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BAMBINO'S CURSE

 


DIARY OF A RED SOX FAN


SATURDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2004

SENDING GOOD TIDINGS



As I sit here in the predawn glow of a Christmas morning and everyone else still
in bed (with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads) now seemed as good a
time as any to give a brief update and say hello.

If you haven't already seen it, I have a guest column over on Alex Belth's Bronx
Banter blog. (Yes, yes, it's a Yankees' fan blog. But a darned good one and Alex
has been one of my favorite baseball writers on the web for a couple seasons
now.) In the column, I offer a longer explanation for the post World Series
archival of this site as well as offering a sense of where my head is at these
days.

In other news, I'll be doing a panel at this year's South by Southwest (SXSW)
Interactive Festival in Austin on March 13th. It'll be a one hour session in
which I discuss the history of the Bambino's Curse site as well as offering some
tips and tricks on blogging and predicting where the baseball blogosphere is
headed. (And by predicting I mean making wild asses guesses that have a very
remote chance of coming to pass. Speaking of remote chances, did you hear about
this asteroid? It's comforting to know the Red Sox won another World Series
before the world gets blown to bits.)

As for the future of my own Red Sox blogging, I've decided on a name for the new
site.

Invincible Summer: Diary of a Red Sox Fan.

I got the idea from a Camus quote: "In the depth of winter, I finally learned
that within me there lay an invincible summer." It's perfect, I think, as it
really gets at the "positive visualization" attitude we all had going and
dovetails nicely with the Sisyphian struggles we all went through for so long.

The design for the new site has been mocked and it'll be reachable at
http://www.invinciblesummer.com once it's launched, hopefully no later than
Opening Day and with luck by Spring Training.

I'll post the infrequent updates here in the meantime.

Keep your Sox on.



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THURSDAY, OCTOBER 28, 2004

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED (FOR REAL!)



> The clouds are broken in the sky,
>    And thro' the mountain-walls
> A rolling organ-harmony
>    Swells up, and shakes and falls.
> Then move the trees, the copses nod,
>    Wings flutter, voices hover clear:
> "O just and faithful knight of God!
>    Ride on! the prize is near."
> So pass I hostel, hall, and grange;
>    By bridge and ford, by park and pale,
> All-arm'd I ride, whate'er betide,
>    Until I find the holy Grail.
> (from Tennyson's "Sir Galahad")

Tie up your steed Galahad, the Grail Cup is in hand!

And just like that it's all gone: No more Curse; No more 1918; No more getting
the rock almost to the top of the hill only to have it roll back down and crush
us…

The subject line in an email I received from my since boyhood friend and diehard
Sox fan, Mike says it all: "Now I can get on with the rest of my life."

Hallelujah!  Sweet relief.

>  "So many people can die happy now,'' general manager Theo Epstein said. "But
> a whole lot more can live happy. . . . I hope they're getting that '2000!'
> chant ready for the Yankees in Boston next year" (Horrigan, Herald).

I hope someone is right now commissioning an artist to create the Theo Epstein
statue for prominent placement. Thank you, Theo Epstein! Thank you Bronson
Arroyo, Alan Embree, Keith Foulke, Curtis Leskanic, Derek Lowe, Pedro Martinez,
Mike Myers, Curt Schilling, Mike Timlin, and Tim Wakefield. Thank you, Doug
Mirabelli and Jason Varitek. Thank you, Mark Bellhorn, Orlando Cabrera, Doug
Mientkiewicz, Kevin Millar, Bill Mueller, Pokey Reese, Kevin Youkilis, Johnny
Damon, Gabe Kapler, Trot Nixon, Manny Ramirez (MVP!), Dave Roberts, and David
Ortiz. And thank you, Terry Francona.

Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, everyone who has stopped by this blog
once, twice, or a couple hundred times in the past four seasons, thank you!

My work here is done.

This will be the final, regular post to the Bambino's Curse weblog. The site,
however, and all the archives will remain online forever, as a small testament
and recollection of what it was like to be a fan before the Red Sox won their
first World Series since 1918. (Like anyone wants to relive that!)

And I will resurface somewhere, somehow, and in some form in the future (like
Dr. Who after a regeneration). Indeed, I just this morning bought a couple of
domains that I may use for the new endeavor. Plus for the past couple of months
me and a couple other folks (whom I won't name but let's just say they make the
best fan t-shirts in the world) have been planning a joint project that we hope
to launch by Opening Day 2005. (You'll love it! Trust me.)

Until then, I bid you au revoir.

Keep your Sox on!



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WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 27, 2004

"WE ARE RIPE, REAP US!"



