Just give me that old time religion!

This is an email I sent to my buddy, Ross, in St. Paul, MN in the spring of 2004 before the Sox made it to the promised land.
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Friday, May 7, 2004 - Sox vs Royals - Eileen's brother Matt (big time Sox fan living in Brooklyn, NY) is up for the weekend for nephew Kevin's first communion on Saturday. I snagged 4 tickets and we're sitting just to the left of the screen behind home plate - halfway under the overhang. It's freaking balmy - 70's. It's May 7 and the place is absolutely packed - the 80 somethingth sellout in a row. Also along is Erica (heart partially broken from last September, but still believing) and Matt's wife Maureen (Moe) - she's from a family of mostly Yankee fans though one of her brothers hates them - "I don't care who wins, so long as it's not the Yankees!"

Moe doesn't understand Matt's passion for baseball - he's a rotisserie guy, too - watches Baseball Tonight on ESPN religiously - but she loves him and so puts up with it. Sox go down early 2-0, but catch up and tie it up at 2-2. Wakefield, the knuckleballer (actually the premiere knuckleballer of the past 5-10 years) is on the hill. It's a lovely night and we're chatting away - I bemoan the fact that the scoreboard puts up the scorebook notation after every play. Ground out to third and "5-3" flashes on the Jumbotron. "If you're gonna keep score, then you already know how to score the game. And if you don't know, then you're supposed to be taught by someone who does - it's like passing down tribal lore.", says I.

Wake and the Sox falter in the 5th and the Royals score 4 times (they "put up a crooked number" as my radio guys Joe & Jerry like to say). Some shoddy fielding aids the Royals cause - a throwing error by 3rd baseman Bill Mueller (throwing the ball into right trying to start a DP) being the big blow.

After the 7th, a bunch of fans started toward the exits. I was going for a "squirt" and heard the taunting of the "true" fans toward the fair-weather fans who were leaving. "Hey, I'm just going for a piss!", wanted to say.

Bottom of the eight, still down by 4, the fans started getting into it. Manny singles, Kapler (in for the ailing Trot Nixon) hits a pop-up that ex-Sox farmhand Matt Stairs can't handle - the wind was swirling and though the ball started toward left, it ended up closer to center. Centerfielder Beltran didn't even attempt to make a play. 1st and 2nd - the crowd cheering and clapping - we're all on our feet now - and Doug Mirabelli (he always catches Wakefield) singles sharply down the left-field line. Stairs misses the cutoff and Kapler scores all the way from first - 6-4 Royals.

Southpaw Embree comes on the pitch the ninth for the Sox - Wakefield, though he gave up 6 runs, still manages to pitch eight innings - he's that kind of pitcher - one of my favorites - always putting team before personal stats. He also has the longest tenure with the Sox (I think) - over 10 years. Embree mows 'en down.

Bottom of the ninth - have I mentioned that we haven't sat down since the 8th inning started? Did I mention that we've been screaming and clapping the whole time? "Let's go, Red Sox; clap-clap, clap-clap-clap" Top of the order - Damon works the count to 3-2 and draws a walk. Mark Bellhorn, he of .220 batting average, but having an OBP over .400 as he leads the league in walks, launches (and I mean launches) a blast deep into the right field seats. Game tied 6-6. The joint goes crazy - we're high-fiving, and screaming, and people are dancing. The game, for all intents and purposes, is over. At that point I knew how Yankee fans felt after they tied up Game 7 in September. It was now just a matter of time before the Sox got that final run to win the game.

Unlike the Yankees, who tortured Sox fans though 3 innings of overtime, the Sox were merciful and ended it right away. Manny singled, and Varitek (the true MVP of this team) pinch-hitting for Mirabelli, ropes a shot down the right field line. Juan Gonzales, never know as a slick fielding outfielder, digs the ball out of the corner, but Manny, chugging all the way from first, beats the throw, and the sound-system starts belting out, "Dirty Water" signaling the Sox victory.

Moe turns to me and says, "Wow - it's as if we willed them to win!" She gots the religion now, baby. What a beautiful night - what a beautiful game. We hung around for a long while, just savoring the moment. On our way out, one of the Fenway workers says, "Hey I need some high fives." and gets a bunch of takers. I high fived a bunch of kids in a yellow school bus. "Most definitely" (a baseball movie reference - know where from?) one if the finest times I've had in Fenway.

An important sidelight - Matt never sees the Sox win. Everytime he goes to a game, they lose, usually badly. We noted this as we went down 6-2. It's the "Curse of Matt." Once, when the girls were little, we went to a night game. Sox were down - it was late - girls were cranky, so we left early (maybe the only time I've ever done so). As soon as Matt leaves the park, the Sox start to rally, and eventually win the game. It's as if they were waiting for Matt to leave. So the "Matt Curse" is broken. Can the Bambino's be far behind?

