Archives for October 2004

October 30, 2004

I Love A Parade

     

It's finally real. After some finagling of my schedule (thanks, Pete and Kari), I was allowed to attend the "Rolling Rally" to celebrate the...(ahem)...World Champion...(eep)...2004...(gulp)...Boston Red Sox. I handed off the camera to the incomparable Sooz so she could take some fantastic pictures and so I could clap and hoot and holler. Apparently that's just what I did; the first float of players came into view, I screamed "Mark Bellhorn!" and the next 20 minutes is kind of a blur.

I do remember a few things: screaming for Tito Francona; getting a wave and a nod from Mike Timlin; all of us yelling either "Speech!" or "Sweep!" at Trot Nixon (O.C. obliged by waving a broom at us); Manny holding a sign that read "Jeter's playing golf; this is better!" I wonder if Manny made it himself.

I am going to miss this team. But what a way to close the book on the 2004 Red Sox. Now I must wait patiently for the DVD and the Stephen King/Stewart O'Nan book. But I got my "The Passion of Johnny Damon" T-shirt.

All the pictures Sooz took are here (I heartily recommend choosing the slide show; cranking up that Green Day "Hope you had the time of your life" song is optional).

October 28, 2004

Quick Thought Before I Get 2 Hours Sleep

It's just as sweet as I imagined in my wildest dreams.

October 27, 2004

Win It For

Continuing the theme started on the SOSH forum and continued by Simmons (which I may repeat some since I didn't read all 48 pages of the forum thread):

Win it for Ted and Yaz and Bobby and Johnny Pesky and Pudge and Dewey and Jim Ed. A part of every single one of them will be holding that trophy soon.

Win it for Ellis Burks, whose career has taken him some interesting places. And when they hand out the rings in April, let Greenie come running onto the field and crash into him one last time.

Win it for Jay, and Mark, and Dave and Peter and John and Fred and Pat, and Eric and Brian, and Jimmy, and Hillary, and Kentucky Jim, and Mark, and Cheryl, and Travis, and Kathy and Kerry, and John and Liz, and Alex, and Chris, and Steve and Churchill and Amy and Hilary and Cathy, and Mark and Carole and Mike, and Dana and Terri, and Amanda and Tony, and Vicki and Jeanne and Molly and Justin. This is a rough chrononological list of every friend who's shared my Red Sox mania (mostly at Fenway) for at least three hours. Amazing how many people will be going through my mind this month, thinking, "I wonder how they feel".

Win it for Dan Shaughnessy, who can finally move on and write something else soon. For Joe and Jerry, who've grown on me exponentially over the last couple years. Digress away, fellas; no one wears their hearts on their sleeves more. For Sean and Don and Jerry, all a million times more worthy of being in the booth tonight than these Fox guys. Why can't the World Series be simulcast on NESN?

Win it for Sooz, and show her I wasn't kidding when I said this would happen someday. With any luck there'll be a critical balk tonight.

Win it for Yves, a born-and-bred New Yorker who made the risky decision to voluntarily become a Red Sox fan. Justify his love.

Win it for my sister Christine. I don't know exactly when the switch went on that turned her into a lifelong fan (probably about the time Tim Wakefield arrived in town, heh heh) but she's there. And for everyone sitting in the bleachers with me and her on 4/15/1997, still the most fun evening I've ever spent at a ballpark.

Win it for my three grandparents who aren't here to watch this team. For Grandpa Frank; I don't think "they stink" anymore! For Grandpa Walter and Grandma Helen: wherever they're watching this Series from, I hope they're not sitting behind a pole.

Win it for my Grandma Ann. She had a triple bypass two weeks ago; at one point while she was recuperating, my Aunt Carol told her how the Red Sox came from behind and beat the Yankees. Grandma nodded and drifted off to sleep. A few minutes later, she woke up out of the blue and yelled, "The Red Sox won!" She was two years old in that far-off, mythical land we know so well as 1918. There's literally no one who's been alive and waiting for this moment longer.

Win it for my Dad. He claimed for a long time that he'd given up on the Red Sox. Yeah, right. But during some down time last summer, he wrote a book about how the team could turn itself around. Then when they announced that Schilling would be starting the second game of the 2004 season, he bought plane and game tickets to Baltimore. If this season has been about one thing, it's been about new beginnings. I think he's enjoyed his new beginning with this team.

