Efterklang Mirador

the Red Sox are the new Yankees

"With the exodus under way and the Angels about to be swept at home, a chant went up behind the visitors' dugout: Bos-ton Red Sox. Bos-ton Red Sox. Such a mantra, this hymn without harmony, didn't come as much of a surprise. After all, America has become a Red Sox Nation, Boston now being baseball's biggest draw.

Rather, what was stunning about the drone, is how much the droners sounded like Yankees fans.

If there really was a Curse, as Red Sox fans like to say, perhaps it came with a codicil: You become what you hate.

With the Yankees now vanquished and leaderless, and their principal owner's faculties in question, the Red Sox can no longer be portrayed with much sympathy. The sentimental underpinnings on which the Red Sox Nation was created owed everything to that team in the Bronx. The Red Sox can be underdogs only in relation to the Yankees.

But now that notion has perished. The Red Sox are the best team in baseball. They should beat the Cleveland Indians and win the World Series without too much difficulty. Still, it's difficult to root for a team that can pay $14 million per to J.D. Drew, who, by the way, won't even start in Game 1 of the ALCS.

According to Opening Day salary figures, the Red Sox began the season as a $143 million enterprise (this excludes the $6 million salary they'd pay a mid-season pickup Eric Gagne). The Indians, by contrast, had a $61 million payroll. That gap — approximately $82 million — is considerably more than the gap between the Red Sox and the Yankees.

The Yankees have committed any number of profligate and mercenary acts (the $28 million prorated salary for Roger Clemens comes first to mind, though Jason Giambi and Carl Pavano are up there, too). Still, a good chunk of the Yankee payroll has gone to proven players who never played for another major league team: Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera, Jorge Posada, Hideki Matsui and, in years past, Bernie Williams.

The Red Sox, by contrast, have not exactly been models of continuity. Julio Lugo, for example, is their fourth starting shortstop since 2004, when they won the World Series with Orlando Cabrera. Of the 25 players on Boston's World Series roster, only eight remain with the team: Manny Ramirez, David Ortiz, Curt Schilling, Mike Timlin, Jason Varitek, Tim Wakefield, Doug Mirabelli and Kevin Youkilis (who didn't get a World Series at-bat). Of those eight, it bears mention, only two made their big league debuts with Boston.

It's been almost five years since Red Sox president Larry Lucchino labeled the Yankees "The Evil Empire." It was a great line, and sportswriters everywhere remain indebted to him. But let's frame its context. His utterance followed the Yankees' signing of Jose Contreras, a move that once again demonstrated the Empire's capacity for expensive folly. Still, one imagines Lucchino vowing it would never happen again.

In 2007, the Red Sox outbid everyone, including the Yankees, for the rights to Daisuke Matsuzaka. Those rights came at a price of $51 million. And though that figure is not reflected in the Red Sox payroll, it represents almost 84 percent of the Indians' Opening Day roster budget, which was 23rd in the majors. Then again, Cleveland is almost a big market team compared to the Rockies and the Diamondbacks (25th and 26th in payroll at $54 million and $52 million, respectively).

But back to the ALCS, which begins tonight at Fenway Park. Perhaps you shall hear from those venerable voices of Red Sox Nation, Doris Kearns and Stephen King. Or maybe it will be a newcomer, like Kevin Garnett. They will extol the virtues of Boston's baseball team. But what are those, exactly?

Save for a withering owner, the Red Sox are not at all unlike their former nemesis. They are an empire of their own now. And if you rooted for the Red Sox because they weren't the Yankees, aren't you now obligated to root for the Indians?

Do the math. Add the salaries of C.C. Sabathia, Fausto Carmona, Grady Sizemore, Franklin Guttierrez, Jhonny Peralta, Chris Gomez, Rafael Betancourt, Rafael Perez and Ryan Garko.

Now what do you have?

About a half million less than J.D. Drew."

-Mark Kriegel, 14 October 2007

I am a Natural Born Leader

I took my friends to a corn maze today. We got lost. Then we got out again. I like to think that I was a major component of our success. Why? Because I am a leader and a doer!

And the people were fun too! Amy and Bri and Steph and Aaron and especially Mandy! And even the punks that ditched us and left us for dead among the stalks of corn (i.e. Skyler and Taylor and stupid-Mark). What a great group! Also, I hate physics.

Have You Ever

Have you ever...

Hated being right?
Anticipated something painful and inevitable?
Been crushed?

There is a girl that I think I let myself care about a bit too much a bit too soon. And it's new for me: actually having interest in someone; actually wanting some kind of relationship. I am very attracted to her and I love being in her company.

But I felt like I was a lot more into it than her. And I was right.

