Got root?

It has taken a couple of days for this to all sink in.

Okay, I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not the world’s biggest basketball fan. In fact, if you made me rank it, I’d rank it 4th among the four major sports: baseball/football tied for first, then hockey, then basketball.

And since the days of Bird, Parrish, McHale, Maxwell and Ainge, NBA hoops was far down on the list. Far down.

To me, the game evolved away from a team game and into an urban playground game of who could be the baddest ass and dunk the best.

Then, a year ago, Danny Ainge pulled the proverbial rabbit out of his hat, in response to an abyssmal season, and even more abyssmal luck (as if it were possible)in the draft. There was some buzz about Celtics basketball again.

Even without the Celtics buzz, it’s been a great decade to be a Boston fan!

OK, in the interest of full disclosure, I’m a NY Giants football fan (don’t ask, long story, subject of another post), but watching the Pats has become a second favorite obsession with me. Between the Pats and my beloved Red Sox, how could you not love Boston sports?????

And then there was the second worst season in Celtics history, resulting in the second worst record in the NBA, and I’m figuring they’re getting Odin. Yeah, right.

Instead, when the ping-pong balls throw a 5th place pick, Ainge starts wheeling and dealing and gets Garnett and Allen.

I decided to watch some early season games. Then, I decided to watch a few more. And when I couldn’t watch, I’d check stuff out on-line….

The other night the Celtic annihilated the Lakers. They cried ‘Havoc’ and let slip the dogs of war — crying ‘Havoc’ meant no mercy, no quarter. Every time Ray Allen drained a three, the stake was driven a little bit deeper into the heart of LA…. And every trey made me love these guys a little bit more….

And so Banner #17 will hang from the rafters. Somewhere, Red is enjoying the cigar he gave to Paul Pierce with instructions: “I won’t be there. Hang on to this and enjoy it for me.” Somewhere, DJ was sitting back with Red and lovin’ every minute of it…

The last seven years in Boston have been pretty incredible. Three Patriot Supes, two World Series (one for the grandparents and one for the current generation, as they say) and now Celtic Green has another. All we need is for the Bruins to get off the schneid….

Way to go Boston! Way To Go!!!!!!

Technorati Tags: sports, Celtics, championship, basketball, baseball, football

Ah, Julio Lugo. Four years for $36 million dollars.

For what? He’s lousy at the plate. A decent base stealer when he gets on (which seems rare these days — and last year too) but that’s probably about it.

For the second time in three nights Lugo booted an easy grounder which kept an inning alive which ended up costing the Sox two runs.

Poor, poor Julio. He says everyone is too negative. Well, Julio, here’s a positive for you: you are positively stinkin’ up the joint!

Theo Epstein has done a phenomenal job of building this team up, but I don’t understand where his predilection for messing with shortstop comes from. So Cabrera may have partied too much. He eventually settled down and was great while he was here. Then we got Edgar Rent-a-wreck who had a lousy tenure here in Boston because he couldn’t stand the pressure. (Take heart Edgar — at the pace Lugo is going he’s going to make your tenure here look like Hall of Fame material). Then Gonzalez who was great defensively and would have been fine.

But instead Theo brings in Lugo, who supposedly was going to be this offensive force.
He’s offensive alright….

Here’s a positive tip for Julio: take some extra infield practice!!!

So I’m watching the Sox game on Tuesday night, when JD Drew (the Sox $14 million/year right fielder) hits a ground ball, tries to hustle it out, and gets tossed out at first base. Nothing new, although he has been better this year than last.

Next thing you know he’s out of the game. Seems he “slightly strained” his quad. Oh boy, could be a stint on the DL coming up!

In the top of the 9th, with a runner on second, Toronto CF Vernon Wells rips one back up the middle, and Dustin Pedroia saves the game, diving to make the stop and throwing Wells out. (Remember this play — it’s important).

So, they get to the bottom of the ninth in a 0-0 game, and Big Papi ends up on second base after a single and a walk to Manny. But there’s not really anyone to run for him. Why? Because JD Drew is sittin’ on the bench, meaning that Brandon Moss was in the game (and not available to run) and Ellsbury has a groin strain. So, the only one they could have put in was Lowrie. Tito elected to stay with Papi.

Fortunately, Youk hits a single that Wells bobbles and Big Papi hustles home, Red Sox wins 1-0.

Now, to Wednesday night’s game……

It seems that on the dive play the night before, Pedroia jammed his shoulder. But guess who’s leading off the game and playing 2B? Right, Pedroia. Guess who’s not playing? Right, $14 Million Man of Glass Drew.

Late in the game, there was a similar situation — Big Papi on second and only Lowrie to run for him. Well, Lowrie did, and a perfect throw by Vernon Wells and some excellent defense by Toronto’s catcher lead to Lowrie being thrown out.

Manny moved to second and ‘Tek brought him in.

So, what’s interesting to me is this:

JD Drew, $14 million /year, 2nd on the Sox salary list.
Dustin Pedroia, $457,000/hear, 20th on the Sox salary list.

Which one plays his ass off, hurt?

In terms of “worth to the team”, I’d vote that we switch those salaries……

(Previously on Boston Red Sox Championship Run 2004, the Sox had managed to avoid the sweep by drawing a walk, stealing a base, hitting a single, waiting three innings, and having Big Papi hit his second walk-off homer of the post season.)

