Today, I’m calling for two things. The first is Josh Beckett’s return to what scientists refer to as “Josh Beckett mode.” I’m talking asses kicked, batters buzzed, and K cards lined up from the center field bleachers to the Copley Marriott. The second is revenge. Revenge for the 1986 World Series. Sure, it was over two decades ago and we’ve long since chloroformed all the old ghosts. But there’s still a little part of me that likes seeing guys in Mets jerseys saunter off Fenway’s green, heads hung, spirits broken.
To those at Palooza, I salute you. To the rest of us, stuck working for The Man on a gorgeous weekend, I say stay safe in the wisdom that just a few miles away, Josh Beckett is doing God’s work.
