Ten years ago I was still licking the wounds from the Red
Sox-Yankees ALCS fiasco of 2003. I
had watched Grady Little leave Pedro on the mound for one inning too many on a microscopic
13-inch television crammed into my little Smith College dorm room with a dozen or so housemates. My dreams of a
Sox World Series win my senior year of college crushed like the ball hit over
the monster by an unlikely hero named Aaron Boone.
Aaron Fucking Boone.
I finally understood the Curse of the Bambino. I wasn’t
around for 1967, 1975, or Bucky Dent and was only 4 years old for Buckner. My
Mom is the biggest sox fan I know – she keeps score during every game while
watching the game on NESN. (For years it was while listening to the game on the
radio). She made sure I heard the stories, knew the lore, I couldn’t have
escaped my childhood without knowing. But I hadn’t felt the raw searing pain of
the curse first hand until that night in October in 2003.
This is my mom and me on my first day of kindergarden.
She's wearing a 1986 ALCS Champions t-shirt.
She still has it, though it's more holes than shirt these days.
Mom pulled out this old ticket stub from a game she went to in 1981.
$6.25
Damn
Here is my ticket for last Wednesday's game.
What I would have thought if in November of 2003 you had
told me then that within the next decade the Sox would not only win 3 World Series
Championships, but that one of those would be clinched at home and I
would be there for it…
Side note: less than a
month after the 2003 ALCS I would meet a loyal Cubbie named Andy Jenkins who
was simultaneously trying to recover from the Curse of the Billy Goat and the
infamous foul-ball fan. It didn’t take me long to fully convert him from a
long-suffering Cubs fan into a Sox fan.
It isn’t often in life one can say they witnessed history,
but last Wednesday night I literally witnessed sports history. After winning 2
World Series on the road, the Sox finally did it at home, at beloved Fenway
Park for the first time since Babe Ruth still wore a Red Sox uniform.
Historic.
I wrote in my last blog about my experience at Game
6 of the ALCS, how our friend with MLB connections got us tickets, how we
turned down Game 1 of the World Series, realized how stupid that was and jumped
at the offer to attend Game 6. We
burned some airmiles, flew from Atlanta back up north Tuesday night, and left
Tess with my Mom Wednesday afternoon when we left Western Mass for Boston.
Shipping up to Boston!
We went to Massachusetts in late September.
Then again for the ALCS on October 19.
And again for the World Series.
We also went to San Francisco and
Andy went to New York for a night in between those trips.
Needless to say, we would rather not see another airport any time soon,
but Tess is getting great at flying.
On the road, heading east!
That ALCS game was anxiety-riddled and exhilarating. There was certainly a tension in the
air. Maybe it was because for 6 innings it was a close game. Maybe it was because memories of the curse and 2003 still lingered in my subconscious. Whatever the reason, I wasn’t counting
any chickens until the 27th out. Then, when Victorino hit that Grand
Salami, tension turned into pure, unadulterated joy.
Game 6 of the World Series was different. There was no anxiety, no tension – at
least for the fans. I’m sure the players would give different reports. But in
the stands it was just a big party as soon as we walked in.
In fact, it was a party even earlier than that. Andy and I stopped at a rest stop on the pike on our way out to Boston. As I walked out of the ladies room wearing my
Sox jersey a couple of women yelled “GO SOX!” and high-fived me. This instigated
an entire line of people heading to the bathroom, all wearing sox shirts and
hats, to slap my hand while whooping and hollering.
We saw this guy at dinner.
A priest with a world series ticket.
I think he must have put in a good word...
All of Massachusetts, and likely all of New England were
celebrating the day. Everything and everyone was focused on the game and Fenway
Park. That morning on the local tv news in Springfield, Mass – a good 2 hours
from Boston – the weatherman spent considerable time reporting that the weather
at Fenway at 8pm that evening would be 50 degrees, cooling to 45 by the end of
9 innings. He even went so far to say that the wind would be blowing out
towards right field. Not that the wind would blow in a southeasterly direction,
but towards right field. He never
mentioned what the weather would be in the Pioneer Valley, however.
Every newspaper devoted their front page to the game. Everyone I saw when I went out for
coffee and donuts that morning was wearing sox gear. My Facebook news feed was
full of World Series talk, at least from my fellow Massholes.
Meanwhile, apparently the front page of the St. Louis
newspaper made no mention of the game.
It was as if they already knew it was over.
The entire city of Boston was electric the night of the game.
Everyone was out on the streets. People
were walking towards Fenway in droves. Only a small percentage of whom were
ticket holders, most people just wanted to be down in Fenway to be as close to
the magic as possible. The line to get into Jillian’s went so far down Lansdown
Street I couldn’t see the end.
