When October 27th, 2004 finally ended, I had to sit down and write down exactly what was going on in my head. My Sox had just won the world series. I was dizzy from lack of sleep, yet so excited I couldn't think of sleeping. So I sat down and wrote this down. I wrote so 10 years from now, or 50 years from now, I can sit down and read what I was thinking when the impossible happened. It was something I had always dreamed of. And it was better than I ever imagined. Here is the story with the picture I had waited an entire lifetime to take.
My wife nodded her head and told me to go get him. I had been asking her if it was time for me to go get our one year old son and wake him up. We planned to wake him when the Red Sox won the world series so he wouldn't miss it. I had been asking her for the last two innings, but she had said no, so as to not jinx our team. She had seen us lose too many games in the late innings. So now with one out in the bottom of the ninth, I was going into the nursery to wake him up.
He stirred when I picked him up and I whispered into his ear, 'Come see something no one's seen in 86 years'. I began to walk back into the living room and I remembered all the times I had thought 'this was the year' and it never happened. But right now at this very minute, it is actually possible. It is not just wishful thinking. It can actually happen.
As I held him in front of the TV I remembered many years ago, as a child, the hours I spent in the backyard of our house swinging an old wooden bat and dancing like Carlton Fisk waving the ball fair. Except when I did it, the home run was to win the championship.
I remembered for my birthday, every year as a child, I would close my eyes, cross my fingers and wish for my Red Sox to win the world series as I blew out the candles. My birthday was in September and by October, they had always let me down. I couldn't understand why my birthday wishes never came true.
My mind continues to spin as I remembered 1986 when we were one strike away from winning the world series and yet lost. I remembered my mom, who used to think baseball as dull and boring. She got hooked on the Red Sox that year but after their collapse in game six she refused to watch game seven with me stating that the game is too emotional and takes too much out of you. She left me alone to watch game seven and to this day we haven't seen a game together since. She told me she would never get hooked on them again. 'Never more,' she had told me, but it was funny she called earlier tonight to wish us luck. She still followed them, but I guess at a safe distance, one where they would not hurt her again.
As I stand in front of the TV, I continue to hold Austin and we watch the Red Sox get the second out in the ninth. I think back to last year. My wife was pregnant with Austin and all summer long, every day we watched every Red Sox game. When she gave birth to Austin, in the baby book, she wrote, 'You were born August 27th, and on your first weekend, the Red Sox beat the Yankees.'
I remember standing at this same place last year and watching Aaron Boone hit the home run to beat us in the playoffs. I was holding Austin then too and I remembered he had cried at that very moment. Debbie thought it was because I had yelled, but I think it was because he knew what had just happened. I had felt like I had done the worst thing a father could do to his son. I was supposed to protect him and keep him from harm, but I was allowing the Red Sox to do to him what I wouldn't allow anyone else and that was break his heart. After that game, my wife, with pain in her eyes, told me she wasn't going to watch them any more and she left me alone to watch the Yankees celebrate on the field.
I remember when April came, my wife, forgetting the pain the Sox inflicted on her, was the first to get tickets to the Red Sox games in Texas. She explained to me that the Red Sox are like being in a dysfunctional relationship. One where they treat you so badly but you love them so much, you always come back. We went to Texas and got swept by the Rangers and lost every game. I guess they were testing her love again. In one of the games, during the seventh inning stretch, all the Ranger fans were dancing and singing and having a good time. Then on the big screen at the stadium, after showing several Ranger fans having fun, a Red Sox fan came on the screen. He wasn't dancing, he wasn't singing. With a worried look on his face, he simply pointed to his left arm indicating it was time to go the bullpen. Upon seeing that, Debbie knew what it was like to be a Sox fan. Being a Red Sox fan is not fun. The games are work, we always have to be thinking of our next move. There is no time for fun, not until we win it all.
