Obligations

Abner Doubleday supposedly invented the game of baseball back in 1839, in Cooperstown, New York. This story was created in 1905 by Abner Graves, and taken for historical fact in 1907 by the Mills Commission, a panel convened to ascertain the origins of the game of American Baseball.

The Hall of Fame itself opened in 1939, built upon that very myth, in Cooperstown. For 32 years, the Hall recognized the acheivements of ballplayers, creating a hallowed ground of artifacts and history. It was not until 1972 though, well after Jackie Robinson debuted with the Dodgers in 1947, and nearly 5 years after the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. that the Hall of Fame finally began to recognize the contribution of African-American players to the game.

Over the next 30 years, 18 Negro League players were inducted into the Hall of Fame, 9 between the years of 1971 and 1977 by a special committee, and 9 between 1977 and 2001 by the Veterans Committee.

The 18 individuals who have been recognized do not begin to account for the stories, the legends and the talented individuals who were excluded from playing in Major League Baseball (or its previous incarnations) between 1898 and 1947.

In order to recognize indivduals overlooked so far by the voting process, the Hall of Fame has been gathering game data and taking suggestions for names to be voted upon and inducted into the Hall of Fame in a ceremony in February, 2006. Estimates of the number players who have a decent chance of being inducted by a 12 person committee range from 5 to 20. In addition, this is designed to be a "definitive vote," as the 5 year study by The Hall of Fame is thought to have unearthed all the extant evidence of the African American players and games that is likely to be found. Therefore, this will be the most important ballot regarding the Negro Leagues ever.

While the sentiments and efforts of Major League Baseball are to be applauded, I cannot say I approve of their marketing strategy.

This summer, a Negro League travelling exhibition made its way around the United States, stopping at Major League stadiums. I happened to be at the Nationals game when it stopped in Washington, D.C., but I unfortunately did not get to see it.

As I walked into the stadium, I looked around for the exhibit. I noticed a woman carrying a large check dedicated (I believe) to the Negro League Hall of Fame in Kansas City, and she informed me that not only was the exhibition gone for the day, but that it had been outside the stadium, in a parking lot. Not only were the exhibition times posted wrong online, but there had not been any indication of where the exhibition would be.

Furthermore, in what I deem a more egregious error than failing to adequately promote the February ballot and the history of Negro League Baseball over the summer, I have seen scant mention of the upcoming induction in papers or online or on TV.

Why this is, I do not know, as the public can hardly be expected to appreciate the gravity and importance of inducting more Negro Leaguers (and likely not allowing further inductions of Negro Leaguers) into the Hall of Fame without more notice.

Two days ago, I finally saw two articles published on MLB.com.

I sincerely hope that there will be more in the news about this, as it deserves the attention.

I would have hoped that ESPN would have created some documentaries to profile potential Hall of Fame entrants.

I would have hoped that more sportswriters around the country were paying more attention to this project, and to the ballot in February.

While I know there is a TV movie in the works documenting Buck ONeil and Ted Radcliffe, that is not scheduled for release until late 2006, and I feel that it is vitally important to spread awareness around this upcoming Hall of Fame vote.

Since I have not heard of any plans by ESPN to profile players, and I feel it unlikely that sportswriters will take the initiative to profile players and encourage public knowledge, I would like to issue a call to sportswriters across the country. With the number of readers who may be reached through our newspapers, I think the result could be truly inspiring.

The Task Ahead

As journalists, the obligations of sportswriters do not end at reporting and analyzing the events of the present.

The last Negro League games were played in the 1950's. Although six decades of Negro League baseball were written into history due to the unfair and unsportsmanlike segregation of the sport, Negro League Baseball became an integral part of the game's character. The Annual East-West game, the barnstorming of teams all over the nation, and the performance of players like Satchel Paige, Smokey Joe Williams, Oscar Charleston, and Josh Gibson became defining moments in the lives of adults and children across the country.

In particular, African Americans growing up under the shadow of Jim Crow could not look forward to Major League baseball. They could not idolize individuals like Babe Ruth or Honus Wagner. Instead, they often looked to the Negro Leagues for inspiration.

Those children are now in their declining years. If their stories and their accounts of the game are not recorded now, they will never be heard firsthand. There may still be someone who saw Willie Foster pitch in the late 1930's. There could still be individuals who saw Buck Leonard play with Josh Gibson in the late 1930's, a pair which would rival the Ramirez-Ortiz tandems of today in terms of offense. There might even be individuals who remember the 1931 Homestead Grays.

