You Never Forget Your Second

Twenty-three years ago tonight I got to do something I haven't done since. I got to watch my team become champions of baseball. I didn't know it would be the last time I'd have that pleasure for at least twenty-four years. I wasn't thinking about what the future held that Monday night, October 27, 1986, at least not beyond my ability to complete some long-avoided work overnight and head to the ticker-tape parade in the morning before dragging myself to my standing every-other-Tuesday freelance gig in the afternoon. The future didn't exist as Jesse Orosco fired strike three past Marty Barrett. Everything was that moment. 1986 was completely about getting to that moment — and now we were there. The 162-game romp, the exhaustion in Houston, the stay of execution versus Boston...and now the reward. It wasn't about the parade or the t-shirts I'd buy or the videocassette they'd release. It was about the moment and the satisfaction. I had waited throug...