In This Case, Absence Really Does Make the Heart Grow Fonder
As the years zip by, here’s what I miss most:
Watching Terry O’Reilly in the corners.
Watching candlepin bowling behind a tray table.
Lechmere’s sporting goods department.
Calder’s record department.
The Old Boston Garden.
Watching Vladimir Guerrero swing a bat.
Watching Tiger Woods in his prime.
Lull and Hartford’s reject rack.
Playing pond hockey, with boots as goal posts.
Betting quinellas on a summer night at Seabrook.
Watching Larry Bird be Larry Bird.
Watching Devin Hester return a kickoff.
Life before cellphones.
Roxie, Bailey, Dewey and Zoey (my pups).
Watching Refrigerator Perry “run” the football.
Watching Luis Tiant’s magical wind-up.
Haffenreffer Private Stock (Green Death).
Goalies without masks (yes I’m that old).
Watching Billy Riley’s ULowell Chiefs vs. Merrimack.
Watching Gorilla Monsoon, Killer Kowalski and their ilk.
My old MGB.
My old motorcycles.
My old Snurfer.
Watching Pedro on full tilt.
Watching Bill Parcells argue with referees.
Covering the New England Tea Men.
The smell of new baseball gloves at Sears.
Street hockey with boots as goal posts.
Watching McEnroe, Borg and Connors at their peak.
Watching cliff diving on ABC’s Wide World of Sports.
Climbing trees (do kids do that anymore?).
Ricky’s Dog House in Kearney Square.
Watching Micky Ward and Dick Eklund work out.
Watching Bobby Christakos throw a wheelhouse right.
Brothers 4 in Nashua.
Fishing for kibbies and perch.
Watching the Morris brothers rip off 50-yard TD runs.
Watching Don Cherry argue with referees.
Stow Acres at $14 South, $16 North.
The old Sun All-Star banquets.
Watching Zola Budd run barefoot around the track.
Watching Ingemar Stenmark in the downhill.
Augusta National (five trips in the ’90s).
Dennis Whitton’s email address is firstname.lastname@example.org