But in five to ten years, we might never be able to hear those stories firsthand again.

As journalists, sportswriters have an obligation to document and report history, to make their readers aware not only of what is happening, but also of how the events of today relate to the events of yesteryear. I would ask sportswriters, between now and February, to write at least one article that calls attention to the vote that will take place on February 27th, and which profiles one Negro Leaguer who has or had local ties.

At the end of the article, I would ask the writer to append a plea to the readers - to send stories or pictures of their experiences with the Negro Leagues to the papers.

After a suitable amount of time, and hopefully, several responses, a follow-up article could then be penned detailing the answers.

If we get enough articles written in papers across the country, a compendium could be created, of hundreds or thousands of stories of how the Negro Leagues looked and felt firsthand.

It is admirable that Major League Baseball and the Baseball Hall of Fame is currently compiling the game data, and that soon, we will recognize more of the legendary individuals who played the same game as their white peers but were relegated to secondary status, as human beings and baseball players, but played with joy and determination because they loved the game.

But think of how much more we can accomplish by reaching out through our newspapers and our media. In addition to immortalizing these individuals and their contributions through statistics and a plaque in the Hall of Fame, we can spread awareness of the history of the game. We can compile our memories of these players, so that their contributions to all our lives can endure, and continue to inspire and educate.








At this moment, I am still wondering about the feasibility of this plan - how would I get the attention of sportswriters, and is there a "critical mass" after which I could call this a success? do I need to try to get a version of the above column in an op-ed somewhere? should I get sportswriters to sign up? would getting word to college newspapers be a good place to start, perhaps? should I start a new blog dedicated to this, and post suggestsions and player biographies so that sportswriters might have a good starting point? or would that be too presumptuous?

So please, if you are reading this, please leave me feedback or ideas about how to make this proposal better and how to promote it.

At the moment, I am thinking about creating a new site dedicated to this topic, asking visitors to email their local sportswriters directing them to the site, and asking sportswriters to email me so I can put their names and/or their projects on the site. I think if there is interest, getting attention through op-ed columns would be a good way to get more writers to sign on.

If anyone can come up suggestions, please leave a comment or email me at will.li@gmail.com




If anyone feels strongly enough about this subject to write their local sportswriters, please do so and tell them to email me at the above address so I can gauge interest.

And if you happen to be a sportswriter, please email me to tell me how I can help writers with their research, with suggestions for players, and with feedback about the topic. Also, if I do start a website devoted to the topic, I would like to record the names of writers planning on devoting a column to the subject, even if the text of the column itself does not need to be posted to the website.

Thank You

Update

I have started a blog at Remembering and Recording The Negro Leagues

Further updates and interest on this topic will be directed there. I will do my best to update the site in terms of appearance and links, and hopefully, I will soon be able to start getting some feedback. If the project gets big enough, I'll open another site that isn't a blog, but that seems a little cocky at the moment.

Of Mustelids and Unforgivable Curses

So I went to an advance screening of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire tonight. It was decent I guess.

I'm ok giving some spoilers, and it's a tiny bit of a criticism. In the Goblet of Fire book, there's a judging system for the tournament that resembles the judging for Olympic figure skating, complete with Eastern bloc judges voting for their man (or woman), and a scale from 1-10. It was probably a good idea to stay away from that for the movie, and they do, but the problem is they don't replace it with anything.

Harry Potter is first and foremost, in style, a mystery. There's sleuthing and problem solving and red herrings all over the place in the books. This movie treats it more like a competition or an adventure that goes from A to B. I think it wasn't a great directorial move, especially seeing as how as I said before, their competition has no discernable scoring system. There's some vague references to judges, and first through fourth place, but the movie makes it very confusing about how people got to their respective positions.

But that's all the reviews/spoilers I'll give.

One thing that I've always wondered, and still wonder, after a conversation with Steve Resnick a while back, regards J.K. Rowling's originality. I have several issues with Rowling's style and narrative methods, but by and large, if she can get people to read, who am I to complain?

Wait, I know who I am to complain. And no, I won't say because I'm an English major, or because I consider myself somewhat knowledgable about the fantasy fiction genre. I can criticize and complain because that's one of my jobs as a reader. Sure, I should enjoy myself and immerse myself, but I should also reflect and criticize.

