The Red Sox Are World Champions

I didn't get to post yesterday as I could not get on to blogger :::aargh::: but I KNEW the Red Sox would win the World Series last night. I couldn't even get very excited about the prospect after Game 2 because it was clear the Red Sox were confident and the Cardinals were reeling.

I gotta say, winning the World Series was somewhat anticlimactic after the Sturm und drang of the epic series win over the Yankees. Playing the Cardinals allowed me to breathe. No visions of Aaron Fucking Boone dancing in my head. I'm too young to remember 1946, and in 1967 I wasn't a Red Sox fan. My mom was rooting for the Cardinals. All I remember about that series was Bob Gibson, probably the most dominating performance in a World Series by a pitcher, ever. 1975 was just a great series, but the Red Sox lost to a great Reds team.

I do remember 1986, very well. I had red candles burning on the top of my TV when Dave Henderson hit that home run against the Angels in the ALCS. And, I'm embarrassed to admit, I had already opened the champagne when that ball went through Bill Buckner's legs against the Mutts. That was a real heartbreaker. I never blamed Buckner. He never should have been on the field that late in the game. Much like this year's Doug M (runs to google to get spelling of name right) Mientkiewicz, Dave Stapleton had been Buckner's late game defensive substitution all year. Inexplicably, John McNamara left Buckner and his immobile ankles on the field and we all know the result.

Finally, last year's game seven defeat by the Yankees in the playoffs was just devastating. I watched the game from Madison Square Garden where I was attending the New York Rangers home opener. My brother's friend got us into the Green Room where I was transfixed by the game. By the 7th inning it was down the the diehards -- me, my family, and many New Yorkers including Mike Richter, Brian Leetch & Rod Gilbert. I was the lone Red Sox fan in the room. Much fun was poked at my expense. As you will recall the Red Sox led throughout the game until Grady Little (Forrest Gump) was perhaps the only person on the planet not to realize that Pedro Martinez was gassed. (My other brother called me from St. Louis screaming, "Pedro's gassed! Pedro's gassed! What is Grady Little doing?")

When Boone hit that home run off Wakefield I just began moaning. Wake had been heroic in the series. He had won games 1 and 4 and the Sox wouldn't even have been in that position if it weren't for him. And Aaron Bleeping Boone of all people. I went home, put my "Cowboy Up" shirt in a drawer and never took it out again.

And like all optimistic Red Sox fans, in March I said "This is the Year" and went out & bought a brand new Red Sox cap & shirt so I could say "I bought these the year the Red Sox won the World Series." Mission accomplished.

Great moments from last night's win:

Johnny Damon's lead-off home run. WWWJDD? What Would Johnny Damon Do? Drive a stake in the heart of the Cardinals and their fans at the earliest possible opportunity.

Derek Lowe tagging out Scott Rolen along the first base line in the bottom of the first. Did anyone else visualize A-Fraud's big white Mickey Mouse glove hacking the spindly arm of Bronson Arroyo at that moment?

The dirty boy Trot Nixon's clutch double in the 3rd, scoring Varitek & Ortiz.

Albert Pujols off-balance throw to the plate.

Pedro hugging Derek Lowe in the dugout after the 7th inning.

The final out -- Foulke almost juggling the ball he was so nervous.

Curtis Leskanic making snow angels on the infield grass.

Jason Varitek kneeling to kiss the infield.

Theo Epstein shaking the champagne bottle as he watched his bosses interviewed by the Fox nitwit in her ill-fitting suit.

The local sports guys interviewing everyone on the Busch Stadium infield for hours. They even interviewed Theo's parents.

Ah, it was a magic night.

Gump 2.0

OK, now I'm ready to deal with Friday night's nightmareish replay of Grady Little's managerial swan song last October.

Sox fans are calling new manager Terry Francona "Gump 2.0" because of his eerie resemblance to Grady (who had an eerie resemblance, verbally at least, to Forrest Gump.)

Friday night Francona embraced the role, choosing to send Pedro Martinez back onto the mound in the 8th inning, 101 pitches under his belt, a fine bullpen sitting on its keesters out past right field, & Hideki Matsui at the plate. Predictably, Matsui hits a home run. So it's time for Pedro to go, right? We're tied, he's tired, time for a pitching change. Oh, no. Bernie Williams doubles, Ruben Sierra brings him in to score with a single, & suddenly the Red Sox are not winning, they're losing.

And then I read this hideous fact in the New York Post this morning.

Friday's Fenway Freakout was the 1,918th regular-season game played between the teams. That number, 1918, keeps rearing its ugly head here, which means the Yankees can rejoice for the next 1,918 games between the two rivals.

That's the kind of thing that can make you believe in curses.

We won 12-5 last night, Schilling is on the mound tonight, this IS the year, but nights like Friday do give me the chills.