I turn up the volume on the TV and I turn around to tell Debbie we need three more strikes. She is pouring the champaign in preparation for the final out. As I turn back to the TV, I remember just a little over a week ago thinking we were done. I remember the excitement of the upcoming series with the Yankees. I remember us losing game 1 and hearing that Schilling, our best pitcher was injured and out for the year. I remember losing game 2 and how the Yankee fans had tormented Pedro Martinez. I remember my wife telling me she had seen enough in game 3 and she told me she felt betrayed for believing in them again. And while we were losing 19-8 we heard that no team had ever come back to win being down 3 games to none in a best of seven series.
Game 4 was a Sunday night and I remember not making it to sleep until 3 am. We hit a home run to win it in the 12th inning. That game was the longest playoff game ever, finishing in just over 5 hours and I had paced the floor for every minute.
I remember being dead tired for game 5 but I paced the floor for all 14 innings of this game. My nerves kept me from sitting. We won it in the bottom of the 14th and this one broke the record as the longest game ever breaking the record from the night before. I didn't sleep that night at all catching as much post game as possible and there was talk that Schilling was going to pitch game 6!
My wife had said that this was part of the curse. That they make us think they have a chance and then they will lose. We started to watch game 6 and noticed that Schilling had blood seeping through his sock from his ankle. It was like something from a movie. He gritted it out and left the game in the 8th with the lead. Immediately, our relief pitcher came in and gave up a run and the Yankees had the winning runs coming up to bat.
I thought we had lost it when A-rod caused our pitcher, Bronson Arroyo to drop the ball on a tag, but the umpires ruled that A-rod had slapped at the ball causing interference and he was called out. The Yankee fans then started throwing things on the field and the police had to line the field in riot gear. My wife and I looked at each other, both out of breath, all of this was unbelievable, could we actually beat the Yankees?
In the ninth inning, our closer came in and walked the first batter. The tying run was at the plate. Debbie started fanning her face and stated that she couldn't bear to watch anymore, that the Red Sox were making her angry and she stood up. She said she couldn't watch us blow this game after Schilling pitched so well on a bloody ankle, and she just walked away. She left me to watch the game by myself.
I watched our closer get the next two Yankees out, but then he walked the next batter which meant the winning run was at the plate. I had to tell Debbie we were one out away. I walked into the bedroom and all the lights were out. I then looked over to the corner of the room and there she was leaning against the wall. Her hands were on her knees and her head was bowed. Struggling through the darkness was the low sound of the radio play by play. The darkness provided a comfort and a sense of safety and it hid the pain the Red Sox was about to inflict. She looked up at me and there was uncertainty on her face. I didn't tell her we needed one more out, she knew.
I went back out to watch the final out and when it came, from the back room I heard a scream. She came running out of the bedroom jumping up and down. The Red Sox didn't let her down, and we were getting ready for game 7 tomorrow!
In typical Yankee arrogance, they had Bucky Dent throw out the first pitch, but it didn't help, game 7 wasn't even close and we beat them 10-3. The Red Sox celebrated in Yankee Stadium, it was something I thought I would never see. Players were taking pictures and saving clumps of dirt from the field. It was unbelievable!
And now, as I hold Austin here in the ninth inning of game 4 of the world series, I feel my legs are weak from lack of sleep. I haven't shaved in two weeks, not wanting to jinx my team. The carpet is actually worn thin where I have paced back and forth the last couple of weeks. Now just one out away, but I have been this close before. And then there is a ground ball to our pitcher, ... he has it, ... he tosses it to first. It is over! My wife snaps a picture to prove we saw it. Eighty Six years of losing is now past. I can't believe it. I collapse to the ground.
As the Red Sox players run onto the field to celebrate, I notice that our center fielder, number 18, runs over and embraces our right fielder, number 19. As they jump up and down in celebration, their shoulders touch and their jersey numbers come together. It forms the date '1918', the last year we had won the world series. It serves as one final reminder of how long we have all waited for this one moment. We don't have to wait any longer. We can finally sing and dance during the seventh inning stretch. We can finally have fun.
The Red Sox - MY Red Sox, are World Champions. - at last !
No comments:
Post a Comment