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Boston Globe
18 minutes ago
- Sport
- Boston Globe
For the second time in the 100-year history of American Legion baseball, Fall River is Massachusetts senior champion
Behind a rally from an early 3-0 deficit, Fall River Post 464 took down Shrewsbury Post 397, 6-4, to claim their first senior championship since 1990 Wednesday night at Adams Field. 'These kids have got guts,' Fall River coach Sean Travis said. 'This is the fourth year we've gotten to the state tournament, and we've had some great teams. Just every year we got a little closer.' Fall River Post 464 manager Sean Travis (center) celebrates with players Jeyden Espinal (left) and Matt Almeida (right) after beating Shrewsbury for the state crown. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Both Fall River and Shrewsbury advance to the Region One Tournament beginning Aug. 6 at Worcester's Fitton Field, with Shrewsbury Post 497 earning an automatic bid as the host team. Tournament MVP Matt Almeida (Diman) tossed six strong innings with four strikeouts and reached base four times, driving in a run and scoring one. Jeyden Espinal, a 2024 Durfee graduate, swatted Post 464 into the lead with a two-run single to center before closing out the game on the mound. Get Starting Point A guide through the most important stories of the morning, delivered Monday through Friday. Enter Email Sign Up For a group that has built camaraderie over the years, being able to finally break through into the regional tournament was a sweet reward. Advertisement 'It's just so fun, being around these guys is the best,' Almeida said. 'It's all fun and games, but when we're on the field it's all business.' FINAL: Fall River Post 464 6, Shrewsbury Post 397 4 After overcoming an early 3-0 deficit, Fall River is the Massachusetts American Legion state champion. They'll represent the state in the Region One tournament beginning Wednesday. — Mike Puzzanghera (@mpuzzanghera) American Legion baseball began in 1925, initially to keep people in shape but also to mentor young people. In that time, it's maintained its creed and grown. 'It really is something to behold,' said Dick Paster, the Massachusetts American Legion baseball committee chairman. 'It's an opportunity for kids to play without paying travel ball fees … There's a lot of guys that have played baseball at high levels that are coaching, and it's a labor of love.' Advertisement For Fall River, it's an opportunity for the city to band together. With four high schools — Durfee High, Diman Vocational, Atlantis Charter, and Argosy Charter, plus Bishop Stang down the road in Dartmouth — its no guarantee that kids who grew up playing together can stay teammates in high school. But Legion baseball gives those kids the opportunity to once again share the field with their neighbors. 'Some of these kids have been playing for our organization since they were 4, 5 , 6 years old,' Travis said. 'That's what makes it great. I keep on telling them, you're making memories with these kids who are like family.' Fall River's Matt Almeida scored the go-ahead run in the fourth inning. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe The Region One tourney pits the champions from Massachusetts, Rhode Island, Connecticut, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, and New York against each other. If the current trend is any indication, expect heavy support for Fall River. 'It's unbelievable,' Travis said. 'These parents are crying, its special. It's not like winning a weekend tournament. You've got to advance, advance, advance.' Fall River manager Sean Travis was ecstatic after the win. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Shrewsbury's Ryan Iagallo slides home ahead of the throw for a run in the fourth inning. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Shrewsbury's Ryan Iagallo (correctly) calls himself safe at home as Fall River catcher Tanyon Reis hopefully holds up the ball in the fourth inning. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Fall River's Jeyden Espinal seals the win for Post 464 on the mound in the seventh inning. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Fall River Post 464 manager Sean Travis gets an ice-water bath during the postgame celebration. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Fall River's Matt Almeida pitches to Shrewsbury was named tournament MVP after earning the win in the final. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Fall River manager Sean Travis hugs players Jeyden Espina (left) and Matt Almeida (right). Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Quincy, MA — 07/30/2025 - Fall River Post 464 manager Sean Travis, right, high-fives his players after a 6-4 win over Shewsbury for the American Legion baseball state championship game at Adams Field in Quincy on Wednesday July 30, 2025. Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe Ken McGagh for The Boston Globe
The Age
28-04-2025
- The Age
Serious question: why are there so many keys?
