18 years ago, I watched game six of the Mets-Red Sox World Series in a Cambridge Mass apartment filled with lifelong Sox fans. Although I have been a Mets fan since I was a kid, watching the ball as it trickled through Buckner’s legs was far from a pleasant experience. Back on that fateful October evening in 1986, for most of the evening the city of Boston had been on the edge of their seats, and the anticipation of a World Series win was palpable. But in that fabled moment, when history once again dealt Boston a terrible blow, you could feel the breath of hundreds of thousands in Boston slip from their lungs in a horrible gasp.
Not again. Some time in the coming four days, the biggest monkey in American sports history will be lifted from the backs of the eternally suffering Red Sox fans, and the ride so far has been wonderful to watch. I don’t adhere to the superstitions that have floated everywhere in Boston for the past few months, but yeah, this truly is a team of destiny. I love the scraggly look. I love the fact that they ripped the heart out of the Yankees in one of the best series I have ever watched. I love the fact that the soft-spoken Terry Francona is about to assume the position of a god to the city of Boston and throughout New England.
A Red Sox *and* a Kerry victory, all in one week! The gods are looking down on Boston with great affection these days.
Listen to this great ATC piece on the possible ending of the Curse of the Bambino (requires Real Player).