Listen to the Radio

So, all kidding about being away earlier aside, going home this weekend was great.  I got to pick Edenic apples in the rain and bake a pie with them.  I got to see Little Jed Lowrie hit a grand slam from the left-hand side of the plate.  I got to spend a lot of time with my family and friends.  And I got to listen to a lot of sports talk radio in the car with my father.  I find the whole phenomenon of sports talk radio kind of mysterious and fascinating.  What the folks calling in clearly want more than anything else is affirmation: I can't even count the number of calls that ended in "...right?"  I know the answer to this fascination is that I really should go watch Big Fan.  It's on the list, with a billion other things.  But I think in a weird way, in the midst of all the bravado and bullshit, there's something very tender about the callers.  Maybe that's just a Boston thing, but I bet it's common in smaller markets as well.  Like all kinds of love, caring for a team means making yourself intensely vulnerable.