Bless her heart for being honest with me. It takes a lot of courage to say what she did to me. She broke my heart. It's not an easy thing to do- I know from experience, it really messes you up afterwards- but she did it. And I am actually very grateful.

But I am also hurt! Hurt in a very new and very uncomfortable way!

I somewhat expected it from the beginning, however, because of a theory I have about life. About the different worlds of our different lives. That is, she lives in a different world from me: with different friends and different associates. I was just not established in her world. I mean, I am not thought of in the same light as a roommate or a friend she has known for months, mostly because we just met three weeks ago.

All the pieces and branches of her life intertwine. I just grow alone, somewhere next to it.

Basically, I have no place in her world. I could only have a place if she brought me in. But she didn't. She has her reasons, I'm sure, but the bottom line is...

She didn't give me a chance.

Failing at Important Stuff

One of the strange things in life is this: When you totally understand how something should be done, but still manage to mess it up.

It's horrible. You're sitting in W111 of the Benson building taking an O Chem quiz. You're asked to show the reaction mechanism of the hydrogenation of a certain alkene. You know this nonsense! You've spent irreplaceable quantities of your life studying it! Regardless; you can't seem to put it down on paper.

I know I should be rehabbing my ankle cause' I know that will make it heal faster. But I just don't because I really hate doing it. Same could be said for any number of things in life; things that you understand are very important to do but still manage to not get done.

I feel like I have a great understanding of the psyche of my fellow-men. I love to theorize about why people act a certain way and how they would respond in any given situation. I am usually, nearly right (stated that way with the intent of modesty, because I am almost always right). I know, in my mind, the proper way to treat everybody I know. I know exactly what to do. I know exactly how to act and what to say and when to say it. It's been labeled as my "charm" and I know from experience that I can charm anyone's mom into pushing me to date their daughter, which I usually don't cause' I hate dating. This is a pretty big accomplishment when you look as much like a bum as I do most of the time.

So... when it really counts, when I should really make things play out the way they naturally should, when it's important to do it right...

I FAIL!

Guess I'm not a clutch performer... at all!

[time passes]...

And then I go and get 102% on my Anatomy midterm.

Maybe I only really fail at things I don't understand.

So, maybe I don't actually understand relationships and the complexities of being in heavy like with somebody. Lord have mercy.

Snow

Yesterday I went up to the mountains with my friend. I had been pushing for us to take a scenic drive for about a week or so, before all the flora and fauna disappeared for the winter. Everything was going to be super and perfect; warm weather, clear skies, colorful landscape. She'd probably even want to fall into my arms because she'd be so struck by the perfect beauty of it all.

Well, most everything had died. And, it was really cold. Like, really REALLY cold. We found that great scenic spot I had picked out before. It was littered with paintball shells. We sat on a rock to eat some lunch. It started to snow. Our fingers froze...

We sat in the snow. We sat there as the snow fell on us.

On top of it all, she didn't even have shoes on, I was battling a relapse of Typhoid Fever, and she turned out to be a Red Sox fan.

Awesome.

and that the Sun will Rise

I have a desire.

I am not yet sure what it is, but I know there is something that is pushing me forward. I feel compelled.

Life is beautiful to me. There are so many places I want to go, there are so many things I want to do, there are so many people I want to love, and all of this before I die. There is someone I want to become again.

When I lived in Africa, I got sunburned on Christmas Day. And the next day it rained until my roof caved in. This world is a crazy place! When I walked along the streets I played with the children, soccer and cricket. We laughed and they rubbed my skin and called me names. People would touch my hands. We fell in love: I with the people and the people with me. When they told me their stories I would listen and pray to God I would remember all of them. I want to remember all of them.

The point is that I was alive there. I was born from the combination of Anesu's childish smiles, acacia trees through a combi window, and Charity Chikwadzi's tears because I was moving away. From Christmas sunburns, sadza and vegetables, and soccer matches with black children who called me Wayne Rooney. From the hearts, lungs, and minds of the people I loved more than myself, I became someone I loved.

But I was robbed of my life; it was stolen from me! I contracted Typhoid Fever after 20 months and I started to die. Physically, I was dying: I had to come home and suffer here until the doctors could figure out how to fix my deteriorating body. I had that fear of death that you never really have until it is getting way to close.

And the worst of all is that my soul- that part of me that came to fruition in the sub-savanna of Zimbabwe and Zambia- has left me. I was murdered! I have spent the years since silently crying and wishing that I could feel that warmth again.

I was born in Africa and I died in Africa.

I am now praying that I can resurrect my soul from the ashes. I know that I can. I know that it will take everything I have, but I know that I can.

I know that the clouds will clear and that the sun will rise.
And that the sun will rise.