"Can you believe it?"

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Exactly ten years ago, everything changed. Joe Castiglione asked us if we believed it, and at fourteen, I did. I believed, and with the arrogance of fourteen-year-olds everywhere, I thought I understood what it meant.

And I guess I did, on a shallow level. I knew the lore, had read about the near misses, and heard tales of the Curse of the Bambino - though the only real Red Sox tragedy I ever witnessed was the broken look on Tim Wakefield's face at the end of the 2003 ALCS.

So I, like the rest of New England, celebrated with reckless abandon. Granted, as a freshman in high school, my partying was considerably more measured than many other fans, but I was ecstatic nonetheless.

Of course, in the decade since that frenzied celebration, I have come to realize that I can never understand what that night meant to older generations. To my fellow fans who suffered through 1986,  1978, 1975, 1967, and 1946, I can only tip my cap to your perseverance and your faith.

Sure, the Red Sox had been in the playoff hunt twice before I was even ten years old - that alone made me more fortunate than my mother's generation. But despite three playoff exits in my young life, the dull certainty of defeat hadn't set into my psyche by 2004.

I was excited, but I could certainly, as Castiglione asked, "believe it."

I don't buy into the idea that certain fans are better than others. I hate when people look down their noses at fans who they deem "lesser" - and if you've spent any time with me, you'll know how I loathe the uniquely sexist and patronizing idea of the "Pink Hat" fan.

If you've decided you love the Red Sox, that's enough for me. Fenway Park's friendly confines can fit millions through the turnstiles every year, and the metaphorical tent of Red Sox Nation is big enough for millions more.

But I won't deny that there are those who suffer for their fandom more than others. To this end, I'd like to use this anniversary of euphoria to express my admiration for the generations of fans who were subjected to many more years of heartache than I ever endured. You are the backbone of this fandom, and in the spirit of that amazing night ten years ago, I'll leave you once more with the words of Joe Castiglione:

"...for the first time in 86 years, the Red Sox have won baseball's world championship! Can you believe it?"

A clean slate for the World Champs

Today is the official reporting date for all Red Sox position players, and the last of the stragglers are now in camp.

Honestly, I almost forgot today was the official date because the vast majority of Red Sox players have been in Fort Myers for days or even weeks - we're a long way from the days of Manny Ramirez's constant tardiness due to perennial family illness.

It's one of the many reasons I feel great about this team's chances for 2014. Of course, the talent matters, and luck plays a role every year. But it would be a mistake to discount the effects of twenty-five players who truly enjoy showing up to work every day, working toward the same goal.

The Red Sox labored for decades with rosters full of talented me-first athletes; the "25 Players, 25 Cabs" mentality haunted them through the nineties. In the last decade, the Red Sox have won three World Series titles, and though the 2004, 2007, and 2013 squads all had their unique flavors, they also had key moments of (often bizarre) team solidarity.

In 2004, we had the Idiots and team shots of Jack Daniels, and a region-wide exorcism of a decades-long curse. In 2007, the squad reveled in the strange antics of Jonathan Papelbon, extending Dustin Pedroia's Rookie of the Year campaign to the World Series in Colorado. And last year, we had the beards. Some were scruffy, some were glorious, but all were a sign of unity.

Obviously it's impossible to know anything based on the first day of spring training, but his year's team has that feeling of community that always seems to end in good things. 

How did the Red Sox become baseball villains?

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When the Red Sox clinched their World Series berth last Saturday, there were floods of delirious celebratory tweets, Tumblr posts, and Facebook updates on their respective timelines. Sure, there were the scattered mourning Tigers fans, and the bitter Yankees fans - which is certainly to be expected.

But what I didn't expect to see was a single disdainful tweet, from (of all places) a Chicago Cubs fan. It said something like, "How did we end up with an all-villains World Series? #RedSox #Cards"

Less than a decade ago, Red Sox fans were constantly lumped together with Cubs fans like that one: lovable losers everyone can root for because of the hopelessness of their respective plights.

Red Sox fans and Cubs fans were permanently dejected and cynical. The baseball world would collectively pat us on the back sympathetically, half-jokingly referencing the Curses of the Bambino and the Billy Goat.

Nine years and two World Series wins later, the Red Sox are no longer hard-luck also-rans, and we fans gleefully gave up the "lovable" part to shed the "loser" label for good. Our jubilee at breaking the curse in 2004, and then adding another title in 2007 for good measure, began to grate on fans of less fortunate teams years ago.

