The plain, sad fact of the matter is that I love this team. I love the Red Sox no matter who goes on the DL or if they win the World Series or if they lose the World Series. And I don't just love the Red Sox as a whole thing, I love each and every player I've gotten to watch over the last year or two individually.
Example: Thank God Kevin Millar had kids. Seriously. Beyond the fact that his wife had fertility problems, my personal feeling has been that Millar would be the best father on the team. In fact, I was shocked when I found out sometime last year that he didn't have kids yet. Some people are just meant to be parents, and Millar seems like one of them.
Plus, how lucky are those little ones? A whole Nation rejoicing in their birth. Theo buying them their own little Hot Wheels motorcycles to go with Daddy's. Tito to play catch with. Curt Schilling for horsey rides. Billy Mueller to read them stories (and ladies, if that image doesn't make your blood pressure skyrocket, then I don't know what to tell you). Manny for a godfather (although, please God, not a babysitter).
And who knows. Maybe someday my kids will be hollering at a TV screen about Kashten Millar's defense.
Last night I watched the re-run of the Welcome Home Dinner from this past year, and I know it's old news, but I haven't gotten to see it before. I was surprised by how incredibly attached I've grown to all the players, how there is virtually no scrap of information about them I find uninteresting. In fact, I was pissed off watching the broadcast because it contained more droning speeches about the Red Sox Foundation than fun close-ups of the players misbehaving at the dinner table.
But I still watched--because in between all the ass-kissing among the landed gentry there were little snippets like David Ortiz' black satin Sox cap or Tim Wakefield hugging a little kid or Trot Nixon tapping his World Series ring in rhythm on the table while Bronson Arroyo sang. Those things are like gold to me.
Honestly, I probably come off as a stalker saying this, but if I ever met any of these guys I'd probably hug them, address them with a nickname and be halfway into a monologue about how much I love them before they finally were able to work in a, "Do I know you?" edgewise.
Kinda creepy, kinda sad, yeah, but I honestly don't think I'm alone.