How it Felt (A Long Read to end A Long Life of Letdown)

"It's just Baseball" -Someone Else from Somewhere Else

I have written about the Red Sox quite often. They used to be easy to write about. Few things are easier to write about then an inferiority complex. You would think after the Red Sox historic World Series Championship, that the words of joy would flow like wine. However nothing could be further from the truth.
Two causes for the delay in my response.
1) For a week, I was absolutely drained. For three weeks I watched every pitch like it was the birth of a child, I was debating every decision like pundits on Crossfire...with myself. This whole postseason, but especially the ALCS, was a ride that while in hindsight may be looked at as fun, is something I hope to never go through in exactly the same way again. My heart can't take it, not just the baseball but the amounts of beer and cigarettes consumed in late innings of games, could have killed me.
2) For something as anticipated as this, there wasn't just one way to feel. Wednesday night was a night I had run in my head thousands of times in my life and when it happened, I was in such disbelief, it took me a while to enjoy it. Let me explain.

Like most of New England, I felt as though the series was going to end Wednesday night. Unlike the previous series, the World Series was relatively painless. Boston never trailed, St. Louis was scouted so brilliantly, it felt like a mid-season series with Kansas City more so than the most vivid sign of the Apocalypse. Now of course they were the Red Sox and the only thing that could take the joy of coming back from three games down to beat the Yankees in the ALCS would be to give up the same lead in the World Series and still have to be associated with the number 1918. Just a thought.
I had promised myself long ago that if the Red Sox were ever playing to win a World Series, that I would be in Boston. There was no other place to be. The celebration in Londonderry or Manchester or anywhere in New Hampshire would feel like a cheap rip-off compared to the release of an entire city, my favorite city in this country (I've never been to Vegas). When my buddy Pete called saying he was taking a shuttle from New York to be in town for that night, I had no choice, I had to be in Boston.
Pete, my freshman year roommate from SU McKenna, and myself gathered among some other friends at McKenna's house in South Boston to take in what we expected to be history. The Red Sox were up 3-0 in the bottom of the ninth with an overworked Keith Foulke on the mound and the heavy hitters of the St. Louis order due up. The Cardinals made enough noise to realize that if St. Louis came back and won this game in the ninth that they would have come back from 3 down to win 4-3. Certainly would not be a harbinger to good...COMEBACKER TO FOULKE!!! He holds the ball for what seems like three months then underhands it to Mientkiewicz (not Jewish believe it or not) RED SOX WIN THE WORLD SERIES!!!
I jumped out of my chair hugged people, chugged champagne, went through the motions but it didn't seem real at all. It'd be cliche to say it was like a dream. If I had sex with Jennie Finch on the hood of my car that would seem like a dream. This seemed like a contrived sports movie about the Red Sox and what it'd be like if they won it all, not the real thing. At least until I stepped outside.
Maybe it's a shame it takes a World Series Championship to do this, maybe it isn't but the streets of Boston Wednesday night were like the streets of New Orleans at Mardi Gras. The scene at Shenanigan's in South Boston was indicative of how a celebration should be. Everyone in a good mood, liquor being consumed profusely, unattractive women loosely throwing themselves at guys. Pete bought twelve shots for random patrons at Shenanigans, of which I consumed three. I almost made out with a 45 year old woman, I had my shot let it go and while any other night I would be grateful that I used better judgment, to be honest I regret it, would have capped the night beautifully.
The rest of the night was drunken antics, taking a cab to another bar to catch last call and spend the night with as many happy people in the city of Boston as possible. Then taking a cab to Fenway Park, once the Falleujah-like rioting had stopped, to hug the Green Monster, while stopping to urinate whenever we had to.
Through it all, I didn't really know how to act. To this point I only knew how to act disappointed, heartbroken and long-suffering. I could write about how deserving Red Sox fans are for a World Series Championship in ten minutes, but I can't do that anymore. Besides the usual sinking feeling, it was difficult to let any other feeling 'sink in.' Maybe it would sink in easier if were "just Baseball."
The following few days the Red Sox were still World Champions. The two phrases just sounded misplaced next to each other, like "Karate Explosion." I had time to reflect on why this was happening to me and what else is possible. Did this happen because of my publicized resistance to any other kind of pleasure for a month? Can I draw inspiration from this in other aspects of my life? Is this really a parade I'm watching on TV? Can I preorder a DVD and/or set my VCR to record every ESPN "Best of 2004" special in late December? How long after I realized what just happened will I stop being giddy? Giddy, relieved, inspired but I still needed to do one thing before got my head around what happened last week.
While I played Little League with my father as coach and brother as teammate, my Grandmother is the one who most got me interested in baseball and specifically the Red Sox. I am a Broncos fan because of my need for youthful rebellion, I am a Red Sox fan because of my Nana. I would sit and watch endless games with her during my young summers. Today Trevor Hoffman comes out to "Hells Bells" and Mariano Rivera to "Enter Sandman", in 1986 Bob Stanley came out to a ritualistic "Stanley, you jerk!" from my grandmother. 18 years and two days before Game 4, I woke up my Grandmother to see what I thought would be the Red Sox finally winning it in her lifetime (she was born in 1918), we know what happened and Nana went to bed let down again and I didn't forgive myself for waking her up that night. Nana died in 1995, never seeing the Red Sox win a World Series.
Yesterday, I bought a Red Sox World Series Championship Flag, propped it on a dowel and headed down to Lexington, Massachusetts, placed my flag at Nana's gravesite and shared a little bit of this moment with her. Yesterday was the day it all "sunk in." Of course it was an emotional moment for myself and if it seems a little bizarre or perhaps creepy, consider this. Behind my grandmother's grave were at least twenty other sites with Red Sox championship paraphernalia.
Perhaps, I'm biased but I don't know if another team has given its city and its region a moment like last Wednesday night up until yesterday. Of course it feels good for a team to win a championship but the 2004 Red Sox changed the face of an entire city, caused indescribable exuberation and gave millions of sons, daugthers, grandsons and granddaughters a reason to remember and celebrate for and with the generations before them that were not as fortunate to see a week like this. Up here, it's not "just Baseball".