Out of all the possible things that could do it, I was radicalised by the DVD region lock. Remember those things? All you wanna do is watch your Region One copy of Donnie Darko, and instead you get an error message saying you've committed a federal crime. The multi-region DVD player was my golden key to a whole new world (of questionable arthouse films), and I've committed my life to selfless activism in the name of liberty ever since. Not really, but I still hate locks. They're such a waste of time! Unnecessary roadblocks in the paths of our daily lives. It's like we're all doing hurdles when we could just be doing a 100-metre dash. (I appreciate that you're probably reading this from behind a paywall, the only acceptable lock because it funds my dark chocolate habit. Note: the chocolate's dark, not the habit.) Locks are everywhere. Our lives are like that Charli XCX song: all day it's like, 'lock it, lock it, lock it, unlock it, got the key can you unlock it?' Great track, but it's not supposed to be a guide for living. We come into this world immediately lock-pilled. As children, we're told cautionary tales about Goldilocks, that nefarious blonde girl who strolls into unlocked homes to smash chairs and steal porridge. Later in our adolescence, we willingly padlock our diaries so no one can know our deepest secrets like, 'I'm in love with Raven from Teen Titans '. In high school, we shove all our stuff into padlocked metal lockers, fearful that teenage hands are out to pilfer our textbooks or those syllabus copies of Anne Frank's diary (oddly enough, the only diary not padlocked). This baseline dread explodes in adulthood. We pat ourselves down every morning before we leave the house, chanting 'phone, wallet, keys' like life's saddest mantra. We unlock our phones with our fingerprints or faces or endless patterns of pin codes. We log into our work laptops with another password that we're forced to update every few months, lest anyone steal our super exciting folder of holiday photos from Port Macquarie. By the time we've properly started our day, we've unlocked more locks than a prison warden. Even in my own home, if I want to open a window, I have to use a key first thanks to all the intricate locks put in place to stop the infamous Spider Villain of the Inner West who's scaling six-storey apartment blocks to steal, I don't know, a La Creuset crockpot? (it's the only valuable item I own). If I want to hang up laundry on my balcony, I have to remember to flick the lock first or risk fumbling all my freshly cleaned underpants on a floor that's perennially covered in 100s and 1000s (how do kids manage this and where are they even getting them from?). Locks at home are such a dumb hassle. What am I even protecting? Yellowed paperbacks I haven't looked at in a decade? Soft toys scattered in every corner? A loaf of stale sliced bread? At this point, robbing me should be called 'cleaning'.
Sydney Morning Herald
22-04-2025
- Sydney Morning Herald
Get your locks off, get your locks off, honey
Out of all the possible things that could do it, I was radicalised by the DVD region lock. Remember those things? All you wanna do is watch your Region One copy of Donnie Darko, and instead you get an error message saying you've committed a federal crime. The multi-region DVD player was my golden key to a whole new world (of questionable arthouse films), and I've committed my life to selfless activism in the name of liberty ever since. Not really, I just still hate locks. They're such a waste of time! Unnecessary roadblocks in the paths of our daily lives. It's like we're all doing hurdles when we could just be doing a 100-metre dash. (I appreciate that you're probably reading this from behind a paywall, the only acceptable lock because it funds my dark chocolate habit. Note: the chocolate's dark, not the habit.) Locks are everywhere. Our lives are like that Charli XCX song: all day it's like, 'lock it, lock it, lock it, unlock it, got the key can you unlock it?' Great track, but it's not supposed to be a guide for living. We come into this world immediately lock-pilled. As children, we're told cautionary tales about Goldilocks, that nefarious blonde girl who strolls into unlocked homes to smash chairs and steal porridge. Later in our adolescence, we willingly padlock our diaries so no one can know our deepest secrets like, 'I'm in love with Raven from Teen Titans.' In high school, we shove all our stuff into padlocked metal