The time of mists and mellow fruitfulness is finally, finally upon us. One win
away from a World Series victory? I'm with Jackie MacMullen in asking, "How did
this happen?"

> How is it this band of self-described idiots, with raggy hair and baggy pants
> and shabby defense (eight errors through the first two games) find themselves
> on the cusp of doing something Ted Williams, Carl Yastrzemski, Jim Rice,
> Carlton Fisk, Roger Clemens, and Nomar Garciaparra never were able to achieve
> wearing the Boston uniform?

And forget about asking whether or not I dare to eat a peach, the hapless, been
burned before Prufrock in me wonders, "Do I dare even imagine that the Red Sox
can win one more game in 2004?" Partly, of course, my trepidation is rooted
firmly in the fecund, weighted with weeds, funeral plot of memory where the
headstone inscription reads, "2 outs, 2 strikes, bottom of the 9th, Shea
Stadium, 1986."

Why not just give in believe this is the year? After all, history is on our
side.

> … the Sox become the 21st team to surge to a 3-0 lead in World Series history.
> All 20 predecessors went on to win the title, including 17 by sweeps. Each of
> the last five teams to take a 3-0 lead has won the championship in four games.
> St. Louis has not held a lead in any game this series (Horrigan, Herald).

But I'd be more given to just believe it, oddly enough, if the Red Sox had not
just become the first team ever to come back from being down 0-3 in MLB playoff
history. So here I am then, in this classic, psychological approach/avoidance
conflict. I'm barely able to move, let alone think.

You know, I'm trying to avoid the self-referential, chip on the shoulder, Red
Sox fan attitude that so infuriates the rest of the world, the "It's all about
us" attitude, but what fans other than Red Sox fans would find themselves so
wedged between this historical Scylla and Charybdis? No team comes back from 0-3
except our team who came back from 0-3, round and round the whirlpool cum
cesspool of possible imagined outcomes spins and spins in my mind.

How did this happen?

And what of the this moon?

> A lunar eclipse is due to start less than an hour before the Sox and St. Louis
> Cardinals play the fourth game of the World Series tonight. If skies are
> clear, the moon over Busch Stadium will be blood red in the late innings.
> 
> There has never been a full lunar eclipse in the middle of a World Series
> game. Red October, indeed (Shaughnessy).

Do we dare imagine this is the moon Ted Hughes calls forth in his poem "Harvest
Moon"?

> The flame-red moon, the harvest moon,
> Rolls along the hills, gently bouncing,
> A vast balloon,
> Till it takes off, and sinks upward
> To lie on the bottom of the sky, like a gold doubloon.
> The harvest moon has come,
> Booming softly through heaven, like a bassoon.
> And the earth replies all night, like a deep drum
> 
> So people can't sleep,
> So they go out where elms and oak trees keep
> A kneeling vigil, in a religious hush.
> The harvest moon has come!
> 
> And all the moonlit cows and all the sheep
> Stare up at her petrified, while she swells
> Filling heaven, as if red hot, and sailing
> Closer and closer like the end of the world.
> 
> Till the gold fields of stiff wheat
> Cry `We are ripe, reap us!' and the rivers
> Sweat from the melting hills.

Let's see how the poem mirrors what's going on in Red Sox Nation. Red moon.
Check. Sound of drumming in your brain? Check. Can't sleep? Check. Religious
hush? Check. Red Sox World Series victory may cause the end of the world? Check.
Sweat? Check. Ripe and ready to be reaped? For cripes sake yes, yes, yes. Reap
me already!

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TUESDAY, OCTOBER 26, 2004

GO GREASED LIGHTNIN'. GO.



So I bet I'm not the only one who has been going through the past couple of day
like this: you'll be sitting there at work or driving or eating breakfast or
whatever and about every couple of minutes you'll go, "OHMYGAW. THE RED SOX ARE
IN THE WORLD SERIES!"

It still hasn't really sunk in. Hell, I don't want it to sink in as I don't want
to lose the giddiness of it all. And just when I do start to get used to the
idea I then remember, "THE RED SOX HAVE A 2-0 GAME LEAD IN THE WORLD SERIES!"

Now if that's not enough, how about this:

> After batting practice last night, Pedro Martinez slowly was peeling off his
> red socks in front of his locker at Busch Stadium.
> 
> Placing his hand on Martinez' back, locker neighbor Curt Schilling leaned in
> close to his teammate and said, "Did I tell you how excited I am to watch you
> pitch tomorrow night? I've got chills" (Silverman, Herald).

And you know Schilling means it. The guy is the real deal despite jealous,
anti-Schilling snickering found elsewhere. (Believe it or not, some are
suggesting he faked the blood on his sock. SoSH has a thread on this and other
lunacy.)

