Posted tagged ‘Tom Brady’

“Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. ”

July 25, 2017

I apologize for the lateness of the hour, but I have been trying to find out why my new computer keeps telling me it has run out of application memory. I have been deleting files like crazy. I found pieces of files I thought I had wiped from my computer were still lurking in a variety of places. I went looking for duplicate files and found several. I don’t know if I have solved the problem, but I’m hopeful.

This morning when I woke up neither Gracie nor Maddie was around, and my stirring did nothing to alert them. I got worried. Gracie started moving in her crate when I called her. Maddie didn’t respond to my calling her or making that come here cat sound with my lips. I went upstairs and found her sound asleep on my bed. I was so relieved.

Today is dark and damp and really cold. The only word which comes to mind is ugly. It rained most of yesterday, and I got wet taking Gracie into the yard. She dried quickly. I didn’t.

We have to go out in a bit and one stop is at CVS for Gracie’s pills. I’m thinking the parking lot will be filled with cars, and I’ll have to park miles away. I curse tourists on days like today. On sunny days, I can be patient and tolerate, but my mood on a day like today mirrors the weather.

It isn’t bad enough I have to stay up to watch a Sox game from the West Coast which doesn’t start until 10, but I also have to watch them lose. Such misery and pain!

The Patriots have started training camp. Tom Brady just turned 40. He lives for football and his whole regimen, his whole diet, is meant to maximize his physical well being and strength. I, on the other hand, believe that life without ice cream is barely worth living.

The trap in the kitchen is still empty. Maybe the four mice I caught are the end of the infestation. The other two floors, upstairs and the cellar, have no evidence of mice, no poop. Now, if I could only get rid of the spawns. I still haven’t put up my new backyard lights. I miss them as the yard is dark when I take Gracie outside before bed. Last night I heard a noise. Gracie did too. We both looked in the same direction. I kept looking. She went and peed. I took that as all is well.

“I’m helplessly and permanently a Red Sox fan. It was like first love…You never forget. It’s special. It’s the first time I saw a ballpark. I’d thought nothing would ever replace cricket. Wow! Fenway Park at 7 o’clock in the evening. Oh, just, magic beyond magic: never got over that”

April 3, 2017

Right now on TV is the Red Sox pre-game. It is opening day at Fenway. The game starts at two and Rick Porcello is pitching. I’d love nothing better than to be there on an opening day, but I’ll do the next best thing and watch it on NESN. Being home does have an advantage: the bathroom and the kitchen are close.

Today is warm, seasonable at 49˚. The sky is blue where it isn’t cloudy. The sun is here then gone then back again.

I have no plans for the day other than watching the game. Yesterday I got some inside chores finished. I swept and washed the kitchen floor, watered the plants, and cleaned the little bathroom. My maid could have done all of these if I only had a maid.

Most of the ballplayers are young, as expected. The oldest member of the Red Sox staff looked to be the bat boy. I guess the traditional name sticks regardless of age.

Tom Brady threw out the first pitch. The crowd yelled Brady over and over as TB tossed the baseball. Even though the throw was high, it flew all the way to the plate with not a single bounce. Pedroia was waiting.

I am easily distracted today. I was in the bathroom when I noticed a couple of stained floor tiles. I cleaned them then went and cleaned a wall section by the bathroom door. I returned the cleaner to the kitchen then noticed the dog dish. It needed to be scrubbed. I did that then came back to the den to watch the game. Considering I had gone to the kitchen just to get a Coke, I got a lot done, but I forgot the Coke. I’m a bit afraid to go again. Who knows what I’ll find?

 

“A trophy carries dust. Memories last forever.”

February 7, 2017

I am watching the Patriots and their duck boat rolling rally ride through the streets of Boston. Earlier it was snowing, and now it is raining, but the crowds don’t care. The fans are standing along the sides of the streets 20 or more deep. The players are having a wonderful time yelling, clapping and dancing. The confetti blowing all over makes it difficult to see but Tom Brady stands out. He is in the front boat holding the Lombardi trophy and waving, a huge smile on his face. The crowd loves him. Lots of school desks are empty today. Kids will remember this parade the whole of their lives.

Gracie is less reluctant to go down the back steps into the yard. She knows I’m there. I stand in front of her as she goes down front paws first one step at a time. She runs all over the yard glad to be off the leash.

When I was a kid, I followed the Red Sox and the Celtics. The poor Sox were hapless, and it was easy to get a good seat even an hour before the game. I remember sitting in a box seat behind the dugout, empty seats around me. The Sox, perennial losers, were not a great draw. I did see a moment in history when Bob Tillman, the catcher, tried to cut off Al Kaline stealing second and hit Johnny Wyatt, relief pitcher, in the head.

