Attack of the Sox Vol. 1 Issue 1

The Story of the Bitter End

In my hands I struggle to hold a small cardboard box which contains a cheap piece of bread surrounding sausage, vegetables and the saliva of a man who hasn't eaten all day. As I push by thousands of people to find my place to sit, as I revel in my surroundings, as I follow an adult friend who moves with the anticipation of a small child I try in vain to put some of this cheap bread with sausage and vegetables into my gullet, but fail to get anything more then a few onions and maybe one pepper. Finally I arrive at my seat and sit down. The cheap piece of bread has turned into two pieces of cheap bread and it no longer surrounds meat and vegetables as they are now lying in a pool of oil and grease at the bottom of the cardboard box. It doesn't matter though because its September 10, 2008 and I am sitting in the bleachers of Fenway Park. The failed attempt to eat a whole sausage meets with no ill will from me; it means little when everywhere I look, everything I smell, every noise rattling in my ears is an onslaught of history. Its the first inning and I am breathless, I am bliss, I am on the edge of a seat that can barely hold my fat ass and I am friggen starving for more.

It takes little time for the Tampa Bay Rays to score and leave me fearful that Josh Beckett may not be fully recovered from his recent stint on the disabled list. Willy Aybar shoots a triple to deep right to score Cliff Floyd for the first run of the game in the top of the second. Thankfully thats all Beckett will allow in this inning. This is the first time I have ever seen him pitch in person. The last time I sat (or stood) in this majestic park was during memorial weekend way back in 2004. My good friend the J-Train and I had spent a few days in Boston watching the Red Sox face the New York Yankees. They were two of the most intense games I have ever attended especially in the wake of the Yankees destroying our World Series dreams in the previous year's American League Championship Series. Of course 2004 was a different story. The tables turned and for the first time in 86 years my team finally won the championship which set in motion a series of events that made it nearly impossible for me to get back to Fenway. The sox win a championship and suddenly everyone in New England loves them again. Tickets go quickly and the prices on EBAY rise dramatically. In fact the only way I even made it to this game in 2008 is because of the kindness of my friend Kyle's mother who gave me two free tickets that are usually saved for her company's clients.

Am I bitter that Red Sox fever has caught on with the rest of the population? No, not at all. In fact I am very proud that Red Sox nation broke the MLB sellout record just last week. I do feel upset though that while I sit at home watching all these games on NESN their are people who get to come out to Boston more often then I and whom do not notice how lucky they are. In fact they take their seat, this park, this amazing team and all of its true fans for granted. For example the gentleman from Gray, Maine who sits behind me. While thousands of people are enjoying every pitch of this game within these walls, this one "fan" who has come on a man's night out trip with the boys is ruining the experience for everyone around him. The man has spent these first three inning berating another fan who simply moved up to an empty seat to get a better view (threatening him at one point) and when he wasn't doing that he shot his mouth off at his friends. Clearly all these men were drunk before even coming in the park. Nothing wrong with that it happens all the time, but in this case he cannot hold his drink. He can do nothing more then shoot off his mouth and swear left and right trying to make a spectacle of himself. This is would be the one reason I despise the new Red Sox fever. This man who is being thrown out by security in the third inning (and forces his saddened friends to leave as well) has wasted a seat that could've gone to someone who actually wanted to see the game. To someone that would not have distracted me from seeing Dustin Pedroia double in Jed Lowrie for the tying run.

As the innings tick on so do the memories. I remember seeing both games of a double header against the Orioles as my mother's favorite player Lee Smith closed out both games for a sox sweep. I remember sitting behind third base with my uncle after getting lost all over Boston while the fans around us did everything they could to distract the Blue Jay's Kelly Gruber. I remember seeing Yaz's number retired. I remember sitting so close to David Wells in the Yankess bullpen that you could spit on him. I am sure someone did. I can remember sitting outside not once, but twice overnight with the J-Train. I remember taking my good friend Jon to his first baseball game to see them face off against the Royals, when for a brief time they were formiddable. Fitting now, since I am seeing the Tampa Bay Rays during the first season in their history where they have been a team to fear. The only thing I do not remember is how or why Neil Diamond became the 8th inning mascot, but good god its impossible not to sing along.

Now the 9th inning has ticked away and you would think I would be sad, but the game lives on. This game has been locked in a 1-1 duel since that drunkard was heaved away from my section. Its like that moment has frozen this game and condemned it to live on forever. Which is fine by me because its been too long since I have been here and as some of the crowd begins to leave I stay behind with my friend Jeff to take in every moment that is allowed to us.

