I didn’t have a true Inch Moment this year.
There were lots of great times, wonderful people and nice places, but never that one magical moment. And that’s OK. Those moments are so very perfect, I don’t think they’re meant to be had every year.
This being a week to look back, my Inch Moment of the decade came the night of October 27, 2004.
It wasn’t so much that the Red Sox finally won the World Series.
It was the people I talked to…the people I thought of… on my way home from work. Joanne Nesti’s call, right after Joe Castiglione’s “Can you believe it?.” The call to my mother, who had waited a lifetime for the moment, and whose sense of history wouldn’t let her miss it. The memories of her father, who took me and my brother to our first games at Fenway. And of my father, who wasn’t a rabid fan, but would have appreciated the moment. At home, my wife had a drink and congratulations waiting. And despite the fact it was her birthday, she gave me a gift. Solitude. To sit, sip, watch the replays and the postgame, and enjoy.
What a nice, warm, peaceful moment. An Inch Moment.
It will never happen again. It can’t. But the memory is so good, so good, so good.