As for chills, I've got 'em, too, big time. I mean I've got more chills than
Danny Zuko laying eyes on the lithesome Sandy Olsson for the first time. They're
multiplyin'. It's electrifyin'.

Bob Ryan isn't alone when he suggests Pedro is the one we want tonight:

> One game to out-Curt Curt. One game to say goodbye. One game to say, "Pay me."
> One game to show off for his countrymen watching on TV down in the Dominican.
> One game to have people back home chanting "Pe-dro!" in the living rooms and
> bars of New England. One game to remind everyone that he still can pitch as
> well as anyone in the world. One game to put the Boston Red Sox up, 3-0.

I just had another ohmygaw thought: PEDRO MARTINEZ IS PITCHING IN HIS FIRST
WORLD SERIES EVER. FOR THE BOSTON RED SOX. WHO ARE UP 2-0. IN THE WORLD SERIES!

Alan Embree joins the chills for Pedro chorus,

> "I expect to see a pretty spectacular Pedro (tonight)," the left-hander said.
> "He's never been (in a World Series) before, and he's got every other accolade
> you can think of. This will help him complete another great chapter in his
> career" (Silverman).

In other news, did you read that La Russa and the Cardinals are all upset about
their accommodations while in Boston?

> La Russa told the St. Louis Post-Dispatch that his team was upset about having
> to be stationed at the Quincy Marriott, which is at the base of the Southeast
> Expressway at the juncture of I-93 and Route 3. He complained about the
> location of the hotel, the lack of late-night room service and traffic coming
> and going through Quincy.
> 
> "It was a real bummer to the point where a lot of us were upset and
> embarrassed," La Russa said (Horrigan, Herald).

I'm still trying to figure out what was "embarrassing" about it. Meanwhile, the
Red Sox contend those were the best rooms available considering everything going
on in Boston (Head of the Charles Regatta and Parents Weekend at several local
universities). Evidently, though, there are plenty of rooms available in St.
Louis. (Hard to believe considering what a happening place it is and all.)

By the way, did you know THE RED SOX ARE IN THE WOLRD SERIES!?

Unbelievable.

Let me close with what Beth calls a "tiny and quiet" side of happiness:

> … tonight at work I saw a sign that's been on the newsroom wall for a little
> while announcing in blue ballpoint pen that copies of the book Chasing
> Steinbrenner were available downstairs for $26.00. Tonight I noticed as I
> walked to the elevator that the word "Chasing" had been written over in red
> marker that said "CATCHING??" (Cursed and First).

Beautiful.

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*permalink


MONDAY, OCTOBER 25, 2004

IT'S HAPPENING (ISN'T IT?)



Trying my best to temper my emotions. Although it was 18 years ago, the memories
of the first two Sox wins, on the road no less, against the Mets in '86 are all
of a sudden very much on my mind.

But you know what? In 1986 the we, players and fans alike, didn't have anything
quite like this:

> I just wish everybody on this planet could experience the day I just
> experienced I will never use the words 'unbelievable' and 'the Lord' in the
> same sentence. It was the most amazing day of my life (Herald).
> 
> I left my house, and I'm driving to the park, and anyone who knows where
> Medfield is, they know it's a pretty long haul.
> 
> There were signs every mile from my house to this ballpark on fire stations,
> on telephone poles, wishing me luck. I can't explain what it was like
> (Globe)."

No need to try and explain, Mr. Schilling. While we have no idea of the pain you
were going through, on the emotional side, I suspect your feelings of amazement
from the energy level and adoration of the fans is very similar to our standing
aghast on your every pitch. Curt Schilling and Red Sox fans are in symbiosis. In
all the years I've watched sports, I've never experienced anything like this.

From the moment Curt Schilling first logged on to SoSH to chat with Red Sox fans
last November, we knew he was not your run of the mill ballplayer. When he spoke
of thriving in the "win or else" environment of Boston, we knew he understood.
When he wore the 1919 replica Sox jersey and told us he would "step up and help"
the Red Sox win a World Series, we appreciated his intent.

But who knew, who knew just how much he meant it all?

How many times in your life have you come across someone who is exactly what
they claim to be?

We live in a culture so awash in cliché, so full of professional athletes (and
others) telling us about "playing through pain" and "putting the team first" but
more often than not the sentiment if not being outright empty is considerably
less than advertised.

Not so with number 38 of the Boston Red Sox.

I've never seen anything quite like it.

And the rest of the team inspires awe as well. Varitek, Cabrera, Bellhorn, two
out hit after two out hit …

If this isn't the year, then I can't imagine what is.

me already!





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