With the "Curse" Now History, Dan Shaughnessy in Seclusion Exploring New People, Families, and Teams to Ridicule, Torment, and Humiliate

Dan Shaughnessy admits that it has been a painful few months for him since the Red Sox broke the mythical “Curse of the Bambino,” a phenomenon largely perpetuated by his book, which now sells for a nickel at yard sales across the state.  “The curse meant everything to me,” said a ragged looking down-and-out Shaughnessy, as he sat on a park bench in the Public Garden, throwing rocks at the pigeons and squirrels. “It brought me wealth, fame, and allowed me to write fluff columns for the Globe for the past several years.”

            As we wandered over toward the Swan Boats, Shaughnessy continued to look despondent as he kicked at some baby ducklings on the banks of the water.  “Of course, I’m still doing the fluff pieces,” he said. “I usually just sit at the computer and type until I get to my word count.  But it’s not the same.” Then tears welled in his bloodshot eyes.  “Boy, do I miss throwing that curse at the Red Sox.  Now, it’s gone forever.”

            But a few day’s later, as we again met with Shaughnessy at his home, where he enjoyed a huge breakfast—while not offering this writer even a cup of coffee—he seemed somewhat rejuvenated.  “I’ve been thinking that there are plenty of other people and teams to humiliate.  So many losers in the world!”  Shaughnessy said he has begun extensive research exploring individuals, families, and teams that have been victims of grave misfortune.  He is culling his list, looking for those who appear most weak, vulnerable, and susceptible to his vitriol, “And then I am going to unleash some of the most savage, mean-spirited, and completely gratuitous attacks in the history of modern-day journalism.”

            Shaughnessy believes that too many sports journalists these days have lost their way.  “Look at guys like Gordon Edes and Tony Massarotti …I mean these are fairly decent human beings who seem concerned with being fair and impartial.  What a crock!  When you find a flaw in someone—rip them to shreds, show no mercy—that’s how you make money for yourself.  That’s entertainment.  Look what I did to Bill Buckner.  For nearly twenty years, every time an athlete screwed up I made a Buckner reference.  I kept turning the screw.  I drove him out of town!” he said, cackling gleefully.

            He leans back in his easy chair now, and the family cat jumps up on his lap.  “Yes, the curse is gone,” he says reflectively, as he sends the cat crashing violently into a wall with a swift backhand.  “But misfortune can strike at anytime.  Somewhere out there there’s another Bill Buckner.  When I find him, I’ll be there to haunt him for the rest of his life.”