Heaviness in my chest and tingling in my left arm
That's right, the big PPD. Weather Channel says it's wretched in Boston, wet and windy, nice, gray, wet-feet Boston-y weather. Does anyone else feel like this is the longest last month of the season ever? I swear its been September for at least the last 12 weeks. Last September flew by on electric wings, buzzing with excitment like a dragonfly. I hate the season ending and by November 15 I will regret ever wishing even for a moment that it could all just be over, but I'm a little worn out.
That said, Yesterday Jaybeans and I watched the game (10:35 AM Pacific time) and drank beer ('cause it was 1:35PM Eastern time) while I made chicken stock. I wore my Schilling shirt and thought about last year. So, as a result, a memory:
October 2004; Jaybeans and I are living in Birmingham, a place where no one has ever heard of a sport other than college football. It's game 5 of the ALCS and Jaybeans and I are tired. We know we can't watch this game sober. As the game got going, I shook up a couple of martinis (Bombay Saphire, not too dry with a twist), but the shaker top wasn't on right and it flew off. Gin went everywhere, soaking the chest of my #38 t-shirt.
"Oh God," I thought, "this has got to be the worst omen ever."
I had spilled precious gin all over my favorite piece of Red Sox gear. I was almost certain I'd doomed us. Then I remembered how there is some precedent to the idea of spilling liquids having power. People used to anoint the earth all the time. Alcohol, blood, whatever. I thought, "If people can cull favor with the spirits of the earth by giving it an offering, maybe I can cull favor with the spirits of baseball."
"I'm offing up that martini to the gods of baseball," I said to Jaybeans. I danced energetically around the kitchen, drinking the remaining martini from the shaker and chanting a little. "Maybe all we need is a little luck, a little supernatural power."
That night David Ortiz hit a walk off homer, and the rest, well, you know.
Now, I'm not saying that our boys won the World Series because I soaked the Red Sox logo directly over my heart with gin. But I will say this. When the first game of the season commenced this year, I put on my t-shirt and made myself a drink. I dipped my fingertips into the glass and sprinkled the fragrant drops over my chest. Just in case.
The last few days I'm thinking, maybe it's time to break out the old shaker again.