The Morning After
When I arrived at work the next morning, one of those crisp, sunny fall days that only seem to occur in mid-October in New England, the rest of my fellow Sox fans were buzzing. Part of it seemed to be relief that the Sox had avoided the ignominious fate of being swept. The rest of it was the fact that Pedro was pitching that night.

Now, anyone who knows anything about the Sox has probably seen that video clip of Kevin Millar saying (just before game 4) “Don’t let us win tonight. Don’t let us win tonight because if we win tonight, we’ve got Pedro going in Game 5, Schlling in Game 6, and anything can happen in Game 7.” I think that there was a part of each one of us that figured that with Pedro on the mound, in Fenway, that the Sox stood a very good chance of winning the game.

For myself, I wasn’t even really worried that Mussina was pitching for the Yankees. I figured that he wouldn’t be going perfect through six again.

Because the NLCS game was nationally televised at 8pm (or 8:30pm, I can’t remember), the Red Sox game was a 5:30 pm start. I figured I could listen to Castiglione and Truppiano on the way home, then watch the game. I also figured, with it being a 5:30 pm start I’d probably get to bed at a decent hour.

All day we’d work, and talk about the Sox, and work, and talk about the Sox. My boss, who hails from England, and who is not a sport nut (or even a casual fan) by any stretch of the imagination, must’ve been going nuts listening to us go on and on about the Sox.

On the way out to go home, I looked over at my buddy Dave and said “Go Sox!” It was to be our rallying cry over the next few nights.

Gettin’ My Game Face On
I came out of work, and the air had that fresh, mid-autumn feel. You know that Halloween is just around the corner, and that Thanksgiving will be hard on the heels of that, all of which leads into the Christmas shopping season and Christmas itself. It was hard to feel anything at all but anticipation — anticipation of a wonderful fall and early winter, anticipation of the Red Sox playing at home. Whether or not the butterflies in my stomach were anticipation or nerves was anybody’s guess.

I got in the car, tuned into WTIC-1080 AM, which is our local carrier for the Sox, and listened to the start of the game. My thoughts were switching back and forth between Pedro facing the Yanks and the late afternoon sun filtering through the brilliant fall foliage as I made my way back towards I-384 to connect with I-84.

My stomach was already worked up pretty good. It wasn’t so much, at that point, “can we win this thing?”, it was more along the lines of “well, we have Pedro pitching, and if he can win, we can at least send things back to the Bronx.”

Let’s face it. No team in baseball had ever come back from a 3-0 deficit to take a series. Hell, no team had ever even been able to force a seventh game! Nope, the Sox could make it sorta respectable if they won this one. No one was even thinking about them being able to sweep four in a row from the vaunted Yankees. It was still very much (for me at least), let’s keep in respectable.

Game On
Pedro handled the Yanks fairly easily in the first. He struck out Jeter, walked Rodriguez, struck out Sheffield, and got Matsui to fly out. Great. Good start for Petey.

The Sox put up two in their half of the inning to take an early 2-0 lead. Mussina wasn’t close to perfect this time around. A couple of singles by Cabrera and Manny, a couple of walks (one to Varitek with bases loaded) and the Sox put up a couple. Okay, there’s a long way to go. And, truth be told, none of us knew how long!

Home again
Somewhere after that I got home. My wife was making supper, and I spent some time with her watching the game on the small TV in the kitchen. The Yanks got one back in the top of the second to make it 2-1, and then we settled down to some scoreless ball for a while.

Both teams had their chances over next four innings, although nothing materialized. At one point, I had even thought of going with my wife and daughters to the party store to pick up some things for Halloween. We’d kicked it back and forth a couple of times, and just before she left, she said to me “You probably really want to stay here and watch this, so go ahead, we’ll be fine.” I said “Yeah, I do,” thinking to myself that I was like a moth drawn to a flame.

I settled into the living room chair, and within a nanosecond was on the edge of it. I’d be on that edge until a commercial came on, and as soon as the game came back on I was back on the edge. The missed chances for the Sox were piling up on me. There were not a lot, but each one, each strikeout, each fly out, haunted me and wrenched at my guts. I knew that it would take more than a one-run lead to beat the Yanks.

Here We Go Again
The Yanks struck in the top of the 6th, and struck big. Couple of hits, a hit batsman, and the Yanks loaded the bases. Jeter was up, 0-fer-the-game so far. Never a good thing. His double plated everyone and left him standing on 3rd base on the throw home to try and nab Cairo, and the Yanks suddenly had a 4-2 lead.

Just like the night before, it was the top of the 6th, but this time the damned Yankees had a two run lead. The way the Sox were playing, it might well have been insurmountable. About the only good thing was that there were two outs.

Petey made it interesting. If my guts weren’t churning before (oh yes, they were) they would be positively turned insideout before that last out was recorded. He proceded to hit A-Rod, and walk Sheffield. Matsui was up. For a millisecond, I wondered if this was Game 7, 2003 all over again.

Matsui came through for the Sox fans this time, finally lining out to right and ending the inning.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
The Red Sox had work to do. But you couldn’t tell by the bottom of the 6th, with a one-two-three inning: Zero runs, zero hits, zero men left on. Not good. Damn! Not good!!!

