Actually, I think one of the locals may have asked me about Tony Graffanino, but no one in Sicily spoke English, so there wasn't much I could offer.
All in all, my Mediterranean holiday meant lots of good family time, but absolutely no access to the other things I love: no Globe sports page, no English-speaking papers of any kind, no ESPN, no CNN, no Internet, no air conditioning, no White Mountain Creamery, no double-meat whoppers, and no sports radio (OK, I made that last one up).
Sure, there was plenty of great pizza, pasta, and wine, but how is anyone from New England supposed to survive summer breakfasts without a daily portion of the most crucial food group: the major league box score?
It was torture. I went into one of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world in Monreale and found myself wondering whether a David Ortiz popup would scrape the ceiling. While others prayed, lit candles, took photos, and gaped at the amazing mosaic detail, I was doing calculations in my head, trying to figure out if Monreale Cathedral was bigger than the Astrodome.
We toured the ancient Greek ruins in Agrigento and I thought of Harry Agganis (the Golden Greek) and Kevin Youkilis (the Greek God of Walks). At the volcano site in Mount Etna, I was reminded of Carl Everett. At Piazza del Duomo in Taormina, I kept wondering whether Mike Piazza still hates Roger Clemens. The local newspaper had a story written from Sorrento and I thought of former Twins slugger Paul Sorrento.
We went to the Capuchins catacombs, saw mummified bodies, and I thought of skeleton frames of burned-out Chevrolets in the Bronx near Yankee Stadium. Then I pored through local phone books, hoping to find a listing for ''DiMaggio, Giuseppe."
When our tour guide spoke of the ancient diety Demeter, the protectress of agriculture and fertility, my mind drifted back to the mid-1960s when the Red Sox traded the great Earl Wilson for Don Demeter. Wilson went on to win 22 games in a season with the Detroit Tigers. Demeter developed a heart murmur and retired.
