A Cry for Help

When is game 8? This series couldn't be over, could it? Where was the collapse? Where were the ghosts?

There is no superlative you'll hear today (and tomorrow, and the next day…) that is over-exaggerated. Last night's game seven was without a doubt the biggest win in the history of the Red Sox franchise. There's no real way to explain the impossibility of the meltdown suffered by the sport's most successful team. I can't even wrap my mind around the magnitude of this win. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

I thought there might be something weird in the air when, in game 6, those calls that always screw us actually went our way. Then Johnny got gunned down at the plate and all that was out the window. But then, unbelievably, Señor Octobre David Ortiz opened that window back up, put the team on his back and used Aura and Mystique as a step ladder to take all the air out of Yankee Stadium. Seeing that Ortiz bomb, in true Red Sox fan fashion, I was almost positive that the one run we lost at the plate was going to be a huge factor in the game. Then Johnny took my doubts, bunched them up and on the first pitch he saw in the second inning put them into the right field bleachers at the Stadium.

Em was jumping up and down, calling the biggest defeatist fan I know (her dad), making dinner plans to celebrate the win. I was dying! It was only the second inning?! But I forgot that 86 years of history all of a sudden means nothing.

I waited until Mike Timlin got the 23rd out before I cracked the last beer in the fridge (this kind, if you're wondering). Why til then? You may remember being five outs away last year…

In the car going to Em's, I turned the radio down and thought out loud what the call might sound like if the Sox won. Screaming with my best Castiglione impression, tears came to my eyes. "The Red Sox have just completed the most historic, improbable comeback in the history of sport" I yelled. That was all I would let myself imagine. I told Em that I'd be dying unless we went into the ninth inning with a nine run lead. Well, it was close.

I didn't post this earlier, for fear of a stupid superstition, but when we were down 0-3 I was not upset. It was zen-like. I just didn't care. I don't think I was confident that they would win, but I was just at peace with my Sox. Even down 0-3. Maybe, as a caller to WEEI said, it was a case of numbness ("Thank you Grady Little. You screwed me up so bad I am just numb to this now.") I'll call it quiet confidence now. Ever time I wrote Keep the Faith, or Believe, I meant it. And there's more games yet? The World Series?!

Just unbelievable.

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 21st, 2004 at 2:36 pm and is filed under Red Sox. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.