But Timlin came in after that and held the Yankees.

The Sox threatened fairly large in the home half of the seventh, with a Bellhorn double, and a Cabrera walk, but Manny hit into a 5-4-3 double play, and time was starting to ebb away. I had a momentary flash of Jim Rice hitting into inning ending double plays back in the day. I had to push that out of my mind. Getting late — gut check time.

The Yanks made it interesting (very interesting) in the top of the 8th, with a Cairo double, and a Jeter sacrifice bunt to move him to 3rd, with just ONE OUT! Timlin managed to strike out A-Rod, but walked Sheffield and was done for the night. Tito went to Foulke, who induced Matsui into a harmless fly to left. PHEW! (No, double PHEW).

“C’mon, let’s DO SOMETHING you guys!” I was thinking as the Sox came up in the bottom of the 8th. Just two “ups” left, and you’re down by two. Can you fer-eakin’ DO SOMETHING.

Somewhere back around the 7th inning, my wife came home with the girls. She put them to bed in time to join me for the top of the 8th.

“Not good,” I said. “Who’s up?”, she asked. “Big Papi.”

David Ortiz. The Big Papi. I swear, in the 2004 post season, it seems like Big Papi could almost just “will” anything to happen. The Sox needed runs, and Big Papi obliged. The pitch, the swing, the ball traveling out to hit square into the middle of the Volvo sign on top of the Green Monster! WOW! Sox trail 4-3. Okay, I’ll take that…..

Deja Vu You Know The Rest….
I took a moment to sit back in the chair. I could barely breathe, and alternated between wanted to crawl out of my skin or curl up into a little ball on the chair.

Millar was up next. Mr. “Cowboy Up” drew another walk. In came Dave Roberts to pinch run. I remember thinking to myself “No, history doesn’t repeat itself….or does it?”
Millar had done what he needed to to — get a man on base with no outs, and we had Mientkiewicz for defensive purposes to sub in at first. Ok. Let’s get Roberts home.

Trot Nixon came up, and promptly singled, moving Roberts to 3rd base and chasing Tom Gordon (who’d replace Sturtze the inning before) from the game. While Mariano Rivera was warming up, Gabe Kapler came out to run for Trot. Okay, some speed on the bases, no outs, and Jason Varitek coming up. I had a good feeling we could tie it, even if ‘Tek hit into a double play.

‘Tek did not disappoint, lofting a sac fly to center which scored Roberts. After a Mueller ground out and a Bellhorn strike out the Sox were done for the 8th. But it was a brand new ball game.

Hopkinton to Boston, 26.2 Miles, The Marathon…
The Yankees and the Sox are never content to just play each other. No, they slug it out like two prize fighters, tired of boxing, just going toe to toe, pummeling each other until one cannot answer back, and the game ends. I figured that the next inning was going to be spectacular.

It wasn’t. Oh, it was interesting but it was not spectacular.

In the Yanks half of the ninth, they got a runner as far as 3rd base, following a Sierra walk and a Tony Clark double, but Foulke got Cairo to pop out to end the inning, and no runs scored.

At that point, I figured with the heart of the Sox order coming up, it was fairly certain that they could plate a run, win the game, and head to the Bronx. I was starting to believe in the Sox. Surely they’d wrap it up in dramatic fashion, I thought.

I was right — but it would be five more innings, (half of another game!) before that happened.

Damon singled, but was caught stealing, and Orlando and Manny did nothing…. Time to head for extra innings….

Bronson Arroyo, he of the blond cornrows, came in to face the Yanks in the top of the 10th, and turned in a 1-2-3 inning. In the bottom of the 10th, the Sox did nothing, but managed to strand Mientkiewicz at 3rd base. Argghhhhh, it kinda reminded me of the 10th inning in Game 6, 1975 (only then it was Denny Doyle who was thrown out trying to score on a Fred Lynn fly out to left).

Mike Myers (the lefty out of the Sox bullpen, not the actor) pitched to Matsui in the top of the 11th, and induced a strikeout, furthering Matsui’s tough evening (just one hit over 7 at bats). Alan Embree took over from there, gave up a single but then retired the side……

Okay, I thought, Phew! Now it is time for the Sox to wrap this thing up.

And they almost did….

In the bottom of the 11th, the Sox put men on 1st and 2nd with no outs, after Mueller and Bellhorns singled. Johnny “Jesus” Damon popped up a bunt to the catcher, and the Sox stranded their two runners when Carbrera hit into a double play….. Arghhhhhh!!!!!!

Enter The Knuckler
In the top of the 12th, Tim Wakefield replaced Allan Embree. Wake really amazed me in this Series. He gave up a start to pitch some innings to save the bullpen in Game 3. He had pitched in relief in Game 1 as well. Now, in Game 5, in extra innings, he came in to pitch some quality innings. At that point, who knew how long this game was going to go.

He didn’t have his personal catcher though, as Tito was not going to sub in Mirabelli for ‘Tek, so I remember thinking things might get interesting.

And to be honest, I remember thinking about Aaron Boone’s shot to left the year before.

