Since moving to Providence one year ago I’ve been accused of being a Red Sox fan by Yankee lovers and a Yankee lover by some of Sox nation. Truth is I don’t cheer for or against either team. I am happily caught up in the middle of one of the greatest rivalries in sports as a completely unbiased journalist.
That said I was cheering like crazy for Derek Jeter last weekend as he completed his quest to join the 3,000 hit club. Love’em or hate’em you can not deny the storied history stockpiled in the Bronx through years of dominating the competition behind a collection of stars and a checkbook bloated by the biggest revenue generator in all of sports.
Speaking of money and star power, Jeter didn’t get the deal he was looking for last offseason but ultimately his love of putting on the pinstripes every day won out over the extra three years $100 million. (granted you can make the argument that even the Yankees couldn’t afford to give a 37 year old with declining numbers a six-year deal) What he didn’t get from the Yankees he gave back 100 million fold to those of us caught up in the summertime nostalgia of this great game.
I admit I got chills as Jeter’s career was officially linked to those that live on forever in Monument Park. I can read about Ruth, Gehrig, DiMaggio and Mantle. Jeter, I can see with my own eyes. I gave up having favorite players at about the same time I gave up pinning my pants (6th grade) but moments, as they say, can last a lifetime. No matter what team you cheer for, DJ/3K is a day to remember for baseball fans from every town, region or nation. Maybe even Red Sox nation.*
*Then again, probably not
Have you every wondered why you’re supposed to yell “Fore!” after you’ve drilled a golf ball at an unsuspecting group of people three fairways over? I do, so I looked it up.
It apparently comes from some British military term meaning “look ahead” and has been in use since the late 1800’s. Another theory has it linked to Gaelic, which fascinates me because of my Irish heritage and the fact that the only Gaelic I know is “I’ll have another Guinness, thank you”,
I bring this up because for the first time since… well… ever I am golfing on a regular basis. I’ve always avoided the game because A) I have no money B) I hate getting outplayed by unathletic slobs C) I am poor.
What changed this summer is that I’ve found a 9-hole course within walking distance from my house and here’s a change. It’s actually cheap. Also, I’ve found a playing partner of equal ability, the weather guy Pete Mangione. (by equal I mean we both go through about eight sleeves of balls in nine holes)
So far so good as long as I keep posting my handicap at about 30 and I warn all squirrels to clear the trees along the fairway. So if you ever hit the links in the East Greenwich area and hear Fore! as a ball whizzes by your ear, don’t be surprised to look up and see me with a friendly smile and wave.