86-ing the Curse

So it's happened, the confluence of several improbable events to shape what will likely be my favorite sports moment of all time, for as long as I live: the Red Sox winning the World Series. My previous favorite, the Patriots' upset over the the St Louis Rams, (so many fateful New England championships seem to go through that arch) has been eclipsed like the moon that fateful Wednesday night. And it isn't so much the victory itself that makes the story, as the games themselves, with the exception of the first, were largely lackluster affairs which were decided in the first inning. The story of the road to get there was as dramatic as can be imagined. Frank Capra would blush to film such a thing.

First, we have the whole Nomar/Pay-Rod/Manny debacle-that-wasn't, where the eventual Series MVP was on waiver, our fan favorite player was alienated, and our arch-enemies sign the object of that alienation. Then Nomar sighs and pouts his way to a trade while we're in a 10 game hole behind the Yanks. With Garciaparra and his ever present little black cloud out of the clubhouse, the idiots start cutting loose again, just having a good time playing ball. And winning.

Fast forward to the ALCS, and our Ace limps out to the mound only to get hammered on account of his bothersome tendon. The Sox drop 3 games to the hated Yankees, and are two outs away from a humiliating sweep, facing possible the greatest closer ever to play the game, when Dave Roberts, of all people, saves our season. After two titanic extra-inning gut-wrenchers, we were 3-2, and Curt Schilling takes the mound one more time in the den of iniquity. His foot appears to be barely attached to his leg through the judicious application of duck tape, spit, and dental floss. He pitches brilliantly anyway. We get two calls reversed. The first call, Bellhorn's double turned homer, lit up a light bulb in my mind. This is not what's supposed to happen to us, I thought tp myself. Then when Pay-Rod brought out the Bush League slap bullshit, and that got reversed, I knew it. We were going all the way, and I never doubted it since.

It's quite a liberating feeling, not waiting for the other shoe to drop, having a sense of entitlement for your ball club, and watching the other team comply all to readily. I've had a taste of what Yankee fans are used to, and I like it.