I can’t wait for Sunday night. And in many ways, I have a hard time believing a new season is upon us. I’m still riding the fumes of 2004, watching Faith Rewarded every other night and drifting through the same haze that engulfed me that Saturday night in October when Game One of the World Series was being played in Boston. Remember that feeling? The first nip of winter in the air. Fenway all sexied up in bunting and flags and camera flashes and Peter Gammons. Full-page, full-color shots of the players on the front of every newspaper, every day. And you had to pinch yourself to be reminded that this was really happening. The Red Sox are in the World Series. So now we step into the new, but I’ll always have one foot planted firmly in that pigpile in St. Louis.
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It’s official: Time to colonize Mars.
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Words that Boston Globe Sportswriters Will Use to Describe David Wells Throughout the 2005 Season
1. zaftig
2. cantankerous
3. loutish
4. contumelious
5. the anti-Matthew Broderick
6. ace of the staff
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Yes, that is Krisily Kennedy, former NESN pre-game goddess and fixture in my dreams, cavorting on ABC’s The Bachelor. In a recent episode, The Bachelor [who, because he’s on TV, gets to be called The Bachelor, unlike my Uncle Milt, who is simply a bachelor] did a body shot off Krisily’s stomach. Not to be outdone, Don Orsillo gives him a nutmeg rubdown on next week’s show.
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I’m naming all my kids “Dave Roberts.” Even the girls. Especially the girls.
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Did I mention that I can’t f–king wait for Sunday night?
Because I can’t.
