View Full Version : Fathers, Sons (Daughters) and Baseball

11-01-2004, 10:32 AM
Baseball perhaps more than any other sports is passed on from generation to generation. The following 2 links express it well. BTW I know Mike and the story is true.

http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2004/10/31/the_day_was_everything_we_had_dreamed_of_and_more? pg=full

Michael LaVigne, 53, grew up in Central Massachusetts, one of five kids, the son of Dr. Richard LaVigne, chief of radiology at Burbank Hospital in Fitchburg. On weekends, the doctor would take his kids to work with him and sometimes they’d stamp some X-rays to help their dad. En route to the hospital, it was a family tradition to have breakfast at the Moran Square Diner on Myrtle Avenue in Fitchburg. The men who owned the diner were Yankee fans, and they always teased Dr. LaVigne about his love of the Red Sox.

In December of 1979, on his death bed at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, Dr. LaVigne made a final request of his son, Michael.

‘‘My dad said, ‘The one thing I wish had happened was that the Red Sox had won the World Series,’.’’ recalled Michael, now a house painter and assistant women’s soccer coach at Boston College. ‘‘He said, ‘If they ever win that World Series, I want you to go out and buy the most expensive bottle of champagne you can find and go back to the diner and put that bottle on the counter and say, ‘This is from the Doc!’.’’

Thursday afternoon, Michael knew what he had to do. He went to Burton’s Liquors in Newton, bought a bottle of Veuve Clicquot (worth north of $100), and drove to Fitchburg with his wife, Lisa.

‘‘It was a little dark when we got to Moran Square, but the diner was still there,’’ he said. ‘‘It was closed. I guess they close at 2 on weekdays. So I put it by the door on the steps with a note that said, ‘From the Doc. Richard LaVigne.’.’’

The new owner of the diner found the bottle when he got to work Friday morning. He’d heard of the story, but was surprised the Doc’s son delivered. He said he’d get the champagne to the old man who used to own the diner.

http://www.boston.com/news/local/articles/2004/10/31/after_decades_of_longing_generations_can_rejoice?m ode=PF

At 11:33 a.m. yesterday, in a mist of rain and confetti, a boy and his father watched history being made. The boy was 45 years old, his dad 77. They wore identical Red Sox jackets and caps. Over the years, the old man had held his son's hand many a time as they traipsed through Fenway Park together to see their beloved team.

Yesterday, it was the boy's turn to throw a protective arm around his father in a crowd of Red Sox fanatics whose day had finally -- finally -- come.

My Dad passed in 1966. He never got to see the Impossible Dream of 1967. My brother died the night the Red Sox won the AL East in 1975. It was with them that I went to my first Red Sox game in 1956 ( Ted Williams hit a home run as they beat Baltimore ) My Dad stopped drinking in 1949 after he went to Yankee Stadium for the last 2 games of the season and when they lost he went on a 3 week drunk in Manhattan as family lore goes.

My brother used to take me to Opening Day as a birthday present. One year we sat next to Arthur Fiedler who bought me a hot dog.

This morning I drove over to Fenway and bought 2 World Series pennants. I then drove to their final resting place and planted the flags on their graves. Somehow I know they were watching.