My eldest son, Josh, loves the Red Sox, which is unusual for a Virginian living in North Carolina and has something to do with the fact that his parents come from Boston. My son has a lot of heart, which makes him a good candidate for being a Red Sox fan. It takes someone with heart to have unconditionally loved the Red Sox throughout their long and cursed losing streak.
When Josh was a little boy, I told how I had once met Carl Yastrzemski, the all-time great Red Sox player (1961 - 1983). The Yaz, as he was sometimes called back then, had come into the boutique on Tremont Street in Boston where I was working. It didn't mean that much to me, not being a sports fan myself. I was only nineteen and probably wasn't even that sure of who he was. But my son could hardly believe it was true, that I met Carl Yastrzemski. "Mum! Why didn't you get his autograph for me?!" he shouted excitedly.
"But Josh," I answered, trying to explain, "I didn't know I was going to grow up to have a boy like you!"
Note: This entry was originally posted on http://looseleafnotes.com on April 24, 2005.
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