Win it for my Mom. That book my Dad wrote? She got to hear every bit of raw material that went into it...and a million more besides. Sometimes a little louder than she wanted to hear it. But who else talked about (literally) dancing in the street every time Greenwell homered in the '95 Pennant Race? Who else got such a kick out of every defensive indifference call, and every manufactured run? This one's for you, Mom. After all these years, they've finally played to their level.

One more.

October 21, 2004

Unbelievable

Random thoughts:

• OHMYGODTHEYBEATTHEYANKEES
• I wonder how much of Dan Shaugnessy's, "Well, they killed you again, Red Sox fans" column had already been written before the first pitch. Maybe for fun, the Globe will run it someday.
• These are the counterarguments I suggest you use to the Yankee fan in your life over the next few days. If they bring up 1978 or Bucky Dent...well, which is worse, losing a 13-game lead over 2 months, or losing a 3-game lead in 3 days? If they bring up Bill Buckner, console yourself by knowing that anyone as blatantly frontrunning as the "Mets-fan-in-the-80s-but-Yankee-fan-in-the-90s" isn't worthy of oxygen, let alone cheap shots. If they haul out 26-0, remember that this 1 kills them. They have no scar tissue like us; this wound is ultrapainful and fresh and oh so beautiful.
• Johnny Damon!
• Derek Lowe!
• Anyone who calls this is a one-way rivalry is kidding themselves. How many "Go Yankees" signs did you see in the stands, compared to 1918 and Babe Ruth signs. If the Yanks had played the Blue Jays in the ALCS, it'd be different, but the fact is that losing to the Red Sox is the worst possible moment of a Yankee fan's life. How sweet is that?
• I know it's standard procedure to say we don't care who we play in the Series; we're just happy to be there. Screw that. I WANT CLEMENS. Let's make this as sweet as possible.
• Amy and Churchill and I walked up to Harvard Square; Mass Ave was total pandemonium. Horns honking, crowds swarming, total strangers high-fiving passengers in cars. I didn't recognize this town.
• Hey, NY fans...at least the Jets are undefeated...for 72 more hours....
• I can't wait till this sinks in.

October 20, 2004

After Game 6: In Case You Were Wondering

I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. A-Rod is a little bitch. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. Schilling for President. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. NY fans show their true colors when adversity strikes; they need the freaking riot police. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I believe in Wake and Derek and Manny and Johnny and Keith and Billy and Mark-f'in'-Bellhorn and Poppi and Tek and Trot and the OC and Timlin and Mientki and Myers and Kevin and Dougie and Petey and Ramiro and Gabe and Dave and Pokey and Curt and Bronson and Embree and Curtis. I am calm. I am calm. I am calm. I even believe in Tito.

I am calm.

October 19, 2004

Stupid, Cruel, Beautiful Hope

I don't know how it's possible but it is - I've been watching the Red Sox and Yankees for 37 of the past 29 hours. You'd think that's mathematically impossible, but that's the case.

Anyway, I started last night at home, still wounded from the Yankees 37-8 win on Saturday (well, it might as well have been; I'm pretty sure Matsui went 11-for-12 with 8 doubles and 18 RBI) thinking the way all true and good Sox fans do -- "Please, kill us now" -- but I got sucked in good as they hung on and tied it in the 9th (I almost called my Dad to see if he was still conscious after Dave Roberts stole a base as part of the rally (I believe the 1st Red Sox steal since 1983)). Then I got sucked WAY in when Big Papi homered to end it.

And tonight...well, nothing in my 30+ years was ever quite like tonight. Yes, that was me sitting 20 rows right behind home plate. HarperCollins, the wonderful publisher of such wonderful books as Russell Banks' new novel, sent my bookstore some tickets. And you should totally read Neal Stephenson's Quicksilver trilogy, too.

So there I am, daring to hope that the Sox can smack New York again and send the series back to the Bronx. And damned if they didn't. Well, if you read "smacked" as "put everyone through 6 hours of nailbiting horrifying tension and then finally won it on a David Ortiz single just when we were all about ready to collapse". For Sox fans, they're one and the same. God, I love beating the Yankees.

So we bought another 24 hours of cruel, beautiful hope. And now I'm hoping other things too. I hope Kerry wins 39 states and Bush slinks back to Texas forever. I hope my year-long emotional funk may be picking up. I hope the Pacific is as beautiful as it is in my dreams. I hope.