The other day I was driving home when one of the sports talk hosts began sharing his thoughts on crying and sports. His stance was crying should be reserved “for life’s real moments” and not wasted upon a moment, play or game in sports.
Now, since it’s my blog, you get my take.
Isn’t sports a part of life? Isn’t it something that drives us to emotional reactions just like life’s various events do? Since when do we separate spots and life? For many of us, myself included, sports ARE our life. We laugh at, cry at and get angry at athletes and our teams. Sports bring us together over a common interest. It doesn’t matter where you’ve come from, if you’re sitting next to me at the next Sox game, we’re about to have a three-hour bonding session over the local nine.
So how can you say crying should be left for the things that really matter?! Sports matter. They matter a lot.
 I’ve cried over sports. Tears have been shed in times of sadness and happiness caused by one of my teams. I cried each time the Pats won the Super Bowl. I cried in 2003 when Aaron Boone touched home and was mobbed by jubilant Yankees. I cried- a lot- in October of 2004. I cried last October. I cried this past Super Bowl.
So, if you’re going to call yourself a true sports fan and claim any loyalty to any franchise, then, yeah, feel free to cry.
I cry every time I’ve watched Faith Rewarded…and I’m sure I will the next time I watch it.

The 2008 season as officially begun…the Sox are back on US soil and our flights to Baltimore later this summer are booked! In other words, all is right with my baseball world. There’s a certain spirit which overcomes me each time this year. The thought of which Minor League prospect could be the next big thing and which one will fail to meet much-anticipated expectations. Thinking about who could have a breakout year a la Billy Mueller circa 2003 or if there’s going to be a Beckettesque turnaround in season 2 for Daisuke.
The possibilities of where the next five months could lead us, what emotions we’re going to experience (although frustration, exasperation and jubilation come to mind) is one of my most looked-forward to feelings.
Tonight, we watch the Sox at Toronto, in their first of six meetings with the Jays. It’ll be Wakefield on the mound and me on the couch. I love Friday nights in, with a beer in one hand and my favorite Sox fan (other than myself) next to me. I love Saturday afternoon games, breaking up a lazy weekend day with three hours of pure joy. And I love Sunday games, where you watch your local nine and the looming threat of Monday seems to disappear.
Here is to the first real weekend series of the 2008 season…I can not wait.