As I watch Game 7 of the 2011 World Series I have remembered the final game of the baseball season over the past few years.
In 2004 I watched the Red Sox win at Satisfactions in Durham with Tasi Perkins. Courtney and I just started dating, and she was just beginning to understand what it meant to be a Red Sox fan.
In 2005 I watched the White Sox win from the laptop in my apartment in Paris. I think I stayed up until about 5am.
In 2006 I put aside some reading to root for the Cardinals (one of my preaching mentors is a big Cards fan, and I wanted to be in solidarity with him).
In 2007 I sat on the floor with my laptop in our apartment in Riga where we had just flown in the day before. I didn’t need the jet lag to help me stay awake, though, as the Red Sox winning provided enough adrenaline to keep me up through the wee hours of the morning.
In 2008 and 2009 I remember seeing the Phillies and Yankees (respectively) throw their gloves in the air, yet I can’t recall the details of those games. (I’ve spent the past 20 minutes wracking my brain and can’t seem to get the details straight.)
I got the antenna working with some aluminum foil at our apartment in Biddeford to catch the Giants celebration last year.
This year after fighting with the antenna again, I can hear the waves crashing outside beyond the commentary and din of the crowd on the TV. It’s nice. It’s peaceful.
I wonder if I will watch it next year, and if I do, then I wonder where it will happen.