Dreams

Ever since I can remember, cliches have been the forbidden fruit of writing.

"Don't use cliches, use your own mind and think of something original," my slender 45-year old bachelorette eighth grade English teacher would always instruct me, the 13-year old budding novelist.

Well I've grown since then. I've become a sportswriter instead of a novelist, and I frequently us cliches.

After all, cliches might lack the ever-changing fire of creativity, but they are true. And easily understood.

I should qualify that, however. Sports cliches are easily understood. Some other cliches are not. How many of us really understood what Socrates meant when he said "The unexamined life is not worth living? And how many of us took true note when Hegel wrote "The actual is the rational?" (I just threw that in.)

But in the realm made famous by guys named "Magic" and "The Great One," overused aphorisms are more common then miraculous comeback wins or dreams fulfilled by winning scores or little used players coming through in the clutch.

And well they should be. The amazing thing about sports is that the cliches fit. More often than not, they accurately describe the emotion and facts on the playing field. When the going gets tough (i.e. during crunch time or through adversity), the tough get going (see West, Montana, or DiMaggio, and for the reverse see Barry Bonds or John Thompson). The game isn't over till the fat lady sings. (See game six of the '86 world series.) There is no "I" in team (See the New Jersey Nets for the losing side of that coin, and the 1988 Dodgers for the winning side.)

Now that I have hopefully cleared some legitimate space for the cliche, let me describe one of the classics: hitting a home run over the Green Monster at Fenway Park.

Fenway park is the most revered park in baseball because of its traditional-style, weird dimensions, and inviting Green Monster. Throw in the gloriously tragic history of the Red Sox and the sports craziness of Boston, and it becomes clear my any red-blooded American kid dreams of clearing the 33-foot high wall in left.

Although the Harvard baseball team played poorly yesterday in the opening -round of the Beanpot, losing 12-3 to Boston College sophomore third- baseman mike Hochanadel still had quite a memorable day.

Not only did the Blacklick, OH. native go 3-4 with two RBI but he hit one over the Green Monster. That's right--he didn't make a short free throw at the Boston Garden or sing the national anthem at the super Bowl; with grace and power, accompanied by the pure crack of the bat, he drilled one into the net over the Monster. And there was no doubt about it. Everyone knew that this one was gone.

"My dad has always talked to me about hitting a home run at Fenway," Hochanadel said. "He promised to buy me a motorcycle if I ever did it, so guess he owes me a motorcycle. It does kind of fulfill a dream of mine. I never really though I'd play at Fenway" (Unfortunately, Hochanadel's father could not attend the game because he is recovering from shoulder surgery.)

Although Hochanadel's day in the sun was muted by the Harvard loss he still can legitimately tell his grandchildren that he hit a home run over the Green Monster. And that is nothing to sneer at, especially when the vast majority of baseball fans can't even entertain the thought of a cup of coffee in the big show.

But that's another story Hochanadel, who ha one home run coming into the game, also laced a ball over the centerfield's head for a double. That's shot was hit to cavernous left center, however, so it did not have much of a chance to get out.

But as I've mentioned his long fly all to left got way out.

It felt great to hit the home run," Hochanadel said. "I wasn't really thinking about it up there because I don't think about any thing at the plate.

A clear head at bat--just like Ted Williams And you've probably heard that one before.