As we walked toward our seats in the bleachers, everyone was
high-fiving and hugging, all strangers who were instant best friends. The
crowd knew this game was ours. The trophy might as well have already been
engraved, and champagne bottled popped.
All 9 innings felt like a celebration.
People were on their feet from the first pitch to the last.
No one sat.
Best fans in all of sport.
The Dropkick Murphys sang the National Anthem and Shipping Up To Boston, again - just like in the ALCS Game 6. This is what I love about the Sox. To sing the Star Spangled Banner at the World Series? Could have certainly gone to a bigger name act than the Murphy's, but they rewarded Sox loyalty instead. And Carlton Fisk (wearing a fake beard) and Luis Tiant threw out the first pitch(es) - bona fide Red Sox legends!
Big Papi, without whom the Sox batting average in the series to that point would be a measley .151, would not get a chance to hit. He was walked 3 times intentionally, once unintentionally, in the midst of chants of “MVP, MVP” from the crowd. But every little thing was gonna be alright, because the rest of the lineup would step up to the plate in Papi’s place.
Big Papi, without whom the Sox batting average in the series to that point would be a measley .151, would not get a chance to hit. He was walked 3 times intentionally, once unintentionally, in the midst of chants of “MVP, MVP” from the crowd. But every little thing was gonna be alright, because the rest of the lineup would step up to the plate in Papi’s place.
Andy with the man with the tickets.
The sox clinched the American League pennant
AND the World Series with us in the stands.
The Sox should hire us to be there for all their games!
Victorino came through with another big hit in the 3rd,
knocking in 3 RBIs.
Lackey, who has been a major target of the haters since
joining the Sox roster, was a beast on the mound.
"Started from the bottom now the whole team here."
Drew and Ellsbury came out of their hitting slumps. Drew with a homerun. And Ellsbury got out of a pickle and back to first! When does that ever happen? My mom said she didn't even know how to score that.
Workman and Tazawa put a stop to the Cardinals’ last ditch
efforts at a come back, then Koji came in to stick the final knife in the
Cardinals’ hopes to tie the series and force a game 7.
Officer Horgan!
My friend Liz from Baldwin House at Smith
was also at the game so I went over to visit with her and her husband in their seats!
This was their view.
We had to leave quick though because while we were over there Lackey let in a run.
I'm superstitious and had to go back over to my seats.
Koji action shot!
We did it. In our house. A celebration 95 years in the making.
No words....
After a 93-loss season, finishing in dead last place. That season having followed one of the
most epic September meltdowns in baseball history in 2011.
There was no better way to honor the city of Boston after the
season began in tragedy.
We could see these crowds from the back row of the bleachers looking out over the Pike.
I think these people were over on Newbury St.
From my nephew Chris who was at the parade.
We went up to the very back row of the bleachers in center field
to look out over the city after we won.
This was our view of this sign from right underneath.
Leaving Fenway.
The cops had cleared most of the people from the bars in the area by the time we left.
Boylston did not look like this.
It was 1am before we left Fenway, and we were certainly not
the last ones there. Not even close. The party was still going strong in
fact. We walked towards Boylston
and I’ve never seen so many people.
We tried getting on the T at Hynes, Copley and Arlington. Too many
people. We just walked all the way to Park Street since we were just trying to
get to the Red Line. Our amazing friend from Smith, Steph, and her soon-to-be-husband Mark were nice enough to let us stay with them in Southie so we could get some sleep before driving back to Western Mass.
The crowd was a little crazy, but honestly considering the
sheer number of people in the streets it’s pretty amazing it didn’t get out of
control. It actually made me
realize what a special city Boston is.
While walking through a T station, I dropped a glove. A girl, probably in college, ran clear
across the station to give it back to me. In the midst of what could have been riots breaking out, this
girl wanted to make sure I didn’t lose my glove. A young couple walking through
the station who saw this couldn’t help but comment on how awesome that was. “That’s Boston right there,” they
said as we all walked by a man in full military regalia waiting for a train
next to a bum sleeping on a bench who both threw up a hand in agreement. “Go
Boston!” The sox bring all kinds
of people together, bums, soldiers, drunk college students. Everyone was
feeling the Boston love that night. Amazing.
What a town. And what a team.
We are already planning a trip to Fort Meyers next Spring.
Last out!
World Series Champs!!!
World Series Champs!!!
Sweet Caroline
What a crowd.
From my nephew Chris who was at the Parade.
Big Papi had a lot to celebrate.
Thank you so much Meag for the commentary!!!! Funny you mention 03..my younger son was a senior at Berklee that year and we were in Boston then. As my son said a year later..what a time to not be in Boston..he had graduated in the spring of 04 and was in Nashville. We weren't lucky enough to have tickets but his apartment was on Burbank and you could hear everything. I SO enjoy your blogs!!!!
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