I didn't see England get humiliated by Sri Lanka in the quarter finals of the World Cup, but then it's a miracle we got as far as we did: we peaked in the final game of the Ashes series, and it was clear then that the rest of the winter was an anti-climax.
I didn't see the England football team beat almost the only country in the competition (Wales) which could have played worse than we did.
And I didn't see Cambridge lose to Oxford in the boat race - as if I care one way or the other.
What I did watch over the weekend was the Sox play the Orioles in one of the final Spring Training games. And we also lost.
No big deal? Well, maybe not. Except that this was our tenth straight loss.
Now, I know it's Spring Training. I know it's not supposed to matter. And I heard Jerry Remy recounting a conversation with a Sox fan in Florida. "It's not about the Ws and Ls" Jerry told him. The Sox fan merely shook his head in resignation. He wanted Ws. He wanted sharpness. He wanted pride in the uniform.
So do I.
So does Tito. As he said, "You're talking to a guy that cheats when he's playing his kids in Monopoly, so I want to win".
So why aren't we?
If we win in Texas and then again in Cleveland in the first week of April; if - crucially - we beat the Evil Empire and the Rays back at Fenway with your correspondent in attendance, then no-one will remember any Spring Training stats.
I'm also aware that not once have we fielded our first choice team, the real Town Nine. (Love that phrase.)
It's just that, right now, I'm a tad apprehensive about the coming season.
On paper, we're the best team in the majors. On the diamond, we're a long way back.
The only consolation is that the worst team in the Grapefruit League is the Y*****s.
Losers!
Today's listening: Peter Green, fresh from playing and tripping with Jerry, transforms Fleetwood Mac in a 1969 gig at the Cue Club in Goteburg, Sweden.
Today's reading: The Memory Chalet by Tony Judt. A posthumously published volume of essays recommended by Chris Dark. More on this soon I suspect - it's not a book to be rushed.
I didn't see the England football team beat almost the only country in the competition (Wales) which could have played worse than we did.
And I didn't see Cambridge lose to Oxford in the boat race - as if I care one way or the other.
What I did watch over the weekend was the Sox play the Orioles in one of the final Spring Training games. And we also lost.
No big deal? Well, maybe not. Except that this was our tenth straight loss.
Now, I know it's Spring Training. I know it's not supposed to matter. And I heard Jerry Remy recounting a conversation with a Sox fan in Florida. "It's not about the Ws and Ls" Jerry told him. The Sox fan merely shook his head in resignation. He wanted Ws. He wanted sharpness. He wanted pride in the uniform.
So do I.
So does Tito. As he said, "You're talking to a guy that cheats when he's playing his kids in Monopoly, so I want to win".
So why aren't we?
If we win in Texas and then again in Cleveland in the first week of April; if - crucially - we beat the Evil Empire and the Rays back at Fenway with your correspondent in attendance, then no-one will remember any Spring Training stats.
I'm also aware that not once have we fielded our first choice team, the real Town Nine. (Love that phrase.)
It's just that, right now, I'm a tad apprehensive about the coming season.
On paper, we're the best team in the majors. On the diamond, we're a long way back.
The only consolation is that the worst team in the Grapefruit League is the Y*****s.
Losers!
Today's listening: Peter Green, fresh from playing and tripping with Jerry, transforms Fleetwood Mac in a 1969 gig at the Cue Club in Goteburg, Sweden.
Today's reading: The Memory Chalet by Tony Judt. A posthumously published volume of essays recommended by Chris Dark. More on this soon I suspect - it's not a book to be rushed.
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