
Even though I swore to myself in the immediate aftermath of Sunday’s trainwreck that I “didn’t care about the rest of the playoffs” and I “sure as hell wasn’t going to watch the games”… I was totally lying (it was just the bitterness talking). It’s baseball...

Even though I swore to myself in the immediate aftermath of Sunday’s trainwreck that I “didn’t care about the rest of the playoffs” and I “sure as hell wasn’t going to watch the games”… I was totally lying (it was just the bitterness talking). It’s baseball...

Even though I swore to myself in the immediate aftermath of Sunday’s trainwreck that I “didn’t care about the rest of the playoffs” and I “sure as hell wasn’t going to watch the games”… I was totally lying (it was just the bitterness talking). It’s baseball...

Even though I swore to myself in the immediate aftermath of Sunday’s trainwreck that I “didn’t care about the rest of the playoffs” and I “sure as hell wasn’t going to watch the games”… I was totally lying (it was just the bitterness talking). It’s baseball...

A. Bartlett Giamatti’s fabulous “The Green Fields of the Mind” piece from From A Great and Glorious Game is never more poignant, never more perfect, than a day like today. The poetry of his prose still resonates now, all these years later. So, with apologies to Mr. Giam...

I’m shaking off the post-clinch stupor I’ve been walking around in for the last week or so with a trio of lovely Red Sox awesomeness. Fi...