None of that is exactly news, but to be termed a "villain," the very term we've so long hurled at our hated Bronx-dwelling division rivals, is hard to swallow.

In a certain way, it's almost delicious to feel the jealousy of other teams' fans, but to call our team "villainous" when it's primarily made up of home-grown talent and journeyman free agents seems unfair. Gone are the days when the Red Sox front office entered a bidding war to sign whatever free agent would cost the most.

Instead, Ben Cherington and co. ignored the Josh Hamilton offseason circus (to the chagrin of some fans who have been mysteriously silent since May) and signed mid-range players like Shane Victorino, Mike Napoli, Koji Uehara, and Stephen Drew.

This team overcame preseason expectations to pull together one heck of a 2013 campaign. This is a team that put the entire city of Boston on its back after an unthinkable tragedy, and with a rallying cry of "Boston Strong," proceeded to own the American League. They wear their team spirit on their faces in the form of lumberjack beards - and how can you villainize a lumberjack?

In the end, I suppose it doesn't much matter whether casual baseball fans can get behind us; there will never be another 2004, and there shouldn't be. The 2004 playoff run was something unique, nerve-wracking, and beautiful.

The 2013 playoffs haven't been nearly as terrifying: the Red Sox haven't faced down elimination all year. But 2013 is shaping up to be just as special, albeit in a different way.

After all, I'd rather be a villain in the World Series than a saint playing golf.

Happy Thanksgiving, Red Sox Nation!

All too often this blog has become a place for rants and complaints: mostly because none of my friends or family really care about the Red Sox (at least, not like I do), so this is a somewhat healthy way to vent my frustrations. However, in spirit of today's holiday, I thought I would post a list of Red Sox-related things for which I am thankful:

• 2004 and 2007: Seven years ago, we were coming off the biggest heartbreak since 1986. We still claimed lovable loser status, and there were people who swore that the Cubs curse would break before ours. Then, seven years ago today, our own Theo Epstein made a trek to Curt Schilling's Arizona home for Thanksgiving, and a deal was eventually done. The rest, as they say, is history.
• An 89-win season: Fully two-thirds of MLB teams finished behind Boston this season, and this despite the 2010 Parade of Carnage that saw SIX Opening Day starters spend an extended period on the disabled list, not to mention the grab bag of injuries to bench players and pitchers beyond Opening Day starter Josh Beckett.
• The chance to cheer for prospects: The Red Sox have had a fantastic farm system, and despite Theo's ill-fated "bridge year" comment of yesteryear, we got to see some fantastic things this season. If I had proclaimed, this time last year, that we would soon be cheering on Daniel Nava, Darnell McDonald, Ryan Kalish, Felix Doubront, and Josh Reddick on a regular basis, you all would have had me committed. The kids, as they say, are all right, and they certainly proved themselves this season.
• My proximity to Boston: Sure, I'm three hours away at home, and two when I'm at school, but the fact is that I can drive there any time I wish (so long as there's not a blizzard or something). There are fans all over the country, and all over the world, who have never set foot in Fenway Park, have never been to the the East Coast of the US, and so are constant minorities in their baseball-rooting interest. I'm thankful that there are thousands of Fenway Faithful all around me, that Red Sox hats abound (more in NH than CT), and that people around here are generally so passionate.
• Dustin Pedroia: You had to know this was coming. However, it's not just my favorite player for whom I am thankful, but all of his home-grown teammates, especially those who are still under Red Sox control, pre-arbitration, and those who took wallet-friendly deals to stay with the Sox. Players like Pedroia, Kevin Youkilis, John Lester, Clay Buchholz, Daniel Bard, Jed Lowrie (remember him!?), and yes, even Jacoby Ellsbury.
• The wallet of John Henry, et al: Yes, yes, I know all of RSN is claiming that Henry's acquisition of the Liverpool Football Club is the reason that VMart is now a Tiger, but I'm going to go on record as skeptical of that theory. The fact is, Henry is fabulously wealthy, and he bankrolled the second-highest payroll in MLB last year. I know it's difficult to keep perspective on how lucky the Sox are financially when the Yankees are outspending King Midas 200 miles to the south, but please try to remember: we are very, VERY lucky to have an owner who is willing to spend when his GM thinks it's appropriate.
• Theo Epstein: Speaking of the GM, we happen to have one of the best. I know people's opinions are tainted right now because of the Victor Martinez debacle, but the fact is that Theo always knows what he's doing (except, apparently, with shortstops). Do you recall the offseason a few years back (I believe this was pre-Martinez, but perhaps not) when all of RSN was howling at Mr. Epstein to go out and get a new young backstop? Jarrod Saltalamacchia was near the top of the wish list, and Theo managed to acquire him for peanuts. Theo has a plan. Chill.
• You! Yes, dear reader, I am thankful for you. When I started this blog nearly two years ago, I never expected to get more than a few reads, if I got any at all. Really, this was going to function more like a journal for me to get out my Sox thoughts, since no one in my life particularly cared to discuss baseball 24/7. The audience I have now blows me away, and I'm extremely thankful to be able to write for such a passionate group of fans.

