The Home Run

Man, I am having all sorts of problems with my computer. I don't know what's wrong. I'm really stupid and a smart 3rd grader could probably tell me what to do, but I don't know any 3rd graders. My laptop, running Windows blah, blah, blah, is turning off repeatedly (crashing?) and when I turn it back on it struggles to restart and shows me a Repair function, and that sometimes does the trick, but today the Repairs window opened and then it died! On off, on off, on off, like some kind of girlfriend. And I kept rebooting, or trying to, and when I do this it does that, etc. Any good computer doktors readin' this? Is my hard drive crazy? Do I need a new computer, can mine be fixed? Has a virus like the one in my head attacked me?

(later on a borrowed computer I type this)

If you don't see me around much you'll know why. My computer is dead.

But before then, in recognition of the baseball all-star break I should quickly mention Carlton Fisk and the 1975 World Series and his game-six-saving home run that gave the Red Sox one more chance to win it all, but which they did not, because Cincinnati was too strong throughout its lineup, with heavies like Foster, Perez, Griffey, Morgan, Concepcion, Bench, Rose, and the rest.

I liked baseball back then, and particularly a pair of 2nd year stars playing for the Red Sox named Fred Lynn and Jim Rice, who would go on to have great careers in Boston. I think Lynn may have finished his career elsewhere, I'm thinking Anaheim, but I believe Rice played his whole career in Boston. I could be wrong about that, but it does not really matter. The point is I liked these players a lot, along with Carl Yaztremski who was the old-timer on the team. Yaz. Big-time player.

I watched that pivotal sixth game, sort of. I was in bed with Alice in Waterville, Maine. I'd had sex earlier in the day with Mary, and Alice came over and demanded sex right in the middle of the game. It sort of pissed me off, but I did my duty and started in with her, with the TV on and the sound down low so as to not disturb her concentration.

Fisk hit his home run right in the middle of our business. I got out of bed and whooped and jumped up and down because since moving to New England I had become a big Red Sox fan. I think I could have told you every stat about them, and I had watched all season long on TV as they won the pennant. I can't forget that; Hawk Harrelson was the color guy on the broadcasts with Steve Stone.

With Fisk's homer, I ran around in a circle hooting and hollering and then noticed something. Something having to do with my anatomy.

What are you doing? Alice said. Don't you want to finish?

Yeah, I said, soon as I'm done celebrating. It was incredible. A home run to win it!

It's just a baseball game. Who's playing?

I looked at Alice. She looked good lying on my small bed, naked, a little pale, whereas earlier she had more or less glowed pink.

I returned to the bed and finished up, circled the bases myself, feeling a little like Fisk, enthralled with how far and deep I'd hit it, keeping it in play somehow, with an act of will and and determination to come out a winner.

Alice didn't care much for baseball, I guess. I didn't lose interest until years later.



TS