But Wake was stellar. He struck out Tony Clark, and gave up a hit to Cairo, who advanced to second on an error by Manny. With Jeter and A-Rod coming up, I got a little nervous. Despite watching it on TV, listening to the Fox guys do the play-by-play, I could hear Joe Castiglione in my head saying “and the go-ahead run is in scoring position….”

But Wake got Jeter to fly out, and got A-Rod to do the same. Okay, c’mon Sox, can you just WIN this thing?????

Nope…… Although it was a bit interesting in the home half of the 12th.

After Manny popped out, David Ortiz drew a walk. I’m not sure if it was a busted hit and run with Mientkiewicz at the plate or what, but next thing I know, Ortiz is taking off, hell bent for leather, down to second base. I’m thinking to myself “What the hell is Big Papi trying to steal for????” And you know, he made it safely. Oh, the ump called him out, but just like with Roberts steal in game 4, I’ve watched this frame by frame, and he did slide in under the tag. He argued, but to no avail. Mientkiewicz fanned to end the inning.

Catch it ‘Tek!
In spite of the fact that it wrenched my guts into the biggest knot I can ever remember having, and the fact that I was wearing out the front edge of the chair cushion, in retrospect the Yanks half of the 13th inning was pretty entertaining.

Tim Wakefield throws the knuckleball. Bob Eucker, the broadcaster, once said that the easiest way to catch a knuckleball was to wait until it stopped rolling and pick it up. Wake’s normal catcher, Doug Mirabelli, was sitting on the bench, and ‘Tek was the other half of the battery this evening.

Wake promptly struck out Gary Sheffield to start the inning, but the 3rd strike was a passed ball, and Sheffield made it to first. Okay. You don’t see that so often, but can we please get these guys out????

Matsui forced Sheffield with an infield grounder, and then Bernie Williams flied out. Okay, two outs, man on first, this should be pretty simple.

Jorge Posada was up, and another knuckler got by ‘Tek. Matsui down to second. I can’t remember the last time I saw two passed balls in an inning. The Sox intentionally walked Posada to set up an easy infield play, and Reuben Sierra came up. Oops, here comes the knuckler, and oops, their goes the knuckler…… Now it was men on 2nd and 3rd with two out. Can we please get somebody out????

Yes! Sierra struck out.

The Home Stretch
It was geting late. The game had been going since 5:30pm, and at this point I’m pretty sure that the Houston-St. Louis game was about over. The Sox and Yanks were still going….

In the home half of the 13th, the Sox went 1-2-3. In the top of the 14th, Wake put the Yanks down in order as well.

I needed a beer. I wanted a beer. I didn’t dare leave my seat.

The Sox had the top of the order coming up in the bottom of the 14th inning, after Bellhorn, who was batting 9th. He struck out. Johnny Damon drew a walk.

At this point, I wasn’t getting all excited. Carbrera had hit into a double play earlier in the game, ending a rally, and figured he might do the same here. It was getting late, and the players had to be getting tired. Under the circumstances, Orlando’s strike out wasn’t great, but it did not kill the rally.

Manny worked a walk off Esteban Loiza, who was pitching his 3rd inning of relief. That meant men on first and second with Big Papi coming to the plate.

Big Papi’s at bat was one of the best I’ve ever seen. I kept expecting him to hit a home run. Was there any member of Red Sox nation who wasn’t? But he kept fouling off pitches, working Loiza. Finally, he did all that he needed to do. He blooped a little single out into center field. The speedy Johnny Damon came tearing around to score, and Big Papi had given the Red Sox their second, extra-inning, walk-off victory in as many nights.

The game that started at 5:30 ended at 11:21pm…. so much for getting to bed early.

And, oh yeah, we’re headed to the Bronx!!!

(Previously on Boston Red Sox Championship Run 2004, we left the Olde Towne Nine heading into the bottom of the 9th, trailing by one, down 3 games to none, with Mariano Rivera coming in to pitch…)

“De profundis clamavi ad te Domine”
In the depths of despair, I got up and shut off the television. The overwhelming feeling, after the heart-wrenching loss in 2003, and the poor performance to date in this ALCS, was that I couldn’t bear to see the Yankees celebrating on the pitchers mound at Fenway.

Oh Ye of Little Faith
The next morning I got up, and started to get ready for work. In the light of day, the despair of the previous evening had sort of left, and I had already started to steel myself for the “wait till next year” lines I’d hear from my friends who are Yankee fans. At that point, I did what I couldn’t do the night before — I turned on the TV to watch the Yankees celebrate on the pitchers mound of Fenway Park.

“Then saith he to Thomas, reach hither thy finger, and behold my hands”
I turned to ESPN, and was waiting for the footage, when I noticed the scrolling banner beneath the screen saying “Schilling, Game 6 if necessary”.

I thought to myself, “Game 6 if necessary, that must mean there will be a Game 5!”

I quickly tuned in to NESN Sports Desk and saw the tail end of Big Papi’s home run to seal the victory in the 12th.

What I did not see then, I’ve seen a thousand times since…
It sounds so simple.

Millar (or, if you’re from Boston, Millaaah), worked a walk off the mighty Mariano Rivera. Millar isn’t a Hall of Famer, and he tends to be better in the second half of the season (or not, as 2005 proved), but he’s a leader in the clubhouse, and keeps the team loose. One other thing he is not is fleet of foot.

