They did it
I have a hard time knowing where to begin or what to say.
Up three games to none, I allowed myself to think about it yesterday. What if? I felt the grip of the hex loosening. Sure, the Red Sox could have lost last night. And that could have given the Cards the sort of improbable momentum that propelled Boston to their four straight wins in the ALCS. But I realized there were only two possible outcomes: The Sox win the series, or the greatest collapse in sports history, immediately on the heels of the previous greatest collapse in sports history. The latter would be improbable, to say the least, and had it actually happened, it would have been a story to be told for generations.
So the thought crept into my head: what will I do if they win? I didn't know. Given that I'd be watching at home I wouldn't jump up and down and scream. I kind of worried about it. I haven't lived in New England for almost ten years. The Patriots have won two Super Bowls in recent years. Had those improbable victories taken something away from a Sox Series victory?
Then, as the game was about to begin, Fox ran a video montage from 100 years of Red Sox history, highlighting every painful defeat, from Dent to Buckner to Aaron Boone. And then there was David Ortiz, knocking one out of the park against the Yankees. Something had changed. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I inexplicably lost control of my tear ducts. So I began to suspect how I'd react if the unthinkable came to fruition.
Despite my better judgement, I began thinking about it more as soon as Johnny Damon hit that leadoff home run. The Cards would have to play catch-up. It truly was ours to lose. Sure, I put a dent in my end table from knocking on it each time Joe Buck said something like "Scott Rolen is still hitless in this series," but for the first time since the series with Anaheim, I didn't feel panic, despite it being a close game the whole way. That's a strange phenomeonon.
And despite the pre-game waterworks, as Edgar Renteria grounded the final out to Keith Foulke, I didn't cry. Had I been alone, I might have. But as it was I felt primarily shock, then relief, pride, satisfaction, and back to disbelief.
The world of sports, as I know it, has changed forever. The Boston Red Sox are World Series Champions. It might be time to stop watching sports altogether, and catch up on my reading. What could ever top this?
Up three games to none, I allowed myself to think about it yesterday. What if? I felt the grip of the hex loosening. Sure, the Red Sox could have lost last night. And that could have given the Cards the sort of improbable momentum that propelled Boston to their four straight wins in the ALCS. But I realized there were only two possible outcomes: The Sox win the series, or the greatest collapse in sports history, immediately on the heels of the previous greatest collapse in sports history. The latter would be improbable, to say the least, and had it actually happened, it would have been a story to be told for generations.
So the thought crept into my head: what will I do if they win? I didn't know. Given that I'd be watching at home I wouldn't jump up and down and scream. I kind of worried about it. I haven't lived in New England for almost ten years. The Patriots have won two Super Bowls in recent years. Had those improbable victories taken something away from a Sox Series victory?
Then, as the game was about to begin, Fox ran a video montage from 100 years of Red Sox history, highlighting every painful defeat, from Dent to Buckner to Aaron Boone. And then there was David Ortiz, knocking one out of the park against the Yankees. Something had changed. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I inexplicably lost control of my tear ducts. So I began to suspect how I'd react if the unthinkable came to fruition.
Despite my better judgement, I began thinking about it more as soon as Johnny Damon hit that leadoff home run. The Cards would have to play catch-up. It truly was ours to lose. Sure, I put a dent in my end table from knocking on it each time Joe Buck said something like "Scott Rolen is still hitless in this series," but for the first time since the series with Anaheim, I didn't feel panic, despite it being a close game the whole way. That's a strange phenomeonon.
And despite the pre-game waterworks, as Edgar Renteria grounded the final out to Keith Foulke, I didn't cry. Had I been alone, I might have. But as it was I felt primarily shock, then relief, pride, satisfaction, and back to disbelief.
The world of sports, as I know it, has changed forever. The Boston Red Sox are World Series Champions. It might be time to stop watching sports altogether, and catch up on my reading. What could ever top this?
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