It has been 26 years for me, since that chilly day at the Fens when a wound was opened - raw and searing. It wasn't really the Dent HR that got to me that day. I was just to the 3B side of home plate, a dozen or so rows back - which means I could clearly see the face of a LH batter at the plate. And I did.
I was a chilly day as I recall, but sunny - one of those cold, clear fall afternoons when the sun goes down very quickly. I was dressed warmly in an old Army fatigue jacket and gloves, a sweater, and heavy sox (not red, BTW). It was the last time I would go to Fenway for several years.
The loss hurt, but what hurt the most that day was the Look; the awful, pained Look on Yaz' face when he popped up to third to end the game. He had been my favorite player as a boy growing up; I was too young to recall Teddy Ballgame. I will remember that terribly hurt expression all of my days. And over the years, nothing has been able to salve that wound - nothing.
Now, it is healed. The scar is till there, but it no longer hurts. It is now something that just happened.
Time to do some bird hunting.