Last night, as I sat watching the Celtics crumble during the 4th quarter, I couldn’t help but wonder about the power of “home.” It’s pervasive across everything …
The Celtics, 36-10 on the road all year, can’t seem to win a road game in the playoffs. Fortunately, they’ve got home court advantage and they’ll crush the Cavs tomorrow night.
Musicians always seem to turn up the energy for the hometown show. Imagine seeing Springsteen in Boise, ID as opposed to Asbury Park. Which show d’you think will be better? 
As for me, I’ve lived and worked in three states: Conscious, Unconscious, and California. A Bostonian by birth, I never quite felt “at home” in Hollyweird. As familiar as I was with everything and everyone, I still felt like the eternal outsider. But why? What continually kept me from feeling out-of-place? So much so that years later, I left and came back to Boston where even after an extended absence, I felt instantly back in my element.
So the Celtics are back at the Gahden, the Sox are at Fenway, and all is right in the world. Maybe I thrive in Dirty Water?
