Time Heals All Wounds

Time truly heals all wounds. For a looong time after that
fateful October night
, the Dowbrigade could not hear the word baseball or
see the color red without suffering anew the deception and depression
due to the disastrous denouement of the 2003 season.

But the van left for Florida last week, and we didn’t feel like running
away to a Tibetan monastery.  We no longer reflexively change the
channel whenever the topic of the boys of summer comes on the air.  We
can’t say we are ready to root for the Home Town Team (notice we still
can’t bear to write their name), but we may be OK with rooting against
the Evil Umpire. A promising sign of spring – this morning we cracked
a smile while reading Gordon Eaves list of analogies to having A-Rod
and Derek Jeeter on the same side of the diamond:

It’s like having Monet and Manet teach art at the Sorbonne. Or having
Emeril Lagasse and Martha Stewart cater your wedding reception. Or
having Atticus Finch and Johnnie Cochran on retainer. Or having Bozo
the Clown and Ronald McDonald at your birthday party.

from the Couch
Slouch
in the Boston Globe

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