The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States

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Wednesday, October 12, 2005

The Reason Why I Didn't Get Upset That The Red Sox Lost

As well as the reason why I didn't get too excited last year when they won.

For the past few days, a few people, mostly Yankee fans and the such, have been rubbing it in about the Red Sox losing. I just try to smile and shrug it off. I always say, well, you know, it is just a game. It doesn't really matter. They always say, yeah, sure whatever. But they don't understand why, they don't understand my perspective.

Some might think it was the fatherly advice I was given when I was a kid.

"Son," my father said, "team sports suck."

I used to get upset with sports as a child. I couldn't hold my emotions in when Rex Chapman left my beloved Wildcats. And sometimes, when I see the Laettner shot, I wince in pain, remembering that pain and heartache.

I like to think that I have grown up since then. I would like to think that I don't get emotionally distraught and depressed because of a game that I have no control over.

I know people he can't speak after their team loses. Not me. Not anymore. Not after the past two years.

For the past two years, during the last game the Red Sox played, I have received a phone call from an old friend. And he hasn't had very good news either time.

Last year, he called me during the last two innings of the World Series. I asked him how his life was, and he said not so good. We had a long talk. He talked about an affair, a marriage dissolving, and a miscarriage. I could hear the hurt in his voice. I remember the line went silent as we both watched that last out. He said he had to go, he need to go get blitzedt to celebrate and maybe forget.

That night, I wanted to celebrate the ending of years and years of Red Sox frustration, but I just couldn't. I couldn't feel good, so I just brushed my teeth and went to bed.

This past Friday, as the Red Sox were once again playing their last game, this time the Red Sox ended their final game with a loss, I received a phone call. All those old demons are rearing their ugly heads. I heard the hurt in his voice. There was pain, lots of it. So much doubt. He wanted answers, I think, but most of all he just wanted to let all his emotions out. He said he trusted me because he knew that I wouldn't judge him and that I would listen to him. We talked for a while. I don't know if it did any good, but I hope it did.

I am glad he trusts me, to listen and to care.

But most of all, I am glad that I didn't care if the damn Red Sox blew it again...

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