That being the case, Tito promptly substituted Dave Roberts as a pinch runner.

Now, Roberts had come over during the time of the Nomar trade, and was an outfielder. He was also the fastest guy on the Sox. Everyone in Fenway knew, including Mariano Rivera, that Roberts was going the small ball route and going to attempt to steal second.

Writing this now, in retrospect, I’m reminded of Vince Lombardi’s Green Bay Packers. They didn’t “out-fancy” you on the field. They ran solid, fundamental plays, and just plain out-executed you. Everyone watching, including the defense, knew they were going to run the Packer sweep. And they’d run it. And in the process they’d run right over the opponent.

That’s kind of the way it was with Roberts. Everyone, but everyone, knew he was going for second. Rivera threw his way a couple of times to try and keep him close. But, the first time Rivera went towards home to throw a pitch, Roberts was off.

The play-by-play simply notes “Roberts stole second.” Three words. Only three words. But, in those three words, in the couple of seconds it took for Roberts to haul down to second base, 86 years of history hung, literally, in the balance.

I’ve watched the replay countless times. It took watching it frame-by-frame for me to see for the first time that, yes, Dave Roberts was indeed safe. I still have problems seeing it for sure in real time. Thank God that the ump saw it right.

When the dust settled, Roberts stood on second, “in scoring position”, and there were no outs. If the Sox were going to tie it up, they were in good position to do so.

Bill Mueller came up. Had I been watching, I surely would have recalled that Bill Mueller stung Rivera with a two run homer back in that watershed game on July 24. Of course, I missed that one too. I heard it on the radio, but had left the house to go pick up pizza, and missed seeing it until the highlights. As much as I love baseball, sometimes when your wife asks you for the third time in that tone of voice if you’re picking up the pizza, you go pick up the pizza and watch highlights later.

So now, with everything on the line, Mueller had the biggest hit of his Red Sox career, a single back up the middle. The fleet footed Roberts came around to score, and the Sox had new life.

“And that’s the way it was…”
The Sox almost won it in the bottom of the 9th. After a few more Sox came up, Big Papi had a chance to win it with a hit, but popped up. He’d wait three more innings to make up for it.

In the bottom of the 12th, he deposited one into the bullpen, and the Sox had avoided the sweep.

All of this occurred while I was asleep.

To be continued…..

(Previously on Boston Red Sox Championship Run: the Sox drop two in the Bronx, and are heading home to tie up the Series….)

Game 3, ALCS

What was supposed to happen on Friday night ending up happening on Saturday night because of the torrential rains all day on Friday.

Even still, Saturday was nasty. It had rained during the day, it was damp and raw and cold, and all of that was somehow fitting for the massacre that would occur in Fenway that night. Ever since Wednesday evening’s close loss in the Bronx, the weather in New England was grey, dark and nasty. Fall in New England can be beautiful, with brilliant, flaming hues of foliage, Indian summer days, and crisp nights. But when it turns grey, and dark, and nasty and rainy, you can understand what Herman Melville was talking about when he used the phrase “November in my soul.”

The game that evening is hard to describe. Not because I don’t have the words, but because, due to other commitments, I had to be out. I did catch some of it at the end, and it wasn’t pretty. No, it wasn’t pretty, not by a long shot. In fact, it looked pretty damned ugly if you want the truth.

I guess you could say over the first three innings, the Sox and Yankees slugged it out like two heavyweights going toe-to-toe, giving up on all hope of blocking punches and just pummeling away at each other. After three full, it was 6-6.

Then the rout began. Over the next four innings the Yankees put up 11 runs to the Red Sox 2, and added two more for insurance, pasting a 19-8 drubbing on the Sox.

It was some ugly baseball. Period.

There was one small thing to note however, something that, when time had run its course, would turn out to be pretty huge. Tim Wakefield, the man who threw the final pitch in the ALCS the year before, the longest tenured member of the Red Sox, and the consumate team player, gave up his opportunity to start the Game 4 in order that he might throw some relief innings to try and stop the bleeding. Like I said, it didn’t seem like much at the time, but it would have a huge impact down the line.

Aftermath

I’d be flat out lying if I said anything other than the fact that on Sunday, which dawned beautifully sunny and cool, by the way, I had several main thoughts in my head:

1. First, I was dejected, because no team, save for a couple of hockey teams, had ever come back from being down 3-0 in a series. Hockey is a very different sport than baseball, so I wasn’t getting my hopes up.
2. It was a total bummer to have followed this team, that fought so brilliantly after the Nomar trade and dust-up between ‘Tek and A-Rod, that made it back to the ALCS to face their arch-rivals, and have them fail so miserably.
3. My only hope was for a victory to at least avoid a sweep.

A Sox Fan Turns To Prayer…
The day after the fiasco of Game 3, that sunny but cool Sunday, was the day my stepson was getting confirmed. My parish is very heavily Yankee country. Oh, there are a few of us who support the Olde Towne Team, but for the most part, the parishoners and pastor cut their baseball teeth on Ruth, Gehrig, Mantle, Maris and all the rest. My Yankee fan friends, my brother-in-law and our priest all consoled me with words of sympathy: “Gee, I don’t understand what has happened to the Sox — I really expected a lot more to handle than this.”

