Rocky Mountain High

The legal world this morning is bereft of Bench-worthy stories and, anyway, all I want to talk about is the Boston Red Sox (my Boston Red Sox, that is) winning the World Series in front of my very eyes last night. This means that my baseball team is far, far better than the Philadelphia Phillies, the baseball team that Howard Bashman, the blogger of fame, cherishes and frequently writes about. He's a better appellate lawyer than me -- big whoop -- but clearly I have better taste in ball clubs.

I will leave it to real baseball writers to write about the game and the Series. And I will leave it to other Sox fanatics to make meaning of this second title in four years following a championship drought of 86 years. I will just mention here that the somewhat soused members of the Colorado chapter of Red Sox Nation -- more than 2,000 miles from their home base at Fenway Park -- stayed in the stands for hours and hours after the Sox beat the Colorado Rockies at Coors Field in Denver. There were thousands and thousands of them, filling almost the entire lower bowl of the ballpark from third base to first base -- all dressed in Sox Red cheering for their team.

It was a picture of raw joy and passion and one that I will never forget for as long as I live.

I was fortunate enough to be on the field -- so vital am I to the mechanics of Major League Baseball (not) -- and it had all the trappings of a circus. You had your Japanese reporters and cameramen all waiting for a glimpse of Japan's hero, Daisuke Matsuzaka. You had your Italian reporters standing slack-jawed at the intensity of it all. You had your television producers all trying to make sure that the rest of us didn't step on their cables. You had your local Boston television reporters hurriedly doing their stand-ups. You had the lady with the Wheaties box with David Ortiz plastered on it (no, she wouldn't give one to me, the wretch).

You had your MLB executives looking quite important even as they did absolutely nothing. You had your Denver police officers glaring up at the chanting crowd. You had the wives and girlfriends -- bling! -- and kids of the players on the field. Kyle Snyder, the tall lanky relief pitcher who saw little action in the playoffs, stood facing the fans and stretched out his arms, "Braveheart"-like. Very few people noticed. And I'd be surprised if Snyder is back with the Sox next year. For a few hours Coors Field could have passed for Yawkey Way. No "wicked pissa" for sure.

Oh, and the best part of it -- or at least the part that should have psychiatrists all over the country weighing in? Even in their hour of glory, Sox fans found the time and energy to shout "Yankees Suck." The more things change....

By Andrew Cohen |  October 29, 2007; 9:19 AM ET
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Please email us to report offensive comments.

Posted by: | October 29, 2007 06:16 PM

Andrew - Not only do your columns display what a huge wussy you are, but your inferiority complex regarding the Yankees says it all. Why the infatuation with New York? Oh well, all you have to do is win about 20 more and you'll have something to talk about. Grow up you loser....

Posted by: Bob Ross | October 29, 2007 09:28 PM

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