by Mark Lawrence, Down-Under EditorSydney, Australia—September 27, 2011. A wild, improbable ride to Glory – that’s how our Esteemed Editor ended his post-mortem report of last night’s not-unexpected collapse at Fenway South – and the phrase immediately struck a rusty old chord somewhere within what passes for my soul these days.
Truth to tell, I’ve been doing it kind of tough this past eighteen months, sportsfans. Thanks to the GFC - and an idiot kid from the suburbs of Paris (a long and ugly story) - all my efforts to secure some kind of employment – and thus retaining that highly prized roof over my head – have been stymied. Sure I’ve come close a few times, yet try as I might I can’t seem to pull those strings together. In this regard, I have a little in common with the Olde Towne Team – we both know we can do the job, we both strive mightily to secure an opportunity and still, we fall short. Yet when we fail, we keep on trying. Well, what else are we going to do? Quit?
Remember - this is a team that started the year in the worst way imaginable and yet improbably managed to claw its way back into contention – only to stumble mere yards from the finish. But they’re not laying down on the track, clutching their collective ankle and grimacing in pain as the rest of the field passes them – they’re still in the race and if they keep their head, if they focus, if they can do what they do best, well – stranger things have happened.
I know a lot of The Nation finds my perpetually rose-tinted optimism a little cloying and perhaps even a tad immature at times, but I still have confidence that the Red Sox can somehow draw together those unravelling strings and wrest the Wild Card berth back from the upstart Rays. And anything that happens after that will be a sweet, sweet bonus.
One more wild, improbable ride to glory? Well, hell and why not?