Did I forget anything? Do you disagree? Feel free to add your imput in the comments section, and have a very happy Thanksgiving! [And to my non-American readers, have a happy Thursday!]

I miss you, Pedro!

I'm taking Spanish this semester, in hopes of both fulfilling Trinity's requirement and obtaining some sort of mastery of the language. Tonight's assignment was to choose a famous person of Hispanic heritage and write about them en español. Our choices ranged from Shakira to Antonio Banderas, or we could choose our own.

Shockingly, I chose my own...

I don't think it's any surprise that I chose to write about Pedro Martinez. In this time of darkness (the 2010 Parade of Carnage), it's nice to reflect upon the good old days when the Red Sox were on top and Pedro was king.

Of course, these two things were simultaneously true for just a few months: the Sox won it all in October, 2004, and Pedro would sign with the Mets that same December, but DAMN did it feel good while it lasted.

Pedro was the best pitcher in baseball for a number of years leading up to 2004, including a 1999 season that MLBNetwork has dubbed the best single-season performance by a pitcher in the history of the game. Unfortunately for me, I was nine years old at the time, and so on the rare occasion that I had control of the television for baseball, I did not appreciate the historic nature of Pedro's utter dominance.

Pedro's performance at the 1999 All-Star Game was one for the ages.

The speculation that Pedro Martinez felt slighted by the Sox' acquisition of Curt Schilling has been brought up before, but there's no way that team was winning without both of them on the roster (neither of them, by the way, were fathered by the Yankees, despite the unoriginal and obnoxious chants that follow Pedro to the Bronx). It is interesting to note that statistically speaking, Pedro Martinez's most similar player is Curt Schilling, according to baseball-reference.com (that is a better argument for Schill's HoF eligibility than any obscure statistic, in my opinion).

But even beyond the dazzling numbers and dominating performances, Pedro was a character, delivering memorable one-liners like "One of these days Buckner's gonna catch that grounder," proving that he was as indoctrinated as the rest of us in RSN, and sick and tired of that damned replay.

My personal favorite Pedro quote has to be from 2001, when he seemingly grew tired of answering questions about a certain slugger of yesteryear: "I don't believe in damn curses," he said. "Wake up the damn Bambino and have him face me. Maybe I'll drill him in the ass." This would have been comical if it were possible... Just imagine the undersized Pedro hitting the Babe, then trying to defend himself from the Bambino's superior bulk when the fiery Ruth charged the mound.

Of course, the best images of Pedro are those that show his character, both on the mound and in the dugout:

This might be my favorite Pedro picture. Being at Opening Day (Night?) this year and seeing him embrace Johnny Pesky was amazing. I'll admit to tearing up.

Obviously, Pedro Martinez meant a lot to hundreds of thousands of people. He was one of the only great players on some teams full of scrubs for a few years in the late-90's; he was proof (before Dustin Pedroia) that the short guy can succeed; he was fun-loving and competitive. Pedro Martinez was always dynamic and dominating... I don't know about you, but this year I miss him more than ever.



P.S. Don't forget Pedro's "lucky charm:"

"My friend is Nelson. His name is Nelson. He's 36 years old. He's from the Dominican Republic and very funny character, and very animated. Everybody's happy with him. He's our lucky charm now. Now a days. The guys are falling in love with him."

