Greetings from Boston, former city of underdogs!
I just think it's so crazy that Pop was 86 when he died and it took 86 years
for the Red Sox to win another world series . . .
that my Dad, Tyler, and I went to a Sox game this year and
that Tyler took dirt from the hallowed grounds of Fenway Park to sprinkle on Pop's grave . . .
I couldn't help but remember him sitting on the porch listening to Jerry Remy
announce a game, or rooting for the Sox in his old recliner, with the volume turned way, way up . . .
I couldn't help but smile when the town was going crazy last night. I hope that
all the yells and cheers, however obscene and drunken, were making it up to his
deaf ol' ears!
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