Thursday, October 21, 2004
The Greatest Win & the Worst Loss
There will be other games. God willing, a ton of other games.
I’ll center my day’s routine getting ready for these games, and call friends accordingly. The logistics of time, place, six-pack or 12-pack, chips or pretzels will fall into place like they always do. Sports talk to ready myself in the afternoon, and then those last couple hours before game time, making sure everything is in place. Hat or no hat? This t-shirt or that t-shirt?(wasn’t that the one I wore during Game 6 in ’96? But I also wore it for Game 7 in ’01…)
However, there are some games along a sports fan’s timeline that changes things forever. Rewrites the script and changes the perspective. Last night was one of those games. And all the games that follow it will feel a little different because of it.
Thanks to the greatest comeback in the history of professional baseball, the greatest rivalry in sports took a dramatic and irrevocable shift last night in Yankee Stadium. Those catch phrases and punch lines, jabs and barbs that Yankee fans have had at their disposal like a cache of ammunition have now been reduced to blanks. The favorite phrases uttered by Yankee fans, “Bucky Dent,” “Aaron Boone,” “1918,” and yes, “The Curse of the Bambino,” have been reduced to losing tickets at the racetrack. Crumpled in a frustrated fist, and left on a ground littered with cigarette butts, spit and loose change.
The Red Sox fan finally has a cadre of phrases of his own, based on one, dramatic, improbable four days of baseball: “Oh-Three in ‘04,” “Derek Lowe,” “Mariano in Game 4” and on and on…
The greatest rivalry in sports is no longer one-sided.
And more than that, the face of these two franchises have changed. Yes, the Red Sox still need to win a World Series one of these years to pay the dividends of their star-crossed history. And no, the Yankees will never play the part of “lovable losers” with any conviction. But that sheen of excellence and dominance and success that the Yankees have worn for 80 or so years has been tarnished. And that noose of futility in big spots that the Red Sox have worn for almost as long, is as loose as a necktie at the end of a wedding.
I was staggering around my house last night at about 12:40 in the morning with a half-finished bottle of Miller Lite in my hand, looking and feeling like Christopher Lloyd’s character from Taxi. In the first hours of the morning, in a quiet house, I was adjusting to this new baseball world we now live in.
I called the two biggest Red Sox fan-friends of mine. One line was busy. I got through to Mike in North Carolina. I gave my congrats, and tried to put my good foot forward. I babbled a little about history, but the message was clear: things have changed.
I listened to Joe Benigno’s overnight show on WFAN for about 40 minutes, long enough to hear a hoarse Christopher Russo on his gleeful drive back home to southwestern Connecticut. It was enough.
It’s the next day, and the world is still spinning. Contrary to a headline in one of the New York tabloids this morning, Hell has not frozen over. I’m a bit tired, but having a good day at home.
In terms of queasy-in-my-stomach-for-days losses, I think I’ve had three big ones: UConn vs. Duke in 1990; 1995 ALDS vs. Seattle; and 2001 Game 7 vs. Arizona. Each of these games changed my perspective of what it means to put your heart and soul into rooting for a team, and how risky a proposition that can be.
I don’t have that same feeling today. I think as you get older, and you have a decent number of good wins and bad losses under your belt, or maybe as your priorities change, you start leaving a little of that fandom-at-all-costs feeling behind. I’ve felt it subsiding a bit over the past couple years. It rears its head from time-to-time, no question. A big game in its finest moments can still grip me like few other things. However, on a day after the worst loss in the history of my favorite team, my reaction, as it should be, is much different than that 14 year old who was nearly reduced to tears by a miraculous leaning jump shot by Christian Laettner, that 19 year old who was so torn by seeing his favorite player and favorite team lose in Seattle that he was ready to swear off being a big sports fan, and that 25 year old who realized that the greatest sports run he’d ever seen was over. There’s more of a willingness to step back and just take in the story. And a realization that what I’ll probably miss as much, and what I’ll look forward to the most, is the conversation and camaraderie that this time of year and these types of games bring.
It also could have something to do that the game after the 2nd inning felt like a formality, and a firm belief by the end of the night that the better team won.
On Saturday night the Boston Red Sox will host Game 1 of the World Series. It will be a night that will feel at once like a celebratory homecoming after the historic win against the Yankees, and a night that could be the start of one of the biggest celebrations in the history of sports.
In 1986, I was 10 years old and rooted with a lot of spirit and gusto for the Mets. They were the Red Sox, after all. And that is what I had been programmed to do: root against the Red Sox.