Another Crushing Blow

As you all know, I missed my hubby's first two games back from the disabled list to watch some Baby Sox play in Portland. It seemed like a reasonable idea at the time; after all, he'd be back for the rest of the season, and it was a good chance for me to get over to Hadlock Field.

God, I miss this face.

As usual when I show a moment of weakness is my dedication to the big club, the baseball gods have their revenge by smiting one of my boys. In fact, the only major injury I've seen this season was that of Jacoby D-Ellsbury, and you already know my feelings about him.

But I digress. The plucky second baseman played a total of two games up in Boston before that left foot started hurting too much for him to bear - and that's quite a lot for a man who was taking ground balls on his knees just days after the initial break.

So it was back to the DL for Pedey, and what's worse is that his absence is likely to be longer for 15 days. Obviously, the in-your-face infielder wasn't pleased with the news: "I'm upset. I feel like I let everybody down... I can't really do much. I tried, so hopefully it heals up and I'll get back in there."

It's a huge blow to a team that was waiting on tenterhooks for its most spirited player to return: Pedroia was supposed to be the motivating factor for a hotstreak that would carry the Red Sox into the playoffs. Pedroia is not worried, at least out loud: "We'll be fine. Guys will step up. They have all year. I'm just one guy. Guys have gone down all year, and guys have been able to step up and help us win. We still have a great chance at getting to the playoffs and winning the whole thing."

I actually agree with all this bluster... If the Red Sox pull off a miracle and make it into the October party, I think they can win it all. However, they no longer "have all year." There are thirty-nine games to play, and they currently sit seven games out in the division and 5.5 back in the Wild Card. They either have to catch the seemingly tireless Rays, or the Yankees with the bottomless pockets, and with each passing day it seems less likely it can happen.

Of course, I hate counting ANYTHING out until the numbers say I absolutely must, because I learned my lesson in 2004: never say never, especially when the team in question is as talented and determined as this one.

As Kevin Garnett would say: ANYTHING'S POSSIBLE!!!!!!!!!

I'll say this much for certain: if these Sox make it to the promised land of the playoffs, it might be the best ride they've had, and a joy to watch for sure.


[Quotes are from this article at redsox.com, and standings are as of this evening.]

"Can You Believe It?"

Five years ago today the Red Sox shocked the world.

Well, sort of. Most of the shock factor had indeed been part of the miraculous comeback in the ALCS, completed a week earlier. In fact, after all of the drama of the ALCS, the World Series seemed almost a forgone conclusion. However, Red Sox Nation (in its pre-corporate-cash-cow phase) had been trained to expect meltdowns in big situations, and even contemporary fans can recite the incidents by heart:

• Seven games losses in the World Series in 1946 (Cardinals), 1967 (Cardinals), 1975 (Reds), and 1986 (Mets)
• Seasons that came down to one-game playoffs for the pennant, both of which the Sox lost, in 1948 (Cleveland), and 1978 (Yankees)

Names like Bucky Dent, Aaron Boone, and Bill Buckner will forever be part of the New England vernacular (at least for the remainder of my lifetime), no matter how many titles the Sox win... And that's not necessarily a bad thing.

In honor of the five-year anniversary, I decked myself out in Red Sox gear: Wakefield shirt (no one blames you for 2003, Wake!), Sox hat, sweatshirt, necklaces, and sneakers. All day, people asked what I was doing: "The Red Sox are out," they scoffed. I explained myself, but no one understood. No one ever WILL understand, save for other Red Sox fans and perhaps Cubs fans, when/if they finally win it all. Going without a title for so long, all while hearing the aforementioned years recited at gatherings and parties like a dutiful remembrance of not-so-fondly recalled relatives, makes 2004 infinitely more special than other titles.

Obviously, due to my age, I did not experience most of the heartbreak listed above. Hell, I wasn't even old enough to remember the cancellation of the World Series in 1994. I do, however, remember 2003, and the look on Tim Wakefield's face as he walked off the mound said everything.

In 2004, fans all over New England barely dared dream for what we thought was impossible. Even after the ALCS, we were warned to be cautious with our hopes, as they could be dashed in an instant. "It's not over til it's over," we said, ignoring the fact that Yankees great Yogi Berra initially coined that particular phrase.

And then? It was over. Four games, just like that. Red Sox radio broadcaster Joe Castiglione said it best:


Eat your heart out, New York. None of your 26 past World Series victories can EVER measure up to 2004.

