That's why we're here, said Julio Lugo
to the Globe. Sox fans booed
poor Lugo, booed his at-bat after
he dropped the ball in the pivotal fifth.
That ball, I got to it, I just
couldn't come up with it.
Lugo wants you to know
he is fast: a slower player
wouldn't even get close
enough to get booed. Lugo
wants you to know he's only
human: We're human beings.
That's why we're here. If not,
I would have wings.
I'd be beside God right now.
I'd be an angel.
But I'm not an angel.
I'm a human being that lives right here.
Next day, all
is forgiven. Lugo's home run, Lugo's
sweet comment to the press.
I wanted to make a poster like the ones that say
It's my birthday! or First Time at Fenway! or, pathetic, ESPN.
Posterboard, permanent marker to say Lugo: me, too.
I'm a human being that lives right here, decided
it's too esoteric, too ephemeral a reference, but it's true:
Oh, Lugo, Julio Lugo, I'm here with you.