lockers, fearful that teenage hands are out to pilfer our textbooks or those syllabus copies of Anne Frank's diary (oddly enough, the only diary not padlocked). This baseline dread explodes in adulthood. We pat ourselves down every morning before we leave the house, chanting 'phone, wallet, keys' like life's saddest mantra. We unlock our phones with our fingerprints or faces or endless patterns of pin codes. We log into our work laptops with another password that we're forced to update every few months, lest anyone steal our super exciting folder of holiday photos from Port Macquarie. By the time we've properly started our day, we've unlocked more locks than a prison warden. Even in my own home, if I want to open a window, I have to use a key first thanks to all the intricate locks put in place to stop the infamous Spider Villain of the Inner West who's scaling six-storey apartment blocks to steal, I don't know, a La Creuset crockpot? (it's the only valuable item I own). If I want to hang up laundry on my balcony, I have to remember to flick the lock first or risk fumbling all my freshly cleaned underpants on a floor that's perennially covered in 100s and 1000s (how do kids manage this and where are they even getting them from?). Locks at home are such a dumb hassle. What am I even protecting? Yellowed paperbacks I haven't looked at in a decade? Soft toys scattered in every corner? A loaf of stale sliced bread? At this point, robbing me should be called 'cleaning'.
The Age
22-04-2025
- The Age
Get your locks off, get your locks off, honey
Out of all the possible things that could do it, I was radicalised by the DVD region lock. Remember those things? All you wanna do is watch your Region One copy of Donnie Darko, and instead you get an error message saying you've committed a federal crime. The multi-region DVD player was my golden key to a whole new world (of questionable arthouse films), and I've committed my life to selfless activism in the name of liberty ever since. Not really, I just still hate locks. They're such a waste of time! Unnecessary roadblocks in the paths of our daily lives. It's like we're all doing hurdles when we could just be doing a 100-metre dash. (I appreciate that you're probably reading this from behind a paywall, the only acceptable lock because it funds my dark chocolate habit. Note: the chocolate's dark, not the habit.) Locks are everywhere. Our lives are like that Charli XCX song: all day it's like, 'lock it, lock it, lock it, unlock it, got the key can you unlock it?' Great track, but it's not supposed to be a guide for living. We come into this world immediately lock-pilled. As children, we're told cautionary tales about Goldilocks, that nefarious blonde girl who strolls into unlocked homes to smash chairs and steal porridge. Later in our adolescence, we willingly padlock our diaries so no one can know our deepest secrets like, 'I'm in love with Raven from Teen Titans.' In high school, we shove all our stuff into padlocked metal lockers, fearful that teenage hands are out to pilfer our textbooks or those syllabus copies of Anne Frank's diary (oddly enough, the only diary not padlocked). This baseline dread explodes in adulthood. We pat ourselves down every morning before we leave the house, chanting 'phone, wallet, keys' like life's saddest mantra. We unlock our phones with our fingerprints or faces or endless patterns of pin codes. We log into our work laptops with another password that we're forced to update every few months, lest anyone steal our super exciting folder of holiday photos from Port Macquarie. By the time we've properly started our day, we've unlocked more locks than a prison warden. Even in my own home, if I want to open a window, I have to use a key first thanks to all the intricate locks put in place to stop the infamous Spider Villain of the Inner West who's scaling six-storey apartment blocks to steal, I don't know, a La Creuset crockpot? (it's the only valuable item I own). If I want to hang up laundry on my balcony, I have to remember to flick the lock first or risk fumbling all my freshly cleaned underpants on a floor that's perennially covered in 100s and 1000s (how do kids manage this and where are they even getting them from?). Locks at home are such a dumb hassle. What am I even protecting? Yellowed paperbacks I haven't looked at in a decade? Soft toys scattered in every corner? A loaf of stale sliced bread? At this point, robbing me should be called 'cleaning'.
