Notes on the Red Sox – Angels Game

I wish I could find a way to do the things I know I need to do. I wish I knew what I was looking for. I wish it didn’t all seem so pointless. I wish I didn’t fall in love with fantasies and dream of girls who if they were real wouldn’t dream of me.

But these are all backgound noise to the game of the moment, 11th inning of a tie game between the Boston Red Sox and Los Angeles Angels. I find myself drawn to the Angels, though I have been a lifelong Red Sox fan, my allegiance the last tie to my short childhood in Providence. Those days were long ago.

I think about them in between pitches, and dream about them while the commercials roll. All the girls in my life, the ones I love unrequited, the ones who love me unrequited, the girls I once loved and who loved me, passionately and without care. The girls I loved only once.

The is the land of opportunity, city teeming with girls with heartbreak smiles. I shouldn’t worry so much. I worry too much about life and love I guess. That is what my friends say. Still I sit here lonely tv watching dreaming of the last girl whose smile made me sing. She doesn’t love me though, but that never stopped obsession from creeping into my overactive imagination.

I think I want the pain, I want the losers of my past to commiserate with, I can’t stand this unrelatable success. Angels score, I can’t help but root for the underdog. Still I feel a pang of regret for my now unrelatable past, future comes, trickles in like a tidal wave. And so things go, another pitch, another pitch, swing, swing, miss or hit.