So here goes (and I'm going to complain about more major things than the fact that Voldemort is a lich, because in truth, Rowling often makes decent use of archetypes)

Gripes and Complaints:

Why the heck are all the cool curses, like the ones that give people animal features (like cat's ears), or the ones that make people's feet really slippery, or the ones that make someone throw up slugs, utterly useless outsides of retribution and/or for comic relief?

I know that there are some inventive uses of "curses" during wizarding fights and whatnot, but it seems, especially in the latest books (the fifth is especially poor about it), serious fights between the good guys and the bad guys amount to people throwing energy bolts around. Doesn't it get irritating to constantly shout the same thing?

And as an aside, if any of the kids have any schooling in latin, couldn't they tell what curses do without actually reading about it? Anyway...

The bad guys use the bad curses, as well as energy bolts and disarming stuff or something like that, and the good guys throw around energy bolts and disarm people or something like that. Why doesn't anyone in the wizarding world do anything original or make an inventive use out of a curse? Isn't making someone vomit slugs remotely useful in a tight situation? No?

As someone who grew up with AD&D, perhaps I would expect fireballs and clouds of stinking gas, or summoned imps, or illusions. To a certain extent, that is what I expect. And Rowling seldom delivers. This is really my major issue.

J.K. Rowling is working in a fantasy environment which promises no boundaries except her imagination.

Perhaps it is because the kids can throw around the funny curses in good times, and Rowling feels the need to be more serious in a fight, more serious meaning curses that cause direct physical pain. Of course, in doing so, she loses a lot of originality and potential. Her descriptions of battles, already set in vaguely described locales, descend into bolts of energy flying around and some yelling of the same things over and over again.

She can't see it in her power to a) make the battles in the books interesting and b) inject any decent description about settings when the settings are new to the reader.

She's very good at using animals as metaphors, giving characters animal-like traits, and describing everyday environments with a fantasy twist. But when it comes to describing a scene like the climactic battle in the fifth book (in the Ministry or wherever), she makes no sense whatsoever.

Dumbledore's Army finds itself fighting a bunch of Death Eaters in some vaguely described rooms and hallways, some of which have ridiculously and strategically placed hazards, like a door that leads into oblivion.

The sixth book has a similar scene, the one in which Harry and Dumbledore are looking for one of Voldemort's phylacteries, or whatever Rowling decided to call them. Harry and Dumbledore crawl into a cave. And walk along some cliff or something, and across to the middle of a lake, the size of which Rowling doesn't feel the need to convey.

Now, I know that the reader is supposed to use his or her imagination, but honestly, the author is expected to give the reader something to work with, yes? There is a school of thought that believes an author should be spartan with details because it is up to the reader to call upon their imagination, but I think that's a load of crap.

J.R.R. Tolkien did some things badly. He also was bad at battle scenes, for similar reasons to Rowling. For instance, while I don't have it in front of me, the Battle of Pelennor Fields in The Return of the King was quite vague. You had some fires, and some orcs, and some Grond, and then some knights and some Riders of Rohan from behind, and then some Aragorn and some Rangers in boats. Oh, and some Eowyn/Dernhelm and some Witch King in the middle of it all.

The geography of it all isn't particularly clear. All the reader really knows is front and back, at Minas Tirith and away from Minas Tirith. Which is a bit unfortunate, as some weather and wind, placement of the sun, a little hill here and there, some "A cloud of dust arose from the fallow earth as the steeds of Rohan charged the field, the sun rising behind them. And as they emerged from the golden storm upon the bewildered hordes of Mordor, their swords shone and their songs of war echoed and rang across the fields," might have made it more interesting. But Tolkien had something like that, at least the sun, if I remember correctly (maybe he had more of it), while Rowling has . . .curtained doors to nowhere.

Ok, maybe that Tolkien example wasn't perfect, because he actually does that first part ok, with the Riders of Rohan rushing the field.

If you read The Battle of the Five Armies in The Hobbit, Tolkien thought out the cardinal directions (Southern spur of the mountain, Eastern spur) very carefully. He places Bilbo on the Southern spur because Bilbo couldn't see the Eagles (not Don Henley) coming from the North and West if he had a vantage point on the Eastern spur. But his conception is very clean, almost as if he's looking at a map and describing it all. For instance, late in the battle, the dwarves take a stand around a "low rounded hill." Which came out of nowhere, apparently. There's no mention of grass, or trees, or big stones (although there are cliffs and precipices from which the goblins fall from) in the field, just two spurs of the mountain, and a valley between them.