I’ll watch the World Series, in a way that I haven’t done much over the last ten years: simply as a baseball fan. I’m rooting for good story lines and good games. Good plays and drama. I won’t be rooting against the Red Sox simply to uphold a mythological curse. As a Yankee fan, it feels like their drought is already over.
---------------------------------------------------
On the left side of this page, you’ll notice that I have a Hotmail account that serves as a depot for correspondence. I’ve received a small handful of emails since I started this blog. Since they don’t arrive in droves, I’m always a little surprised to get an email that relates to this site. A couple times, I’ve been asked to post a link. And a couple times, I’ve gotten kind words about something I’ve written. I haven’t received any hate mail, which I’ll chalk up to my low visibility.
Here’s a letter I received yesterday. I figured I’d post it since I appreciated the effort in sending it.
Alex Rodriguez should be fined or at least suspended a few games next season for unsportsmanlike conduct. I thought I was watching a championship game between adults on national television but smacking at the glove was something we did when we were kids playing sandlot baseball. I have been a Yankees fan for over 40 years because their players were a class act. George Steinbrenner needs to talk to Arod about his attitude. Arod may have talent but he is definitely not the role model I want for my grandchildren to emulate as a player. His action did contribute to the Yankee loss as it was demoralizing. Kudos to Derek Jeter for returning to first base without hesitation after the umpires made the correct call. The Yankees may have my heart but tonight I am yelling for the Red Sox.
Thank you for the complaint line.
Anne, a long-time Yankee fan
For the record, I thought the A-Rod karate chop on Arroyo was pretty classless. I don’t think he’ll get fined or suspended, but I expect he’ll be on the other end of another chin-high brushback from a Sox pitcher next season.
There was actually a similar play to this in last year’s Braves-Cubs LDS series. On a play that Robert Fick was running up the first base line, I believe he chopped or swiped at Eric Karros’ arm during a play at the bag. Karros actually had to leave the game injured. Does anyone know if Fick was fined or suspended for that? I can’t remember.
Thanks, Anne for the comments.
I will try and drop a line or two as the season nears its conclusion. In one ugly New York night, I’ve gone to being a passionate fan to objective observer. Not what you want to do with the World Series two days away.
There will be other games. God willing, a ton of other games.
I’ll center my day’s routine getting ready for these games, and call friends accordingly. The logistics of time, place, six-pack or 12-pack, chips or pretzels will fall into place like they always do. Sports talk to ready myself in the afternoon, and then those last couple hours before game time, making sure everything is in place. Hat or no hat? This t-shirt or that t-shirt?(wasn’t that the one I wore during Game 6 in ’96? But I also wore it for Game 7 in ’01…)
However, there are some games along a sports fan’s timeline that changes things forever. Rewrites the script and changes the perspective. Last night was one of those games. And all the games that follow it will feel a little different because of it.
Thanks to the greatest comeback in the history of professional baseball, the greatest rivalry in sports took a dramatic and irrevocable shift last night in Yankee Stadium. Those catch phrases and punch lines, jabs and barbs that Yankee fans have had at their disposal like a cache of ammunition have now been reduced to blanks. The favorite phrases uttered by Yankee fans, “Bucky Dent,” “Aaron Boone,” “1918,” and yes, “The Curse of the Bambino,” have been reduced to losing tickets at the racetrack. Crumpled in a frustrated fist, and left on a ground littered with cigarette butts, spit and loose change.
The Red Sox fan finally has a cadre of phrases of his own, based on one, dramatic, improbable four days of baseball: “Oh-Three in ‘04,” “Derek Lowe,” “Mariano in Game 4” and on and on…
The greatest rivalry in sports is no longer one-sided.
And more than that, the face of these two franchises have changed. Yes, the Red Sox still need to win a World Series one of these years to pay the dividends of their star-crossed history. And no, the Yankees will never play the part of “lovable losers” with any conviction. But that sheen of excellence and dominance and success that the Yankees have worn for 80 or so years has been tarnished. And that noose of futility in big spots that the Red Sox have worn for almost as long, is as loose as a necktie at the end of a wedding.
I was staggering around my house last night at about 12:40 in the morning with a half-finished bottle of Miller Lite in my hand, looking and feeling like Christopher Lloyd’s character from Taxi. In the first hours of the morning, in a quiet house, I was adjusting to this new baseball world we now live in.