I listened to Celtics games on the radio. Johnny Most was the best announcer of them all. I used to hide my transistor radio under the covers so I could listen to the Celts play the L.A. Lakers, perennial foes. Even when the Celts were on TV we listened to Johnny Most. I still remember him screaming, “Havlicek stole the ball,” in the 1965 Eastern Conference Finals when the Sox were only a point ahead and Philly had the ball. I went to Celtics games as I could take the bus and the subway to North Station. They were often sold out. The Celts were perennial winners.

I have never seen the Pats live, but I have watched every game on TV. I’m okay with that. I get to stay warm and comfy. The kitchen and bathroom are both down the hall. I do love to go to Fenway especially for night games. It is a magical place with the green grass and all the lights.

My mother was not into sports and didn’t understand the rules of any game, but if we watched, she watched. I remember her cheering for the wrong football team, an easy mistake. We didn’t say anything. It was great to see her be a fan.

“My grandfather’s clock was too large for the shelf, So it stood ninety years on the floor”

September 3, 2015

The judge has nullified the four game suspension of Tom Brady. The league will appeal. Enough said!

The hot day today is no different from the last few hot days. A breeze? Nope, not even a small one. Last night we had enough of a breeze to ring the chimes hanging from branches in the back yard. Not today. Everything is quiet. I can hear only Gracie’s snores.

After the first couple of days, school became routine. The fun of a new lunch box and new pencil case wore off quickly. The school day never really changed from year to year. Classes, lunch, recess then more classes was the order of the day. Once a week we had art and music, and they were the only deviations from the traditional subjects. I remember in music we learned how to read the lines of the treble clef: EGBDF: every good boy does fine. That has stayed with me all these years. I also still remember the clef spaces: FACE. That I remember has proven to be totally useless as not once has either come up in conversation. I’ve used mnemonics for so many things but these two and HOMES seem to have lives of their own.

We learned songs in music. My Grandfather’s Clock was one of them. I knew all the words but didn’t really understand what they meant. I would have asked all sorts of questions if the nun ever called for a Q&A. How did the clock know? What did the old man die of? What’s a pennyweight? Who was watching the clock when the old man died and why is he called the old man? How come he’s not called Grandfather? Instead, I remained ignorant of the intricacies of the story and sang along anyway. I really only liked the song because you got to pause at the line. “It stopped short – never to go again,” We all waited just for that line. The only other song I remember is Up on the Housetop. Because we all still believed in Santa Claus, it was etched in our memories. I’ll never forget:

“Ho, ho ho! Who wouldn’t go? Ho, ho ho! Who wouldn’t go?
Up on the housetop, click, click, click
Down through the chimney with old Saint Nick”

Read more:  Christmas Song – Up On The Housetop Lyrics | MetroLyrics

“If my mother put on a helmet and shoulder pads and a uniform that wasn’t the same as the one I was wearing, I’d run over her if she was in my way. And I love my mother.”

January 23, 2012

When I woke up, I thought it was raining. I could hear drops falling to the deck from the roof, but when I came downstairs, I saw it wasn’t rain at all. It was the sound of snow melting from the eaves and the roof. It is 42° and will stay warm for the next few days. We are back in the middle of our strange winter.

My headache is gone and my teeth have stopped aching. The Patriots’ AFC game yesterday was the culprit which caused the pain. It was an amazing game, not a good game, but an amazing game, the sort that doesn’t let you relax, the sort that keeps your stomach in knots. We were on our feet with hands in the air calling each touchdown and we’d sit right back down to moan the turnovers, the lost opportunities and the threes and out. It came down to a few seconds and a kicker as to whether or not we’d go into overtime. We, my friends and I and I suspect most people watching, held our collective breaths once the ball was kicked. We watched the field goal go left of the posts, and we cheered. Bring on the Superbowl!

I am a Tom Brady fan and became even more of one yesterday. When asked about the game, Tom said, “Well I sucked pretty bad today but our defense saved us. I’m gonna go out and try and do a better job in a couple of weeks.” You have to love an honest man.

My father was a football fan. On Thanksgiving he had the record time for finishing his entire meal, including a turkey leg, so he could rush back to TV and football. In those days, I shutter to admit, he was a Giants fan because there were no Patriots.

My father was a screamer. He’d yell at poorly executed plays and moan loudly at fumbles or sacks. It didn’t matter that he was alone watching the games. He was perfectly connected with the TV and the action on the field and didn’t need anyone else. If we happened to join him, he’d just point to the TV, turn to us and ask if we’d seen the play that had him screaming. He didn’t care whether we answered.

When the Patriots won their first Superbowl, we all talked about my Dad and how much he would have loved his hometown team taking the trophy. In two weeks I’ll be thinking of him again when the Giants play the Patriots. I have no doubt as to where his allegiance would be.