Monday, February 1, 2010

Shut Out of the Beanpot, Year 4



Has it been that long? In spring 2006, I was signing all the papers and buying my youngest daughter the bookstore sweatshirt that sealed the deal on her decision to leave New York and attend college in Boston in the fall.

Exciting college town, I thought. Boston's small enough to get around. Big enough to have more college kids roaming around getting into all kinds of things, good or bad. In short, a perfect city to learn about yourself and about life.

And, I was confident, a perfect place for my daughter to gain tickets to the men's Beanpot tournament for yours truly. She's a good kid, I thought. She'll make connections, meet someone who knows someone, etc.

She's not attending Boston University, Boston College, Northeastern or Harvard, but she's studying at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design, a school on the Fenway. Northeastern is a neighbor and BU is not far away. Kids being kids, tribes will gather in a cultural exchange at public refreshment establishments in the Fens, on Commonwealth Ave., on Huntington Ave., on Mass Ave., in any number of squares and during the ride home on the T. Somehow that will result in me being in Boston the first two Mondays in February. I'll be able to listen in on any number of fans' conversations about their Beanpot memories. Beanpot Mondays.

It's 2010. Number of Beanpot games attended: Zero. My daughter's a senior. The tournament starts tonight. No tickets. Next Monday? No tickets.

I'm looking at another February in New York, listening to the games via the Web. But she's a good kid, or I should say a good young woman, a loving and generous daughter who has her priorities in order. I'm told I am a lock for tickets to MassArt's graduation this spring. That's gotta count for something.

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