The last time anyone (save for close family and friends) heard from me was Sept. 10 when I admonished everyone to stop fretting over the Patriots and enjoy watching the Red Sox.
That was more than a month ago, and a lot can change in that time. Today, there are no more Red Sox to enjoy – at least until next year. And what do you know! The Patriots are worth caring about again.
Actually, I had to practice discipline and exemplary behavior during all this time, incarcerated, as I was, in a Lynn nursing home rehabbing from a broken back.
You read that correctly. Sept. 15, I fell in my bathroom and broke a rib and a bone in my back. Coupled with the two busted ribs in August (courtesy of another fall), that’s four broken bones this summer.
I have to plead my case here. I’m not any more or less clumsy than anyone else – just old and unlucky. Still, I’d better have met my quota.
I had to be nice because I had a roommate who didn’t care for sports, and he never would have understood there was a stark, mad, raving lunatic in the bed next to him because Rhamondre Stevenson fumbled again.
There were enough reasons to grumble. The first happened Friday, Sept. 28 when NESN didn’t carry the Red Sox-Tigers game because AppleTV had it. Oh, wait, never mind. My hospital TV didn’t get NESN either. I grumbled and groused and followed along on my phone. And pouted the whole next day because I didn’t get to see the win that put the Sox in the playoffs when it happened.
Next came the following Tuesday when Aroldis Chapman loaded the bases with Yankees – none out and a 3-1 ninth-inning lead. Thank God he got out of that. My first real temptation to kick up a fuss was the next night, when the Red Sox could have put the Yankees to sleep, but didn’t. Bad fielding and stupid baserunning cost them the game, and I had to lie in bed and be silent and still, lest I startle the guy next to me. I hit my fist against the mattress more than once. I also got no sleep that night.
I didn’t even watch the third game.
Then, there was the following Sunday night, when the Patriots did the improbable, going to Buffalo and beating the Bills. Though there are always reasons to go crazy when watching sports, this one was sheer joy. I forgot myself and bellowed when Drake Maye, while still in the process of being sacked, somehow escaped and hit Stefon Diggs with a first-down pass. Honestly, one should get a reprieve for that one. It was a spectacular play.
This all reminded me of when I had knee surgery back in 2004, got furious at a dropped pass, and screamed “CATCH THE BLANKETY-BLANK BALL!!” A nurse had to come into the room and warn me to quiet down or she’d unplug the TV. I don’t think she liked me very much.
I’m home now. Released on good behavior – unless I’m watching sports on TV.
An enthusiastic shoutout goes to the nurses, therapists, and staff members at the Abbott House in Lynn for taking care of, and putting up with, me. I enjoyed everybody there, and marveled at the sunny dispositions most of the people had under awfully trying circumstances. It turns out I covered one of the nurse’s assistants’ sons while he played football at Swampscott High, and she told everyone else. I was a celebrity.
I arrived there Thursday, Sept. 18 unable to get out of bed, and in less than a week, I had taken my first steps. By the time I left last week, I had to hang onto a walker, but at least I could walk.
I’d also like to thank my wife Linda and son Andrew; as well as my sister and brother-in-law Jayne and Steve Zaya for their many visits. I also had a bevy of women who came to see me. I counted seven over the course of three weeks. I swear, the attendants were shaking their heads. One of them said, “you have had more visitors than anyone I’ve ever seen.”
Thank you to you all.