Raymond Feist, as another example, did some things badly. Pug rescuing Carline from a bunch of trolls as "letters of fire burned in his mind's eye as he cast the spell" (or something like that) was a bit silly. Pug raining destruction above the Colosseum on Tsurannuani was even more hokey. To his credit though, Feist can write a seige or a battle. His descriptions of Armengar or Crydee work effectively. He doesn't focus on individuals too much, even though his main characters are present, he pays attention to both armies, to the time of day, to the "gritty" elements, etc. etc.

I used to read the Tracy Hickman and Margaret Weis books all the time. Dragonlance was great stuff. Chronicles and Legends still is. But I lost a lot of respect for Weis and Hickman when I realized how those first six books were so good, and why they could never recapture all that, well, good stuff. It was because they role-played it all. From the beginning of the quest to the end, they role-played a lot of it. From the beginning of Raistlin's low constitution, to Caramon's smothering love for his brother, that was all produced at a gaming table. It wasn't very hard for them to then take that experience, and translate it to a book. So to a large extent now, when I think back fondly upon the Dragonlance novels, I don't credit Weis and Hickman so much as I credit their entire gaming group.

I suppose I complain because if I want kids reading, I want them reading good stuff, and learning about good ways to write scenes, like C.S. Lewis does in The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe. I remember reading about the Professor's house, and the smell and feel of the cupboard (camphor and fur coats) and being drawn into the book. Drawing the reader in is not necessarily predicated on making them laugh at inept charaters or making them muse about the motives of other characters. Obviously Rowling gets this, but her departs from her strengths when she tries to write ponderous or serious material.

I guess Rowling is an o.k. starting point. But she could be a heck of a lot more creative. She has such a loyal audience, and so much unlimited space with which to work. I wish she would have used it more.

Choose Your Own Adventure: Be the GM! (Red Sox Edition)

Theo Epstein stunningly walked away from the Boston Red Sox yesterday, in the 24th hour of negotiations. According to most sources, the contract he didn't take would have guaranteed his occupation for the next three years, and made him about 4.5 million dollars richer.

Why would he do this?

Speculation (and that's all we can really do, since his statement didn't shed a whole lot of light on his thought process) cover a variety of possibilities, ranging from my initial guess, which was that he wanted to prove his mettle away from Larry Lucchino, the Red Sox CEO who had brought Theo into the baseball business first with the Orioles and then with the Padres, to Theo's acrimonious relationship with Larry Lucchino, to indignation over the close ties between the Red Sox and the Boston Globe that was handicapping his ability to work and negotiate, to comments that his father made before Theo got the job with the Sox

But the more I think about it, and I have thought about it a good deal, the more I think that the simplest explanation is best. While the legendary Red Sox team of 2004 famously eschewed the use of Occam's Razor (or any razor for that matter), I'd like to present a quick and simple scenario using the time honored tradition of "Choose Your Own Adventure." Just follow along, please, and humor me as I take my stab at what happened when Theo decided to walk away from his hometown team this past weekend. Forgive me for my presumption, as I have no clue if this is how things went at all.

Page 1

Your hands shake as you open the door to the interview room. Inside the room, three individuals, all men in neatly tailored suits, smile at you. You are young, you love the game of baseball, and you're applying for one of the coolest jobs available, as far as you're concerned. You want to be an intern! The man on the far right stands.

"Hi there," he says, glancing at the sheet on the table in front of him. "Theo, right?"

If you work through the interview, nervous as you are, turn to Page 3.

If you're too afraid, and suddenly feel the urge to run to the bathroom, turn to Page 7



Page 3

You got the job!! What's better, it was a great summer. Mr. Lucchino was a hard boss, but you work your ass off during that summer, and make a good impression. You like the offices, you like the people you work with, and of course, you're now inside. You're part of the baseball machine now, a step above the groundcrew and the ballboys, but not quite on the level of the batboys, yet.

"Even so", you think to yourself as you walk up the steps to your Residential College at Yale, where you will be for the next four years, "even so, I think I've found my calling."

If you decide to be an English or a psychology major, turn to Page 1.

