Sunday, May 14, 2006


As the floodwaters rise, with the mighty Shawsheen River expanding past its normal 3 foot width, this exercise begins, composed of equal parts ego and boredom. After almost 30 years of not keeping my thoughts to myself, communicating is an impossible habit to break, even if there's nobody listening.

Hell, a nonexistent audience is the darkest hidden fear of every newspaper writer, and if those of us in sports felt that way, imagine the poor dance critic or the suffering souls covering the Boston City Council. So I might as well start in cyberspace with the worst case scenario-a bulletin delivered to no one but myself.

That way, this enterprise will produce some astonishing growth rate figures, just by nagging my relatives.


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