“What’s new?” Freddy asked as he wedged into his side of the booth for our weekly get-together.
“Ortiz homered for the first time this year,” I said.
“Long time coming,” Freddy said.
“Lessons to be learned by the rest of the Red Sox,” I said.
“Lots of lessons for everyone in the past couple of weeks,” Freddy said.
“If you’re referring to the marathon, you’re dead on,” I said.
“Watch your tongue; there was too much of the dead already,” Freddy said.
“Figure of speech,” I said. “Anyway, tell me it’s not great that the Sox are leading the pack.’’
“Absolutely right on,” Freddy said. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. That’s what sports are all about even if you do succeed. It’s the character thing that juices a team no matter what you do.
“It was so bad last year, the Sox went dead sour. Upper management cleans house, keeps Ortiz and the heart of the team and finds some guys who really want to play ball. Result? Cross your fingers, but it’s looking good.”
“What have you made of the two brothers who bombed the Boston Marathon?” I asked.
“Not so good for them,” Freddy said. “The older one’s dead,” Freddy added. “The story keeps coming at us like a novel, page by page, day by day. It turns out he was a pretty good amateur boxer, years ago. But he grows up, so to speak, gets married, has a son — family life doesn’t go down too good, so he goes off and learns how to be a bomb maker.”
“As for what his kid brother’s facing, better he died in the bottom of the boat he was hiding in. It looks like he’s recovering from being a live target because they’ve sent him off to prison at Camp Devens where he’ll be encouraged to tell us more if there’s more to tell.”