And so there I was, sitting there in the church, gazing at the beautiful figure of Christ in his Risen Glory on the stained glass window up behind the altar, (and truth be told realizing that to that point in time the “savior” of the Red Sox, Johnny Damon — he of the “What Would Johnny Damon Do? t-shirts and Christ-like haircut– was 1-for-13 with just 1 RBI.)

Then, I did something that I hadn’t done since I was 7 years old, and had only done that one time before in my life - I prayed for a victory. Oh, I wasn’t selfish. I didn’t pray for them to come back and win the whole thing, or anything silly like that.

When I was seven, I was rooting so hard for the Green Bay Packers in the NFL Championship game against the Cowboys (known these days as the Ice Bowl) that I actually knelt in church before Mass and prayed for a Packer victory.

Almost 40 years later, I knelt in church before the Bishop arrived to begin the confirmation Mass, and I prayed a simple prayer: “Please God, don’t let them get swept. That’s all, please just let them win one.”

And that was that. I let it go until game time……

Game 4, ALCS, Sunday October 17, 2004

Game Four. After the slugfest the evening before, a game that finished just a bit shy of the four and a half hour mark, the Yankees looked poised to sweep their way into another World Series.

And because of the length of the game, and the utter rout inflicted on the Red Sox, Derek Lowe was starting. Lowe, who’d been banished to the bullpen for poor starts down the stretch was an enigma to me. I always said he was Forest Gump’s box of chocolates — you never quite new what you were going to get. A no-hitter one time, a complete rout the next. Still, when his sinker was working, you got a lot of ground outs, and after the Nomar trade shored up the infield defense, that was not necessarily a bad thing.

The Yankees struck first, though, in the 3rd inning. Jeter got on base, A-Rod blasted a home that ended up out on Lansdowne Street, and the Yanks took a 2-0 lead. This did provide one comic moment though, as the ball came sailing back from the street into center field. Johnny Damon fired it back over the wall and into the street. A few moments later, the ball came flying back into center field. The ump finally pocketed the ball.

The Sox, realizing their backs were against the wall, got a rally going in the fifth and plated 3 runs. The lead was slim, 3-2, and it was too early in the game. Those life-long “Sox jitters” came back, and I sat on the edge of my seat, guts churning, and worrying.

I didn’t have to worry long. Lowe gakked up a triple to Matsui in the top half of the next inning, and was relieved by Mike Timlin. He didn’t fare all that well, and by the middle of the 6th, the Yankees had regained the lead. It seemed to me that they had their killer instinct going, and the Sox were indeed going to get swept.

Foulke game in to replace Timlin in the 7th inning, and in retrospect, he did a helluva job, going 3 innings.

“Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned…”
I guess now would be a good time for me to belly up to the bar, and take a few lumps. In 2004 I had been a Sox fan for 38 years. I had seen them win the pennant in 1967 by half a game, then lose in 7 games to a superlative Bob Gibson and the Cardinals. I’d seen Carlton Fisk blast a home run for the ages in 1975, then lose the 7th game to the Reds. I’d gotten home just in time to see Bucking F-ing Dent deposit the ball in the the left field screen in 1978, and Yaz pop up to end it. And I was sitting in a room in the Willard Hotel in Washington, DC on a night in 1986 when the Sox were within a strike of winning the whole thing, and of course, all I need to say is one word: Buckner.

So, when it came down to the bottom of the ninth inning, with Mariano Rivera coming in to save it for the Yanks, I gave in to the bitter gall that rose up within me. I forgot how Rivera blew a save that lost the 2001 World Series. I forgot Billy Mueller’s home run in July that won the game. I lost track of the fact that Billy Mueller would be hitting in the bottom of the 9th. And worst of all, I gave into despair. The overwhelming thought in my head was “I cannot bear to see the smug, smarmy, cocky bastards in pinstripes jumping all over the mound in Fenway park.” I got up, I shut the TV off, and I went to bed……

To be continued……

(Previously on Boston Red Sox Championship Run 2004: the Sox sweep the Angels on the strength of Big Papi’s walk-off home run in the 10th inning…..)

So there we were, headed into the weekend (October 9/10 2004) with the ALCS opponent still to be decided. My co-worker Dave had a little open house at his place after doing some serious home improvement, and the Sox fans among us were trying to decide who we wanted to face — did we match up better against the Twins? Did we want to face the Yankees again? What was more important — getting to the Series and winning or beating the Yankees?

(For my money, it was beating the Yankees, getting to the Series and winning….)

By the end of the weekend, we knew — it would be the Yankees, and the series that every Red Sox fan had been hoping for would be starting on Tuesday night, October 12, in the heart of the Evil Empire, Yankee Stadium.

Game 1, ALCS

We were pumped. Curt Schilling against Mike Mussina. We didn’t want to just win, we wanted to crush the Yankees. We wanted to stun them the same way that they had stunned us the year before. We wanted them to feel the embarrassment of losing to the Red Sox for a change.