If you decide to change your major, major in American Studies, and go to law school, turn to Page 8



Page 8

Man, life is tough. Tort class, contracts class, and then off to push papers for the San Diego Padres. You're starting to wonder if you'll ever sleep this week. At least all the girls are gorgeous around here. No time for them though, really, when all you're thinking about is contract law and if that Ken Caminiti guy is going to honor the no tackle football clause in his contract. And you thought Mr. Lucchino was tough when you were an intern. Boy were you in for a rude awakening. How are you going to manage 70 hours a week with the Padres and then another 50 in the library and in class? Are there even that many hours a week? The answer? Because you love baseball, that's why.

"Just a couple more years," you think, "just a couple more."

If you want a steady high paying job with an LA law firm, turn to Page 666.

If you want to work for the Padres and Mr. Lucchino, turn to Page 18



Page 18

You love California, but something isn't right. For 5 years now, the Padres and San Diego has been your home. But the organization isn't exactly moving forward. Barry Bonds is murdering balls up in San Francisco, and you start thinking about getting the hell out of Dodge. Bill James is working with the Red Sox, and it sounds like they've heard of your work. Would they think about hiring you?

If you stay in San Diego, and ogle the girls while the organization obtains Woody Williams, turn to Page 28.

If you check out the situation with the Sox, and you want to go home, turn to Page 35.



Page 35

OH MY GOD! They made you their General Manager! You try not to let the news get to your head, but you only manage to spin around and babble incoherently for a couple of minutes, which would be weird except it's fairly common here in Boston. Happily, but knowing that the expectations of one of the country's most rabid fan bases are now resting upon your shoulders, you take the job, move into a nice office, and get ready to talk to the media. Except that Shaughnessy guy. You never really liked him. But now, you're home. You're working for the home team. You wish your father was more proud of you, but wait until you make him eat his words and win the Sox a World Series!!

"Well," you think, "better not get too far ahead of myself."

If you want to sell the farm for free agents and try to win with veteran players, turn to Page 78.

If you want to build through the draft, and build a solid core around what you already have, Nomar, Manny and Pedro, turn to Page 86.



Page 86

You were so CLOSE! If only Aaron Boone hadn't messed everything up, you would have been on your way to a World Series, in only your second year as GM! How amazing would that have been?

"That's that," you sigh, taking a deep breath.

"I wonder if A-Rod is on the market?"

If you do whatever it takes to get A-Rod, turn to Page 31.

If you can't bring yourself to make the money work, and you think A-Rod is a bit of a pussy anyway, turn to Page 5.



Page 5

So the A-Rod thing didn't work out. Who knew that after hitting that homer, Aaron Boone would blow out his knee during the offseason, leaving the Yankees (who Mr. Lucchino recently branded The Evil Empire) with an opening at third base?

It's ok. You didn't like him anyway. He was always kind of a pussy.

You at least have a good closer now, Keith Foulke, after that committee thing didn't really work out.

You pulled a very nice PR move by going over to Curt Schilling's and getting him to come to Boston, and you didn't even mention that his wife's turkey was kind of dry. Curt didn't notice how much cranberry sauce you used, and he seemed genuinely intrigued by your offer. You think that he really just likes to be contrarian, and the idea of sticking it to Jeter makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. In addition, he's obviously sick of Randy Johnson's redneck jokes.

All in all, 2004 looks like it's shaping up to be one hell of a season, with the rivalry amped up and payroll up near your neck and the entirely of the Boston Red Sox fanbase breathing down your neck after last year.

Crap. You have to go to Bronson Arroyo's "concert." But do you really want to go?

If you stay home and crunch some stats, turn to Page 10.

If you decide to listen to Bronson mangle some Nirvana covers, turn to Page 47 .



Page 47

Man, that concert sucked.

You keep the thought to yourself, but you bet that Bernie Williams is twice the musician Bronson is.

Then again, twice zero is zero, you remind yourself.

At least Peter Gammons was there to get some good quotes from you.

And you realize that Pokey Reese is a damn cool name.

Turn to page 60.



Page 60

Midseason. There are some troubles brewing. Your team isn't clicking, Nomar isn't happy, and your defense is best described as "colandar-like." What to do?

What to do?

What to do?

If you flip Nomar in a huge four team trade that will net you defensive upgrades Orlando Cabrera and Doug Mient-somethingorother, despite the fact that it pains you, not to mention your fanbase, to trade the face of the organization, and you start to wonder if you're liking this whole GM thing after all, turn to Page 18.