2004 ALCS - "beers of destiny" or "no child should be allowed to watch the Sox in the playoffs all alone"

This is an email I sent to my buddy, Ross, in St. Paul, MN on Oct 20, 2004 on the morning after the Sox tied up the ALCS 3-3
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Wow! Who'd a thunk this could happen? I, along with many many others here, had written off the BoSox after that game 3 debacle. I wasn't down on them, mind you; they lost their best pitcher, Schilling, at the same time that the Yankees found two aces in Mussina and Lieber. It was a karmic thing - just not their time again - wait 'til next year. I still loved them, and the gritty way they play the game - no showboat, "me" guys on this T-E-A-M team.

But these last three games have defied explanation.

OK, it's hard to sweep, especially when you have your #4 guy starting, but the Sox were using their #5 guy - a guy, Lowe, who had had a zero September - losing all his starts and getting racked in the process. Lowe came up huge in game 4, and the Sox are still behind by a run entering the bottom of the ninth. And they find a way to tie the game, and then win it with Ortiz's blast.

Then game 5 - the "afternoon" game. Pedro pitches well, but he wasn't dominating - threw too many balls, too many 3 ball counts, but was really only hurt by the two out Jeter (Mr. Clutch) double that scored three. Sox again behind in the 8th, and again manage to tie it up on the Ortiz opposite field tater and a sac fly. They win 5 agonizing innings later when Ortiz fists a dink single over the infield.

So the Yankees lose two post-season extra inning games in a row (a first), and Rivera blows two post-season saves in a row (a first, though he can hardly be blamed for the second since Gorden had built the fire and doused it with gasoline before Rivera "gave up" Varitek's sacrifice fly to spark the flames).

BTW - the victories in games 4 and 5 can be attributed to my beer drinking. For game 4, I had been listening on and off. I flipped to the Sox late and see they're down 4-3 in the 8th. So I popped open a beer (Sam Adams of course) and went upstairs to be with Erica for the bottom of the 9th - no child should be allowed to watch the Sox in the playoffs all alone. 90 minutes later, we're still together watching as Ortiz (for the millionth time, it seems - you let this guy go for nothing?) sends the Fenway faithful home happy, 100%. I forgot to mention that the first beer merely provided the impetus for us to tie the game. I went down and grabbed another in the beginning of the 12th, and lo and behold, again it was the catalyst for another score and the win. Game 5, we all watched together, and after we tied it in the 8th, I got a beer, expecting a quick victory to follow, but I also got one for Eileen - bad move - her beer negated my beer, and so the extra innings rolled by until - you guessed it - I got another beer for the 14th (Erica said that Eileen couldn't have one as she, a bright girl, was way ahead on this one) and again we won. Last night no beers were needed as we were ahead the entire game. I've still got plenty in the refrigerator for tonight, though.

How huge was Schilling? Jack Morris-esque (you're absolutely right about the '91 series - E-P-I-C - Morris's game 7 10 inning shutout has to go down as one of the best pitching performances in history - I remember talking to Globe scribe Dan Shaughnessy at a kids soccer game on the Saturday after. He had been in the Metrodome for the game and said the whole experience was overwhelming - and this from Mr. Jaded Columnist - and BTW, said jaded columnist has been on the Sox bandwagon for months now - even he believes!)

I figured we'd go back to the Bronx and lose - Schilling would be game and go 5, giving up 3 runs. Lieber would hold us in check, the Yanks would add a couple off our depleted relief staff, and we could say, "Well, at least we made it a series." But Schilling was untouchable, UNTOUCHABLE - and the Sox hitters were pesky - making Lieber pitch out of jams in the early innings until the bottom of the order finally broke though in the 4th with 4 hits in a row with 2 outs capped by the Bellhorn slice job in to the left field seats. (Funny radio comment from a couple of weeks ago - fans in Boston are so rabid that I even see guys walking around wearing Bellhorn jerseys) Also of import was the way the umpiring crew made two crucial overrules for the Sox (can you say "tuck rule?"). That never happens against the Yankees - I remember vividly (too vividly) in '99 when we were jobbed by the umps on a couple of phantom tags that resulted in out calls against the Sox. But the umps get it right both times, and we have a game 7.

Finally, though I was a fan of the potential trade(s) that would have brought A-Rod and Magglio Ordonez to the Sox for Manny and Nomar, I am no longer. A-Rod is a punk - he was a punk in July when he railed expletives at Varitek after getting plunked by Arroyo, and he was punk last night when he tried to karate chop the ball out of Arroyo's glove. Bush league.

So I am poised for the Sox to fall short once again. No way they can win. Not a game 7, not in the Bronx. Not with Lowe on the hill (he pitched and lost the Game 2 that I went to in my only visit to Yankee stadium in last year's ALCS). Not against the vaunted big bad Yankees.

Before the playoffs started, I think I wrote that my big fear is that we get to the World Series, win the first three, then lose 4 straight. (the bright side would be that at least we'd stop talking about '86 :-) ). Now the tables are turned. Who knows....?