Yeah, Yankee fans are smug. You can be smug when you’ve collected 26 rings, and have hardly ever had to face adversity. Oh sure, there were those “lean years” between 1978 and 1996, but nothing like what the Sox had faced and dealt with. Adversity can make you strong — but the kind of snakebit luck the Sox had in 1947, 1967 (okay, not so totally bad), 1975, 1978 (Bucky’s middle initial will always be “F” to Boston fans) and, ohmygodpleasesayitwonthappenagain 1986, does some strange things to a fan.

As a result, no lead is ever big enough for a Sox fan. They could be up 6-0 in the top of the 8th, and the fans will still be waiting for some bizarre, unexpected, totallyfreakingweird turn of events that cause them to lose 7-6.

But, this was game one. I was pumped.

After all of that waiting and speculating and looking forward to spanking the Yankees, all that happened was Curt Schilling (who arrived at the stadium with speculation about his ankle running rampant) just imploded on the mound, giving up 6 runs in 3 innings. That was a huge surprise, and made me totally uneasy. If Schilling was hurt (and clearly he was), then our chances were seriously affected. No, we were in deep doo-doo.

Meantime, Mussina was perfect — no, really, PERFECT, as in no hits, no runs, no errors, no baserunners — through 6 full. Wakefield, on in relief, gave up 2 in the 6th to spot the Yankees to an 8-0 lead.

Then, in what we all hoped would be a sign of things to come, the Red Sox got to Mussina, and their bats awakened. Over the next two the put up 7 runs to make the game interesting.

But, Timlin gave up 2 more in the 8th, and that was basically that. Final score: Evil Empire 10, Red Sox 8.

Aftermath

I was bummed, but not seriously so. The general wisdom usually is that if you’re starting a 7 game series on the road, if you can gain a split then the advantage swings back to you. And besides, didn’t the Red Sox go down 0-2 to the Mets in the 1986 World Series????

Pedro was going the next night, and inspite of all of the “Who’s Your Daddy” crap, I figured Pedro would pitch one helluva game and we’d be doing back to Boston tied at 1 game apiece. We could worry about Curt’s performance after that….

Game 2, ALCS

Petey was taking the mound, the Sox were going to tie up the Series with the Yankees, and all was right with the world.

And actually, it was through five and a half….kinda sorta.

Pedro gave up a run in the 1st. Nothing major, no reason to panic. Pedro gives up runs on occasion. The Sox have some might hefty bats and they’re going against Lieber, so again, no reason to panic.

By the time the bottom of the sixth inning rolled around, the Red Sox lineup looked like it was full of Pedro Ceranos from the movie Major League — “bats no like curve ball” and it was not looking good.

When Petey finally tired, giving up a two run homer to John Olerud in the bottom of the 6th, things began to look even worse. The Sox got one back, but then the Yankees pulled yet another little bit of magic out of their pinstriped butts….

Mariano Rivera had been back home in Panama for a funeral for a family member. He’d hopped a plane, and arrived at the stadium late. And of course, he came in the close the game out. It was such a “Yankee moment”……

Aftermath

Well, like I said, we’d been down 2-0 to the Mets in 1986, so there’s nothing to worry about right? Right? Right???

I was a bit nervous. Johnny Damon was 0-fer-the-series-so-far (0-8 actually). No one else was hitting, save Big Papi, and when they were it wasn’t at opportune times. One ace was hurting, our other ace had thrown a superb game but with no run support.

I took a deep breath and figured that maybe, just maybe, Fenway might be a bit more friendly. And we’d be back there on Thursday, October 14th…. The Sox were heading home.

With the baseball season almost upon us (Opening Day is in less than three weeks now), I have been thinking a lot about the Red Sox 2004 World Series win. Okay, unless you were stranded on Mars for the last 90 years, everyone knows that it was their first WS win in 86 seasons. I know I will never forget it, even if they somehow win the next ten in a row…..

Now, it has been a year and a half, and I remember things pretty vividly. I also have the DVD collection of the ALCS and WS. But the way all those games personally affected me won’t have been captured on the DVD. The feelings I had, the utter “go for broke”, excitement of total abandon, won’t be captured anywhere but in my head. So, I decided to write about it.

So, here goes…. This is my retrospective on those three weeks in October of 2004.

October 16-17 2003
Okay, so I went back before 2004 for this one. We all know what happened. Probably the only notable thing about this game was the fact that the Sox had yet another seventh game opportunity to do it to us again. They were ahead by five runs. My wife, a baseball fan, but not a total strategy nut like me, was upbeat. I was nervous, very nervous.

Did you ever see a horror movie where the good guys (usually a couple of guys, and a least one well-endowed girl wearing a something that either starts out as very revealing or ends up that way after the all the crap they go through) are almost out of the “bad place” — you pick it: jungle, cave, haunted house. They’re mere yards away from safety when the monster or bad guy in a hockey mask, or whatever, manages to grab one of the guys and kill him.

That’s the way any tried and true, dyed in the wool, Red Sox fan felt that evening when they were up by five. You just knew it was coming. You knew that Buckner, Bucky F-ing Dent, or a phenomenally fired up Bob Gibson was going to appear.

I kept telling my wife that they’d find a way to let it slip away. When Grady Little came to the mound after Pedro had given up a couple of doubles, my wife said to me, “Phew, they’re taking him out!” I had wished they’d gone to their solid bullpen to start the inning, but I too was relieved. When Little walked back to the dugout, leaving a tired Pedro in, well, you know that monster was getting closer and closer.