Five Years Ago Tonight...

On October 4, 2004, the Boston Red Sox beat the LA Angels of Anaheim, 8-3, and took a 2-0 series lead in the ALDS. Pedro Martinez went seven innings strong, giving up three earned runs, while his counter part, old friend Bartolo Colon, went just six, also giving up three runs. The difference was in the bullpens: Boston's kept the Angels to just one hit, while the LA delegation surrendered five hits and five runs.
The only men to appear in that game that are on Boston's roster today are Jason Varitek, David Ortiz, and Kevin Youkilis (defensive replacement at third base), and as different as the roster looks these days, the attitudes of Sox fans have been even more changed.

In 2004, we were just one year removed from Aaron Boone. We were at eighty-six years without a title, and (as far as the world was concerned), "wait 'til next year" was the regional motto. Red Sox fans of all ages looked at the 2-0 series lead and decided that the home town team would doubtless find some way to blow it, if not against that Angels then against the Yankees. As painful as it is to revisit that mindset, the 2004 Red Sox might have been lovable and talented "Idiots," but the skeptics always won out when it came to playoff predictions: after all, the pessimists had history on their side.

Of course, the moral of Sox fans would fall to its lowest point just ten days later, when New York took a 3-0 series lead in the ALCS. No one, we told ourselves, had ever come back from such a deficit in the history of professional baseball. You know the rest, but most fans (let's be honest, ourselves included) were convinced that they would somehow blow it until the very last out was made. As Yogi Berra so famously said: "It ain't over 'til it's over."

And then? It was over. The years of suffering, the "1918" chants, and the lovable losers moniker. The people of New England, raised in the Puritan tradition of self-inflicted torture, had something to celebrate, and celebrate we did. I was fourteen at the time, so I didn't celebrate in quite the same way most people did, and not just because I was seven years away from the legal drinking age. My relative youth meant that the victory just didn't have the same significance for me as it did for those who had lived through decades of disappointment: I'm not belittling the joy of young Sox fans, but it's a fact that we lacked a certain perspective.
Now, of course, we start every season with the expectation of making it to the playoffs, but we need to remember that wasn't always the case, and that even within my short lifetime the Sox were more likely to finish their season in September than October (or November). Let's not take the Angels for granted: it's miraculous what the death of a teammate or a loved one can do for motivation. The major networks are already advertising for a Red Sox/Yankees ALCS, and honestly, it's what most fans of both teams expect. There would be a certain poetic justice in celebrating the five year anniversary of Boston's fist World Title in living memory by going through the same teams (Anaheim, New York, and St. Louis) to get another one, but the playoffs are often more luck than skill.

So let's find out if Lady Luck is a Red Sox fan.

I Remember When Hell Froze Over

Does anyone else out there remember what happened last time the Yankees clinched the AL East while the Sox "settled" for the Wild Card? I do, and you can break out your favorite cliche, because October 2004 was the month that pigs flew, and Hell froze over, and the rest is history.

For my final cliche of this entry, I would like to note that a picture is worth a thousand words:To me, and thousands of Red Sox fans world wide, this picture is worth much more than a thousand words: it's worth our sanity. This photo represents the end of the "1918!" chants, the end of the "lovable loser" mentality, and the beginning of a wonderful new era.

Sure, Varitek is a shell of the man he used to be, and Foulke (obviously) is no longer with the team, but I use this picture to remind the panicking segment of Red Sox Nation that nothing is impossible. In 2004, the Yankees went 101- 61 in the regular season, and the Sox finished at a respectable 98-64. We were the underdogs going into the ALCS, and, especially after Game 3, people were lining up on the Tobin Bridge. The Yankees were Pedro's Daddy, Schilling had a bum ankle, and hope seemed lost. You all know what happened next, and it led to the party to end all parties throughout New England.

Why the pseudo-history lesson? Sure, it sucked to watch the Yankees celebrate yesterday (I assume? I turned off the television when Golden Boy made the final out.), but the alarmists within Red Sox Nation are freaking everyone out, and there's just no need for that yet.

The Sox magic number is two. They have seven left to play (three against the Jays, and four against the Indians). The bats will get hot at the right time, the starting pitchers are hitting their stride, and the bullpen will have time to rest before the playoffs start.

And, just to leave you with a smile on your face, here's another priceless picture from that magical month in 2004: