Wednesday, April 17, 2013

Charles Pierce of Grantland

Charles Pierce of Grantland is one of the finest writers handling sports these days. I think of him sort of carrying the torch of freewheeling-yet-direct observational and humor-laden pop-sports writing — a less “beat”-y Hunter S. Thompson, if you will. More importantly he’s got Boston running in his veins, as a former writer of the now defunct Phoenix. He penned an excellent piece that finds relief and some form of gratitude-fueled happiness even amidst tragedy.

Out on the course, Vicky was running with her friend Nancy Breeden from Seattle. They’d just turned onto Boylston Street when they saw the commotion erupt in front of them. “A policeman came up to us,” Breeden said, “and he said, ‘Now, you have to run that way,” and pointed back the way we came, so we did.’” And that was how their Boston Marathon ended. In reverse. And, all around them in the Public Garden [reunion point], what seemed to be forming itself was something that was not quite a party, but not quite a wake, either. It was something solemn and celebratory all at once, like Easter morning, like a late-coming early spring.

To read the whole piece, head over to Grantland.

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