The Yankees tied it up, and a journeyman infielder parked a Wakefield knuckler in the 11th, and that was that.

Truth be told, that monster hadn’t just gotten the guy and chewed him up — no, that monster reached out of the movie screen and punched me right below the belt just before the final credits rolled……

It took me a lot of hours before I could finally get to sleep. It took me a lot of months before I could finally say “Well, maybe next year.”

Regular Season 2004
So much has been written about the entire Red Sox season in 2004. They started off with so much promise in April and May, then went into a long stretch of mediocre .500 baseball. It was maddening, becuase you had a feeling that they had even more talent than in 2003.

The big turning points obviously were the Nomar Garciaparra trade — which brought much needed defense — and the game against the Yankees on July 24. That game saw the Sox get into a brawl with the Yanks, started by A-Rod and Jason Varitek. It ended with a two run walkoff homer by Billy Mueller against Mariano Rivera. I don’t think anyone knew it at the time, but something changed that day.

The Sox came close to catching the Yanks, ended up clinching the Wild Card spot down in Tampa, and celebrated just a little bit, before finishing up the season. Down the stretch, the playoff picture took a long time to form so we (my wife, my friends and other Sox fans) talked and debated who we thought the Sox would get, and who they might match up with. Beneath it all, we all wanted one thing — a chance to pay back the Yankees.

Red Sox vs. Angels
The Sox first playoff game since the Night of Agony in 2003 was on the afternoon (late afternoon Eastern Standard time) of October 5, 2004. We had to suffer through Chris Berman doing play-by-play for ESPN, and had to listen to all the talking sports-heads discussing how difficult it would be for the Sox to beat the Angels.

Now, I like Chris Berman, but he’s a lousy play-by-play guy. And I was at work when the game started anyway, so I caught a lot of it on the radio on the ride home with Castiglione and Trupiano.

Sox got out to a big lead, thanks to a 7 run 4th inning, Curt Schilling appeared to hurt his ankle a little and the Sox went up 1-0 in the best of three series by winning 9-3.

Game Two was a late game on October 6. Couldn’t stay up that late and still be remotely functional at work the next day so I went to bed. About an hour later (I guess) a barking dog woke me. I was awake, and curious, and snuck down to the living room to see how my Sox were doing.

It was close. I got sucked in. It reminded me of when I was a kid and had to go to bed, but I’d strain to stay awake trying to hear how the Sox were doing when my Dad was listening on the radio or watching on the TV. I was trying to stay awake, trying to keep the TV down low.

It was a pretty good battle, with the Sox holding a 4-3 leading going into the 9th. A one run leading going into the 9th inning will make any Sox fan nervous, even on opening day, no matter how good the bullpen is. But this Sox team had a good bullpen AND a ton of offense. They scored four in the 9th to take the second game 8-3. They were headed back to Fenway up 2-0 in the series, and I was headed to bed around 2am, knowing I’d be worthless in the office the next day.

The 3rd game of the Series was on Friday, October 8. I managed to watch a short bit of the first inning on the small TV in the exercise room at work. Unfortunately, all of us from work had a retirement dinner to go to that evening — watching would be impossible. Being a techno-geek, I set up my phone to get text messages of the score. Unfortunately, there was one guy who was TiVo-ing the game and didn’t want to know anything at all about it, so I had to be very poker-faced when my texts would come in.

All of the angst was for naught though, because by the time the dinner was over, the Sox had been way ahead, given up a grand slam to Vlad, and were tied going into extra innings. So it was into the car for the ride home, and on went Castiglione and Trupiano.

I didn’t get far from the restaurant before David Ortiz, “Big Papi” came up in the bottom of the 10th.

The first pitch went into the Monster seats and it was over. The Sox were headed back to the ALCS and I was headed home on Friday night with a couple of days to contemplate who would be our opponent!

To be continued….

Sigh.

This is probably the toughest time of year for a sports fan.

Baseball has just started spring training. Yes, I follow the Red Sox (and have for a very long time), but they’re not even playing split squad practice games against themselves yet, let alone Grapefruit League games. True, there’s always the Manny drama, but that’s gotten old too.

Football is done. Being a NY Giants fan, the Super Bowl was a bore. But it was still pig, and there won’t be pig until August at the earliest.

Forget the NBA. The days of Bird, Magic and Jordan are long gone, and what the NBA touts as basketball isn’t what I’d call basketbal, so it is boring. And I don’t like hoops that much anyway. College is going strong, and we’re poised on the brink of March madness, so hopefully that will hold my interest for a nanosecond or two.

Hockey? Well, the US Olympic Hockey team (read that American NHLers) was a bust. And fitting. How do you take guys two days away from the NHL and expect them to play like a team. Not going to happen. And the NHL (Go Bruins! Get out of last place!!!) is boring this year too.

So, we can wait. I did happen to catch some fascinating stuff on ESPN last night, while waiting for dinner at the Outback. The Viking Obstacle Course Challenge. Check it out. It is sponsored by Viking (the kitchen appliance people) and was pretty wild.

Until life renews with Opening Day, I’ll just have to get by…..