Let's start with Mr. Barry Bonds. I seem to be bucking the trend, but I was happy that Barry broke the record (finally) tonight. Don't get me wrong, life would've been just dandy had a sports institution like Henry Aaron continued to hold the title. But whether it is with an asterisk or not, and I am a firm believer in innocent until proven guilty, America must wake up with the rationalization that Bonds is now the home run champion of all time.
Whatever that means.If for the only reason I don't have to put up with the "Chasing Aaron" segments of ESPN or the racially charged filler of why whites don't want Bonds to break the record, I'm glad he did it. The guy may be no humanitarian, but he and his family have endured scrutiny unrivaled in the modern sports universe. There was nothing heartwarming or "I'll always remember this moment" about watching him hit the home run live (aside from perhaps the fact that the guy who caught the ball and is assuredly going to be a few million dollars richer survived the scrum with his New York Mets jersey still intact), but give credit where credit is due.
If it comes out that Bonds has done steroids (which may never happen no matter what we the audience can presume from our couches), then decide what to do later. But right now, Barry Bonds is the greatest home run hitter of all time, and I'm fine with that.
Now on to our next piece: a weekend starring the Dave Matthews Band. As I posted earlier, seeing Dave isn't about the thrill of standing 400 yards away from him. It is a rite of passage for teens in Connecticut for the experience itself. The whole experience.
This year my buddies Rob and Pete and I drove up early to get choice parking for the tailgate before the show, which began at 7 or 830, depending on your desire to see the opening act. We arrived just before 1 and it wasn't long before we noticed a small beached of fellow Dave enthusiasts at a Midas station a block away from the venue. Joining them, we set up our command center and as the afternoon progressed, the party just evolved around us, sprawling to other vacant and not-so-vacant lots. While there, we met many new acquaintances as well as one's we planned on joining as the day drew onwards until the show started. Eventually after much wandering of tailgates and camaraderie shared over grills, we made our way into the Meadows as Dave was just starting. The show was fantastic as always, especially tunes Ants Marching and All Along the Watchtower.
In the end, the experience made me realize how privileged I am that I have such amazing experiences under my belt and how easy it is to take these moments for granted. I feel guilty at times for getting worked up about small inconveniences when I know that deep down, I'm still alright. I have amazing friends. I get to tramp all across the state in the name of a good time. I'm lucky enough to have amazing gifts and opportunities to use them. Life couldn't be any better.
As cheesy as that was, its a convenient transition into my final lament about my final days of teenage life. I'm not sure if it's normal to mourn the last moments of being 19, but I mean from here on out theres no excuse of the childish and playful "oops" moments I can laugh off as being inconsequential. This is it... the 20's. Wow, I feel... old? I always liked the idea of looking forward to the "best time of your life." I could always look forward to something better on the horizon. I guess I'm just a sucker for optimism. But now I'm living those moments and passing them by. Before you know it, after another decade, I'll be wondering where it all went. Or at least thats what they tell me.
Until next time...
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