The Second Coming

Sleep was sparse in October 2004. Nights were spent watching the Boston Red Sox work their way through the American League playoffs. I wasn't going to let a little thing like sleep keep me from witnessing history.

I was at Game 3 of the ALCS vs. the Yankees sitting in makeshift bleachers in right field. The temperature was very low and the lack of effort the Red Sox were producing erased any chance of cheering to warm up. I could see the wind swirling and even dropped hot cocoa when my hands were too frozen to grasp the cup. The Red Sox lost to the Yankees in or about 22-7, one of the greatest Red Sox collapses. The Sox were down 0-3, and another season was to be over..

But we all know, that didn't happen. The Red Sox made heart-pounding comeback after heart-pounding comeback. Games lasted over five hours and extended into the wee hours of the morning. Never before had I dreamed so much of Tim McCarver. Every pitch was entracing. The sheer drama made watching almost unbearable. But I did. And over the next week, each moment was more exciting that the last. When the Red Sox did defeat the Evil Empire and put the Curse of the Bambino to the test, I was elated.

The World Series wasn't as stress-induced as the ALCS, but yet couldn't help imagine how they would find a way to lose. In the last three outs before their victory, I was on the phone with my Mom, a lifelong fan. She refused to feel any glimmer of victory until that third out was made. When it was, Mom was overcome with emotion and so was I.

Fast forward three years.

I am reading InStyle's latest trends in boots when the Red Sox win the ALCS. "The Red Sox win the pennant!!", Joe Buck yells. Jason Varitek leaps into Jonathan Paplebon's arms and I give an extended glance before returning to the article. The game had been on in the background for most of the night, but my concentration is paring down my unread magazine pile.

I don't care about this Red Sox victory. As I watch the celebration unfold, I have no emotion. No twinge of celebration. No jumping. No screaming. No manic phone calls. I simply return to my magazine.

My disdain is at the new management. I hate how they have whored out the Red Sox legacy. I hate how they ruthlessly discarded many of my friends who devoted years to the organization. While I have nothing against the players taking the field (save for JD Drew), the spark that made the Red Sox special to me is no longer there. It's been five years since I left and too much has changed and not for the better there. I am eternally grateful for the years I had and the family I made. It saddens me to see that gone now.

If the Red Sox win the World Series, I'll give a small smile. But this series is nothing I'll lose any sleep over.

Quote of the Day:
"I couldn't remember when I had been so disappointed. Except perhaps the time I found out that M&Ms really do melt in your hand." -Peter Oakley