I was at the exact perfect age — high school seniordom — when the Red Sox achieved that wonder of wonders and won the world series for the first time in 87 years. To understand how momentous that was for Bostonians, you really had to have been there — my headmistress declared a day off from school, there were parades and people dressed up in Red Sox outfits every day that week.

The curse was reversed! Even more than that miracle, though, was the miracle that some people who had less than zero interest in sports (like yours truly) suddenly became excited by the games.

All of us, no matter what our sports background, were on the edge of our seats as the Red Sox struggled to beat the Yankees, our mortal enemy, and then the Cardinals. Each won game was one more day we were still alive, and I still remember the excited discussions at school. People who had never held a baseball in their lives were talking strategy and statistics; Red Sox caps came out in every possible color.

It reminded me of how fun and exciting it can be to pretend to be a tomboy even for a little while, especially in the summer, and get your head and heart into a game. Sports are made not just by the playing, but by the watching. Every great athlete dreams not just of winning, but of having the crowd go wild. Read More »

I guess Boston commuters have never seen a female football player before.

Okay. I know my bag’s big, and I know it smells, and I know when the T pulls into Park Street, the jersey-clad, half-crunked Red Sox fans are not going to part like the Red Sea. But every practice night, every game day, it’s the same ritual once they notice the insignia: Boston Militia Women’s Football. Stares. Whispers. Fingers pointing. Feet shuffling. General anxiety and confusion. And when there are two of us, well, that’s just too much to handle. Even small children cry.

Before the corpse-sized bag, I carried my helmet and shoulder pads in one hand, my cleats in the other. Somehow, that warranted less stares, whispers, pointing and shuffling. Mostly because those jersey-clad, half-crunked Red Sox fans seemed to think I played lacrosse. Without a stick. But a female lacrosse player, that’s believable. Female football players? They’re myths, like unicorns, and Bigfoot. Read More »

Now that baseball season has started (Go Red Sox! Ahem, sorry), you’ll probably be finding yourself sitting around your friend’s apartment watching the game on his or her big screen TV. You know it’s rude to show up empty-handed, but what can you bring to a 1 p.m. game on a Sunday when you woke up at noon with a raging hangover? I have the perfect solution.

This taco dip is one of the simplest and cheapest things to make…and will guarantee you invites to any gathering. Not only do I make it for all sports-watching events I attend, but my friend has already asked that I make a huge one for her wedding. It’s that good. Read More »