With Mitt Romney’s razor-thin victory in Iowa’s presidential caucus, what’s the most telling number? Is it 8 — the margin by which he barely beat Rick Santorum, the former senator from Pennsylvania who came out of nowhere in the past two weeks (then polling almost dead last) to surprise everyone? Is it 21 percent — the protest vote given to 75-year-old, grouchy libertarian Rep. Ron Paul of Texas? Or maybe 13 percent — the lousy showing by Newt Gingrich that landed him in a distant fourth place?
It was a day I thought would come a little later, but love sets its own time schedule.
In less than two weeks, our only daughter, Diane, will get married to her fiancé, Oshane.
Turning 50 and seeing a child get married during the same month. As if I needed further evidence that I am getting old.
Seems like only yesterday that I was writing columns in this newspaper about Diane being born, learning how to pronounce her hometown of Bristol, building fairy houses in the woods and eventually graduating from high school.
It’s written in the Official Manual for Sports Writing that predictions must be made. That’s Rule 1.
Rule 2? Once made, said prognostication must be quickly forgotten unless it miraculously proves correct.
Did I mention that I once accurately made the preseason prediction that the Kansas City Royals would win the 1985 World Series? Hey, thanks to Don Denkinger’s historically bad umpiring call (Jorge Orta safe at first in the 9th inning of Game 6 vs. the Cardinals) I was right.
Since then? See Rule 2.