Champions Again!

Our 2004 World Series apparel is not yet even tattered or faded, but their replacements are flooding department stores all over New England. Your Boston Red Sox are once again kings of the baseball world. Asking a sports fan to compare championships is like asking a parent to compare children. It can't be done. They are each special in their own way but one thing is certain.

You cherish them all.

As we bask in glory of another championship, now might be the time to describe how radically things have changed for Sox fans in the past four years. The euphoria of a second title can be enjoyed even more by remembering what life was like following this team P. C. (Pre-Championship).

To bring that point home, I have resurrected an email I sent to Kevin in New York and Corey in College four short years ago. I sent it in the despondency of Grady's Meltdown in Game Seven 2003. Reading it now, in the afterglow of a second World Series championship, is almost comical Like some bizarre satire you would read in The Onion or the National Lampoon. As you read it through, try and remember what life was like back then. How we felt. How we ached. How we always feared we would never get to embrace the joy of winning it all. Herewith, a father's lament. An artifact of our now happily forgotten tortured past.

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October 16, 2003

Good morning, boys.

I was hoping this day would never come, but unfortunately there is no way I could protect you from it. We have talked about the past; you have watched old tapes; you have seen the history on ESPN Classic. But this is different. You have now lived through it.

Last night was your initiation, your induction, your baptism. You are now a fully vested, card carrying, broken hearted member of Red Sox Nation. You must now lug the baggage that has been piled on for 85, no, now...86, years. The chain remains unbroken. To Enos Slaughter, Pesky "holding the ball," Denny Galehouse, Longborg on two days rest, Ed Armbrister, Larry Barnett, Bucky "Bleeping" Dent, Calvin Schiraldi, Bob Stanley and Bill Buckner we can now add...Grady Little.

I can not say if it is the curse or not, but it certainly is fate. Maybe it makes us stronger people, better able to handle the hard life of a New Englander. That is faint consolation, especially with the recent wounds still so fresh.

I would urge you to get out now, to spare you from further heartache, but I know it is too late. You now have shed blood. You can never get out. You are forever committed and scarred.

I apologize for starting you on this road. I probably should have covered your little heads with Yankee caps when we brought you home from the hospital. That was your only chance.

Hopefully this will all end someday. Maybe not in my lifetime, but hopefully in yours. Until then, enjoy the good times, for there will be many. But understand, as you now have fully experienced, that those good times will ultimately end. Usually tragically, twisted, unexplained...but never unexpectedly.

We move on. This too shall pass. Spring will come again. Pitchers and catchers will report. Split squad games will be played. The season will begin anew. The playoff chase will resume. The cycle will continue. But I will leave you with the story of Sisyphus who is fated for all eternity to push the boulder to the top of the hill only to have it roll back and crush him on the way back to the bottom. We almost pushed the boulder over the brink this time, but alas we have been run over...again.

We must trudge down to the bottom of the hill once again. The boulder awaits. Let us pick ourselves up and in few months, begin another push.

Love,
Dad
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I share that letter with you not to bring you down, but instead to add perspective. The win in 2004 broke the back of the pain in that letter. The 86 years wasn't a curse, but it was something. Something awful that all Sox fans lived through.

My overwhelming feeling after Foulke softly tossed "the ball" to Mientkiewicz that night in St. Louis was relief. Happiness yes, but mostly relief. I spent that entire post season hoping we didn't lose. Knowing we had a chance. Especially after the comeback against the Yankees, my only thought was that I couldn't bear to go through another hearbreaking loss.

Which brings us to last night. That is the biggest difference between 2004 and 2007. In 2004 we had melodrama, Greek Theater, hopes and prayers from beyond the grave, decades of angst all rolled into one. In 2007, we simply have the best baseball team on the planet, playing their best at the right time.

No ghosts to exorcise. Just an exciting display of hardball from a finely balanced blend of youth and experience jelling to win 11 games, seven in a row, to take home a richly deserved trophy.

In 2004, it was about the past. In 2007, it's about the present and future. No baggage, no tears, no emotional release. Just enjoyment and pride, a fist pump for a solid team that led basically from start to finish. For a team that finally outlasted the Yankees in the regular season (and yes I think that means something.) A team that dug out of a 1-3 hole against a talented Indians club. A team, in this way like the 2004 bunch, that faced iminent playoff death, survived and then would not be denied. The Rockies, this year replacing the Cardinals in the role of hapless foil, falling like paper mache before the rolling Sox juggernaut.

So enjoy New Englanders. Be proud of this team. They gave us a great ride all summer (although we always found an never ending font of things to complain about). They did it again. We are champs once more.

Rejoice.