On the day that game six returned to Fenway, however, I knew it was going to be a good day. A good enough day to stay up and watch the celebratory hugs and lavish quirts of champagne after the final out. On that late night, or more precisely in the early morning, I was wide awake until after 12:30 when the networks closed down for the night. It was amazing.
Also amazing, but in a very personal way, was my response the next morning. The game was behind me. In place of all the emotional, mental and physical noise of the season, I was ready for silence, not just in my ears but in my very way of living. The silence was with me the very moment I woke up, having slipped in quietly during the night. I glanced at the headlines and then went on with my life--no game recap from TV or the Boston Globe.
In the next few days I’m sure I’ll read some articles and wallow in the recaps. Undoubtedly I’ll take more than a glance at the Duck Boat parade on Saturday. After all, who doesn’t like to feel good? But I won’t be creating my own ‘Wait ‘til next year’ scenario. This was a moment in time. This was this year.