LUCK. One of those attributes you either have or you don’t. Period.
Some folks say you make your own luck. I think it’s part of your DNA makeup. One of those sayings I’ve heard, and even said a number of times, particularly as a lifelong, died-in-the-wool Boston Red Sox fan is “if it wasn’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” Normally that phrase was uttered after a long season watching the SOX play well all season and then fall victims to the pinstriped crew from the Bronx. The name Grady Little immediately comes to mind. He had the opportunity to pull Pedro off the mound but was influenced by the multiple Cy Young award winner and the rest was history. Luck really had nothing to do with the decision Manager Little made that evening – that was just a poor management decision which he paid for when the season ended.
For the rest of Red Sox Nation we suffered another season without a championship and we started wondering where our “luck” had gone. The ’03 season was a tough one and living out on the East coast made life even more difficult where SOX/NYY games went long into the evening, sometimes early AM hours and as fans we could care less where Mr. Little wound up after the season was over as we were the collection that remembered Pedro giving up additional hits late into the evening. For us to find luck we would have to visit the Garden and take a look at “Lucky” the Boston Celtics iconic mascot and then look into the rafters and start counting the banners … there’s quite a few of them up there.
As I sit here on the couch this morning I consider how lucky I am as an individual each and every day. My wife of twenty-two years was just delivered breakfast in bed and as I walked upstairs with the two breakfast plates I saw our youngest tucked in next to my wife and the ability for me to deliver breakfast to both of them on this gorgeous northern California morning gives me an idea as to how lucky I am. This has nothing to do with the Irish that goes through my veins; it’s all about the decisions made in getting here.
Cancer is no longer in my wife’s system and each night before she climbs into bed she administers her oral hormonal therapy with a daily pill of Tamoxifen; no chemo … no radiation, just a smile and after leaving her surgeon this Friday she was told her next appointment is not for another six months. NICE!
Her physical therapy is going nicely and the next big appointment on her schedule is her reconstruction for early October where she and Dr. Goodman conduct a one day visit for the reconstruction for her new breasts. So here we are, both at the half-century mark, have beaten breast cancer and a new set of breasts on the horizon.
I don’t need the Celtic icon to let me know how lucky I am. There’s a lot of work, a lot of determination, a ton of love, and another healthy dose of hope that goes into making things happen the way you want.
This morning, hell it’s already noon, I’m watching one of my favorite football games on the NFL channel; 2002 Oakland Raiders vs. New England PATRIOTS at Foxboro in the “snow bowl” where “luck” and perhaps, just perhaps a bad call from the officials made things just possible for the PATRIOTS to beat the Raiders and then move onto the AFC Championship and eventually the Super Bowl.
I remember where I was that night watching that game and while the “fumble/tuck rule” was being reviewed by the officials upstairs I was holding my breath as I felt all the eyes in JR’z Sports Grill were on me. PATRIOTS fans are a minority in South Carolina and that night after I jumped up onto the table and dropped my trousers after the favorable call was announced I knew LUCK was on our side. The call made is one of those that Oakland Raider fans continue to relive with disdain, disgust, and probably why a local looked at me last football season while I was wearing my PATS hoodie in the supermarket and commented “you’re one brave individual” … I just laughed. My fists were cocked inside my pouch (just in case) but I laughed it off. I’d been in his shoes so I know exactly how he felt.
Sometimes those calls just go your way. I won’t spent the rest of this blog talking about the outcome of that AFC divisional playoff game but for you Raider fans reading this you also know you had a number of chances to change the outcome of that game and I’ll leave it at that. You’ll be happy to know I was kicked out of JR’z Sports Grill that evening and asked to never return which I was saddened about but the memory of that evening will live with me forever, and as my two ladies relax upstairs digesting their home made breakfast they too know how lucky things are here in wine country.
My buddy Joey who lives and works in Martha’s Vineyard texted me yesterday to let me know “he just kissed the Stanley Cup”. The Boston Bruins and Lord Stanley’s Cup was in Edgartown, MA yesterday and he and his family were there to see it, touch it, kiss it and now possess that memory all of us in New England would love to have. My internal response when Joey let me know was “that lucky bastard” and I feel lucky to be his friend. Something tells me I was the first one he texted.
Now … if we could just turn some of this luck into a winning lottery ticket … more to follow.
Hope all is well wherever you happen to be today.
Hoping LUCK is always on your side.
Cheers,
Papa
