s wrist/elbow/bat/base stealing/stomach for Boston; and Remy’s own history. Listening to Wednesday night games on the radio is impossible for me because I need Dave O’Brien, who works for ESPN that night of the week. Post-game? Eck. (if you know that is not a sound of derision, you, too, may have an addiction!) Beat writers and sports radio commentators (even Tony Massarotti) are all part of the equation that adds up to what the Red Sox are for me.
POST SCRIPT: Sad news about Mariano Rivera. Great, great player. His sense of humor on opening day 2005 was as memorable as any part of that great day.
POST POST SCRIPT: The 16-9 Orioles are in town tonight and face the 1-2 Jon Lester. First pitch 7:10. I’ll be listening.
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