And movies on TV? Oh, wow: “Mrs. Doubtfire,’’ “You’ve Got Mail,’’ “Braveheart’’ (before we all became scared of Mel Gibson), “Letters from Iwo Jima,’’ “A Face In The Crowd,’’ and, perhaps best of all, Ernest Borgnine’s Oscar-winning performance in “Marty’’ (“What do you want to do?’’ “I don’t know, what do you want to do’’).
Speaking of movies, there was a wonderful treat at the always-enchanting Coolidge Corner Cinema. A showing of the 1927 French silent film classic “Sunrise’’ was accompanied by a live 11-piece ensemble supplied by the Berklee College of Music. Any ordinary night, I’d have been right there.
But as most of you know, last night was not just any ordinary night. Last night was one of those nights that enabled people blessed with the love of sport — sadly, that doesn’t include everyone — to plug into an experience that puts a little extra juice in our lives, and, for the umpteenth time, led me to ponder just what it is, if anything, that people uninterested in sports do to replicate the peculiar, enlivening buzz that only sport can provide.
This is not to say there aren’t many other exhilarating and satisfying ways to spend one’s leisure time. I likewise pity the people who aren’t moved by a great book, movie, play, work of art, or piece of music. But as someone who likes to think he does indeed appreciate those things, I am here to say that, as stimulating as these things are, none produce the physical and emotional sensation that a great ball game does. Close game, bottom of the ninth or with the clock ticking down and the outcome uncertain, and you find yourself with the heart pounding, the palms sweating, the throat a veritable Sahara . . . it is all a feeling of je ne sais quoi that is beyond the reach of a book, movie, play, painting, or concert.