I called the two biggest Red Sox fan-friends of mine. One line was busy. I got through to Mike in North Carolina. I gave my congrats, and tried to put my good foot forward. I babbled a little about history, but the message was clear: things have changed.
I listened to Joe Benigno’s overnight show on WFAN for about 40 minutes, long enough to hear a hoarse Christopher Russo on his gleeful drive back home to southwestern Connecticut. It was enough.
It’s the next day, and the world is still spinning. Contrary to a headline in one of the New York tabloids this morning, Hell has not frozen over. I’m a bit tired, but having a good day at home.
In terms of queasy-in-my-stomach-for-days losses, I think I’ve had three big ones: UConn vs. Duke in 1990; 1995 ALDS vs. Seattle; and 2001 Game 7 vs. Arizona. Each of these games changed my perspective of what it means to put your heart and soul into rooting for a team, and how risky a proposition that can be.
I don’t have that same feeling today. I think as you get older, and you have a decent number of good wins and bad losses under your belt, or maybe as your priorities change, you start leaving a little of that fandom-at-all-costs feeling behind. I’ve felt it subsiding a bit over the past couple years. It rears its head from time-to-time, no question. A big game in its finest moments can still grip me like few other things. However, on a day after the worst loss in the history of my favorite team, my reaction, as it should be, is much different than that 14 year old who was nearly reduced to tears by a miraculous leaning jump shot by Christian Laettner, that 19 year old who was so torn by seeing his favorite player and favorite team lose in Seattle that he was ready to swear off being a big sports fan, and that 25 year old who realized that the greatest sports run he’d ever seen was over. There’s more of a willingness to step back and just take in the story. And a realization that what I’ll probably miss as much, and what I’ll look forward to the most, is the conversation and camaraderie that this time of year and these types of games bring.
It also could have something to do that the game after the 2nd inning felt like a formality, and a firm belief by the end of the night that the better team won.
On Saturday night the Boston Red Sox will host Game 1 of the World Series. It will be a night that will feel at once like a celebratory homecoming after the historic win against the Yankees, and a night that could be the start of one of the biggest celebrations in the history of sports.
In 1986, I was 10 years old and rooted with a lot of spirit and gusto for the Mets. They were the Red Sox, after all. And that is what I had been programmed to do: root against the Red Sox.
I’ll watch the World Series, in a way that I haven’t done much over the last ten years: simply as a baseball fan. I’m rooting for good story lines and good games. Good plays and drama. I won’t be rooting against the Red Sox simply to uphold a mythological curse. As a Yankee fan, it feels like their drought is already over.
---------------------------------------------------
On the left side of this page, you’ll notice that I have a Hotmail account that serves as a depot for correspondence. I’ve received a small handful of emails since I started this blog. Since they don’t arrive in droves, I’m always a little surprised to get an email that relates to this site. A couple times, I’ve been asked to post a link. And a couple times, I’ve gotten kind words about something I’ve written. I haven’t received any hate mail, which I’ll chalk up to my low visibility.
Here’s a letter I received yesterday. I figured I’d post it since I appreciated the effort in sending it.
Alex Rodriguez should be fined or at least suspended a few games next season for unsportsmanlike conduct. I thought I was watching a championship game between adults on national television but smacking at the glove was something we did when we were kids playing sandlot baseball. I have been a Yankees fan for over 40 years because their players were a class act. George Steinbrenner needs to talk to Arod about his attitude. Arod may have talent but he is definitely not the role model I want for my grandchildren to emulate as a player. His action did contribute to the Yankee loss as it was demoralizing. Kudos to Derek Jeter for returning to first base without hesitation after the umpires made the correct call. The Yankees may have my heart but tonight I am yelling for the Red Sox.
Thank you for the complaint line.
Anne, a long-time Yankee fan
For the record, I thought the A-Rod karate chop on Arroyo was pretty classless. I don’t think he’ll get fined or suspended, but I expect he’ll be on the other end of another chin-high brushback from a Sox pitcher next season.
There was actually a similar play to this in last year’s Braves-Cubs LDS series. On a play that Robert Fick was running up the first base line, I believe he chopped or swiped at Eric Karros’ arm during a play at the bag. Karros actually had to leave the game injured. Does anyone know if Fick was fined or suspended for that? I can’t remember.
Thanks, Anne for the comments.
I will try and drop a line or two as the season nears its conclusion. In one ugly New York night, I’ve gone to being a passionate fan to objective observer. Not what you want to do with the World Series two days away.
