|Onward to Boylston St.|
I was at Boston in 2010. I'd just powered through the much talked about Newton Hills, and though not especially large, their position toward the end of the course will put the hurt of God into you, and so I was spent over the last few miles. Found myself digging hard to keep the pace from slowing and was mostly oblivious as to what was going on around me. As we run past the lawn parties near Boston University, maybe mile 22 or so, random spectators begin to spontaneously curse the Yankees. Yes, the New York Yankees baseball team. The outright dislike for the Yanks just seemed to spill forth right there at mile 22 of the marathon. Over and over I was informed that the 'Yankees suck!!'
My mind un-fogs a bit and it occurs to me that someone in my running pack must be wearing a Yankees cap or shirt or something. In between the general hollering and cheering I would suddenly hear a casual 'hey, f*ck you Yankee fan', then 'you can do it, it's all downhill from here!!', then 'get f*cked New York'. It took me a moment to understand what was going on, I didn't even realize we were near a University at first until I looked up from the road. I clearly remember glancing over and seeing a good looking coed nursing a keg cup in one hand, and mid-cheer for the other runners her eyes briefly harden and she blurts out to the guy two in front of me, 'trip and fall you Yankee f*ck', then continues to cheer for the rest of us as though nothing had just happened. Comic gold - that some guy would choose to run for three hours motivated by unadulterated sports-loyalty hate, and that the gracious folks lining the streets into Boston would gladly give it to him. A fine memory of one timeless Patriots Day in Boston MA.