Since late March, this has been my routine in the Glenshaw household on nights when I am home: 1) make dinner for the kids and Elizabeth, 2) eat dinner with them, 3) clean up the kitchen, 4) help with homework and take care of other family needs, 4) exercise my black lab, Bear, by throwing the ball long and against a pitchback for 20-30 minutes, and 5) watch the Red Sox.
Win or lose, I watch the Local Nine, most often on NESN and sometimes on those national broadcasters.
162+ games. Some six, maybe seven months, of baseball. From the old cold of Winter to the heat of Summer to the new cold of Fall, the constant has been the Red Sox. And this year's team has been incredible constant.
In first place in their division since April, the 2007 Red Sox have been a joy to watch. I've been a devoted fan of a lot of teams and a lot of sports since I graduated into the world of fandom at the age of eight years, when my hometown team, the Washington Redskins, had an amazing season in 1972 only to lose the Super Bowl to the Miami Dolphins, 14-7.
But in all those years, this team has been perhaps the most incredibly special to watch. Maybe it's the funny combination of experience and freshness they bring. Or the funny combination of experience and freshness that comes when I watch the game alongside my kids, especially Hannah (12) and Jacob (10). This year, they probably watched 100+ games and learned more about the game and this team than I certainly knew at their ages.
It's been a great year, and last night's victory that swept the World Series against the Colorado Rockies is a moment which I will treasure for a long time. Here is perhaps what I will remember most.
In 2004, with one out in the top of the ninth inning, I woke up Hannah and Jacob so they could witness the Red Sox winning a World Series. Why Dad, they asked, did you wake us up? Why did you run outside and scream?
Last night, they stayed up with me to win the Series. This time, with one out to go, there was Jacob, fast asleep on the couch and Hannah in a similar recline. But they were there. I jostled them only slightly, and suddenly we were altogether watching the celebration. It was 1:30am before we all went to bed, visions of Red Sox jumping around in unadulterated happiness in our heads.
This morning the Glenshaw household moved a bit slower than usual. Thanks to healthy doses of tea and coffee, we got out of the house on time (or close to it), but in each of our heads, thoughts of the Red Sox and this incredible victory came to mind.
We talked about it over breakfast this morning. We talked about it over dinner tonight. And we will talk more about it in the coming weeks, months, and years. A memory was set over the last seven months, and we shall revisit it often.
Tonight in the Glenshaw household the TV set is quiet. Everyone is asleep. The lights in our house are dark. The season is over. It will be several months again before you find this corner of our house alight at night. But our hearts? Our minds? They remain lit, fired with the joy and happiness of victory.
Goodness knows the Rockies were close (and I mean, that close) to figuring out how to beat the Red Sox. Somehow, the Sox persevered. They survived. They triumphed. As they had done all season, the Red Sox overcame the most persistent and capable opponents. And the result is something I will hold in my heart for a long, long time.
The only thing which gives me more peace and joy lies in the expressions and sounds I hear from my kids about this victory. Even Noah, my youngest (7 years old), who has long professed a love for the Yankees (who is this kid's father?), donned a Red Sox cap in the 2007 World Series.
And the sounds and expressions I heard and saw that meant the most to me had little to with the victory itself. Instead, they came from catching the fire of being of sports fan. Of understanding that good times and bad come to all sports fans, but like life itself, there is a cycle. Thanks to the Internet and instant reply and lots of video archives, kids today can get an instant download of history -- its sadness, its joy, and the-in-between.
Sports provide an incredibly safe proxy for the experience of living itself. And what I got from my kids this time was a small glimpse and recognition of this cycle. A person learns and relearns what this cycle means over the years. It's a long walk, but maybe the hardest part involves taking the first step. I think I heard that step being taken by the next generation of Glenshaws over the past few nights.
As for me....it's time to go to bed and get some much needed sleep.


