The Boston Red Sox play "Dirty Water" by the Standells after every Red Sox victory at Fenway. The last line of the chorus, as you'll recall, is "Boston, you're my home."
Boston isn't my home. But every time I've ever been there, it has felt like home. Not being a Yankee fan helps in that regard, for sure. But for someone who takes his recreation and his sporting events seriously, being in Boston has always felt like an old pair of sneakers that always fit just perfectly. The one thing you notice in Boston during baseball season is how every conversation you overhear on the street is about the Red Sox. This is a city that especially values their sports, their recreation, and their holidays.
It's part of what makes me sick about what happened on Monday at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. While we all know deep down that nothing is out of the realm, Boston on Patriots Day is one of those places and times that you wouldn't think you would need to keep your head on a swivel, where worrying is the last thing on your mind. Now the escape of sports, recreation, and holidays has been forever tinged and linked with tragedy, and worry. Forever tinged with death, including that of an 8-year-old. Eight.
Boston isn't my home. But I love it like it is … especially tonight. My heart is broken for Boston, and for those who have been affected the most by this cowardly and sickening act. It's hard not to pull my mind from the fact that people really do suck sometimes. And I know that's a simplistic way to put it, but I can't tear myself away from that. The good news is that the good will always outweigh the evil in time. I truly believe that. It's just a little harder to believe that right now.
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