If you sit tight, turn to Page 29.



Page 18

There are no words to describe the feeling you have. You just won the series. Pedro is pouring champagne on you and grinning like a madman, which he is. Derek Lowe and Tim Wakefield are off in the corner crying, Keith Foulke is sitting there with a dumb grin on his face, Curt Schilling is saying something that no one is really listening to, and Doug . . . hey, where did Doug go?

In any case, it's over. You did it. Your team came back from an insurmountable deficit against the Yankees, and your moves all turned out right, especially Dave Roberts, and you trounced the much vaunted Cardinals in a World Series, which was otherwise only memorable for a few defensive errors from Manny and a baserunning gaffe by Jason Marquis. All those runs your team scored were cool though.

And sitting there drenched in champagne, you know that this is it. There's no better feeling.

And you also realize that if the team was Peanuts, drawn by Charles Schultz, Mark Bellhorn would be Pig-Pen. The guy is just never clean.

If you hold the team together for the next year, even though it's neither fiscally responsible nor the best way to repeat, turn to Page 90.

If you let Derek Lowe, Orlando Cabrera, Pedro Martinez and a bunch of other guys out the door via free agency, taking draft picks with a heavy heart as you break up what now seems to be a family, knowing that the chemistry won't be the same in the clubhouse next year, turn to Page 68.



Page 68

It's the end of the 2005 season. Things didn't go too well, and you just got swept. Even so, you managed to win 95 games. But now that it's the offseason, you have to think about the contract again. You brought it up in Spring Training, but Larry brushed you off. You tried again near the all-star break, but again, came up empty handed.

All you want to do is work for the Red Sox, because that's where your heart is. But even so, all the trading, all the economics, especially all the bickering that goes on in the organization between Larry and the rest of the staff, really puts a damper on how you view your own team. No longer are they the team you grew up cheering for as a kid.

Even though your investment in them is much larger now, you can't help but wish for a simpler situation in which you could just cheer for the Sox and not wonder if Chuck LaMar is going to approach you about a trade, or if Larry is going to nix a deal, or if those pieces of sod that you sold after last season will ever ship. You don't want to worry about Damon's contract, or Manny, who, although he's a nice guy, is an absolute basketcase, or in Spanish, un basketcase, or marketing, or getting rid of the 406 club. You just want to enjoy baseball and get away for a bit.

"But c'mon," you rationalize.

"This is every kid's dream! Even if the reality is a bit more stark, it's still a great thing to do! It's still the only industry I really know. It's still home."

If you decide to renew your contract, turn to Page 100.

If you decide to keep thinking about it, turn to Page 87.



Page 87

You wake up on a Sunday morning. It's light outside, and your clock reads 8:00 AM. That can't be right, you think. You slept better than usual. Then you realize that you gained an hour due to daylight savings. That's a good way to start out the day.

Getting up, you walk to the front door to get the paper. You open it over coffee, only to spew the contents of your mouth over the front sports page as you read what that curly haired idiot at the Globe wrote about you.

It's insulting, that's what it is. Baseball isn't about infighting, or petty, underhanded arguments carried out through the media. It's not about making a buck if it means selling the heart and soul of your team out. It was bad enough that Jimmy Fallon got onto the baseball field when you won it all. But it's just too much. The trades you had to force yourself to make, the critics you had to face, the reporters that had to have a sound-byte in response to something Larry said.

It's over. You loved the game, and you loved your Red Sox, but you just can't justify working for them anymore. It would slowly poison you, until you were as cold and as unfeeling as Larry Lucchino, a mercenary that saw (sees) baseball only as a business. As Machiavellian as he is, you know that he's wrong.

Baseball is a business, but part of business is taking care of your own. And that's why, even though you know you want to take care of the team, and the players, and the fanbase, you can't do it anymore. You can give your body and mind to the sport and the team, but you can't sell your soul to it. When you lose that perspective, all you can take care of is the bottom-line, which is what people like Lucchino do. You can't turn into that.

You walk away, glad you can be a fan when you still can. You'll attend games next year, not as a businessman or a manager, but a fan. And you'll love the game.

Who knows, maybe in a year or two you'll miss the background and the behind-the-scenes dealings. But you need some time off first. You went out on top, and Boston will always love you no matter what happens after this.

THE END.