For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to write.
The blank computer screen stared me in the face. Normally, this would upset me greatly. But not on this night or early morning or whatever it was.
If the computer screen could see, it would have seen a smile on my face.
The Boston Red Sox had just put the finishing touch on a curse-busting victory that capped the greatest comeback in the history of baseball.
Down 3-0 in the ALCS to the powerful Yankees, the Sox fought back and won four in a row, including the 10-3 exclamation point Wednesday night.
Words were hard to come by. The 37 million story angles floated all around me. Derek Lowe's incredible performance on the mound (wasn't this guy mediocre all year?). Johnny Damon's resurrection (I know he looks like Jesus, but rising from the dead after his miserable start to the series seemed unlikely). David Ortiz's continued dominance (why did the Yankees pitch to this man?). The sheer fact that the Sox were able to orchestrate this comeback (the word hopeless was thrown around after Game 3).
But I kept coming back to one little thought -- thousands of Red Sox fans are as happy as they've ever been.
Me? I'm a diehard Cubs fan, but the family roots are firmly planted in Boston, so I've always been a Red Sox supporter.
My dad, on the other hand? This is all you need to know: I called him after the game to make sure he hadn't died of a heart attack.
Like so many Red Sox fans, he is a true diehard, as pessimistic as they come and full of doomsday prophecies. He spent the entire game imagining ways the Red Sox could find to blow it.
Every Red Sox fan did the same thing. But can you blame them?
Even the most rational, logical people in the world have to admit that the Red Sox sure do seem to be cursed. They haven't won the World Series since 1918. In those 86 years, they've found remarkable ways to lose.
There was Bucky Bleepin' Dent sneaking the ball over the Green Monster. There was Bill Buckner letting an easy grounder roll through his legs in the '86 World Series. And there was Aaron Boone one year ago, sending a Tim Wakefield knuckleball deep into the cruel, dark New York night.
How do you stare history like that in the face and not feel intimidated? How do you fall behind three games to the suddenly invincible Yankees and not crumble under the pressure? How do you even believe in yourself?
If you're David Ortiz, you just keep pounding. If you're Curt Schilling, you ignore the pain as tendons in your ankle hang by a thread. If you're Derek Lowe, you put all the bad moments from a rough year behind you. If you're Johnny Damon, you forget all the strikeouts and play like you've got nothing to lose.
And if you're a Red Sox fan, you believe. You cling to the slimmest of hopes. You convince yourself that if there was ever a time to kill the curse, this would be it because a comeback like this would smash it to pieces.
After Wednesday, we can say "mission accomplished." Ortiz and company pulled off the most incredible of feats, and the fans who never left, not even when the Yankees were three outs from a sweep, rejoiced like never before.
I can only imagine what Boston is like right now. Two solid days of celebration are in order, two days where pessimism won't creep in, where relishing the moment will be the thing to do.
Saturday will come, and Fenway Park will host a World Series game. The fans will get back to their old pessimistic selves. They'll still believe -- they'll always believe they can win -- but they'll never think they will.
The curse may yet rear its ugly head. The Sox got every break in the final four games of the ALCS, so a few things are bound to go the other way in the World Series. And plenty of questions remain. Can Schilling even walk? Does Pedro Martinez have the stamina to pitch on short rest? Will Ortiz stay scorching-hot and live up to his new "Senor October" nickname?
But with this team, the curse may not stand a chance. A team that was truly cursed would have found a way to blow Game 7. It would have seen Schilling's foot fall off. It would have folded in Game 5. It would have never stood up to Mariano Rivera in Game 4.
The Red Sox didn't do any of that. They ignored it all. They passed the tests with flying colors, and they made thousands of Red Sox fans absolutely ecstatic.
They also left one long-winded writer speechless for hours. Finally, I was able to hammer out this column, but the right words were still tough to find.
How do you describe the most improbable comeback you've ever seen?
If you're me, you fight through the writer's block and you turn to the phrase -- the uniquely New England phrase -- that perfectly captures the moment.
Wicked awesome. Yeah, I think that fits.
Leave a Comment