Anyone who has talked baseball with me for more than five minutes knows that I am a fan of the pitcher's duel. Each team has moved into their bullpen, but still the pitching continues to shine. Now in the bottom of the tenth inning as I eagerly hope for a walk off win the hardest working player (and mouth) Dustin Pedroia leads off with a double. The crowd erupts. The cowards from Tampa intentionally walk Mr. Clutch David Ortiz. These are the moments when the crowd stops being a crowd and we all take on one form. One super fan. With our powers combined we can will another run. Kevin Youkilis comes to the plate and does one of the things I never expect from him...he hits into a double play. Dustin moves to third with two outs now and it is left to Jason Bay whose theme music comes blasting through the speakers. Pearl Jam's "Alive" seems incredibly fitting right now as Bay comes to the plate, but instead it becomes ironic as he grounds out to shortstop. The crowd becomes slimmer as fans head for their cars unable to go another inning.

That feeling that comes from being on the edge of your seat to having your head in your hands is one that I have become use to with the Red Sox. I remember Buckner. Morgan Magic. Aaron Boone and every year in between those events. Getting to the edge, but never crossing the line. Getting an inch closer each year, but the goal is always a foot away. Its what Red Sox fans know. Its who we are. Thats why I collected myself after the tenth inning and placed myself back on the edge of my seat. Just in time to. Just in time to see men at first and second with only one out. Just in time to see a sox catcher I have never even heard of have one of the worst at bats I have ever seen. Just in time to see Jacoby Ellsbury fly out to center. The crowd becomes slimmer as fans head for their cars unable to go another inning.

Oh the feeling of joy to discontent. We became so use to it. Their had been times to celebrate, but never the big time. Then came 2004. Down three games to zip to the Yankees in the ALCS and to the rest of the world it seemed to be over for the sox. Not in New England though. No in new England it doesn't matter how many times the Yankees kick us in the balls. In the pit of our stomachs we feel sick, but that sickness wrestles with hope. We felt it in game 4 as deep into extra innings we came back to win and again in game 5. Hope became something else. Now we believed and we did the impossible coming back from three games down to win the ALCS. Then they did what many said would never be done again: the Red Sox won the world series. So here in the twelfth inning with two men on and one out once again the pits of our stomachs screamed at us again. However two more quick outs dispels that feeling. The crowd becomes slimmer as fans head for their cars unable to go another inning.

The 13th inning comes and goes with nothing of any importance. Well seemingly nothing of any importance. For it is this inning I learn no matter how bad the song they play through the PA it will find a way to pump me and the rest of this crowd up to dizzying proportions. Eddie Money is screaming for me to take him home tonight and all I can do is scream back with a few hundred other people: "Be My Little Baby!". But the 13th is gone and the crowd becomes slimmer as fans head for their cars unable to go another inning.

In the top half of the fourteenth inning my worst nightmare comes true: Mike Timlin comes out of the bullpen with only one out in the inning. He promptly gives up a three run home run to Carlos Pena into the Green Monster. Everyones heart sinks. The crowd becomes slimmer as fans head for their cars unable to believe.

The announcer mocks us as he requests us all to stand for another seventh inning stretch. There is still a few hundred of us left. We will see this out to the bitter end. We have been here before. We feel weak and sick to our stomachs....,but still.....something else stirs. Tampa brings in their closer Troy Percival and something feels.....we don't know.....it just feels. Jacoby Ellsbury leads off with a double to right field. Suddenly we realize that feeling in our stomach can be dispersed by standing and screaming. Our boy, our MVP, Dustin Pedroia comes to the plate. We chant the title he has earned. "MVP!MVP!MVP!" and he walks. We are all bent over banging our hands against the many empty seats around us. Thousands of people have left and it is up to us to make enough noise to replace them....and just like that David Ortiz walks as well. The bases are loaded with nobody out and we are down by three runs in the bottom of the fourteenth inning.

Troy Percival decides he is injured and must leave the game. We wait on our heels, biting our nails as Jason Hammel seems to take forever to warm himself up. Then like a wave the sound of boos erupt through the park. Only on second listen it is not boos, but the chant of "YOU!". Kevin Youkillis has come to the plate and we believe he can deliver. Deliver he does. A sacrifice fly to right field brings us within two runs with only one out. The sounds of Pearl Jam's "Alive" come blaring through the PA.:

I, Im still alive Hey i, but, Im still alive
Hey i, boy, Im still alive
Hey i, i, i, Im still alive, yeah
Ooh yeah...yeah yeah yeah...oh...oh...

Jason Bay has stepped up to the plate. Our blood boils with anticipation. Pitch after pitch we wait without breathing. Then he strikes out swinging. Yet, we still believe. We have one opportunity left in the form of Alex Cora. We believe. When his bat strikes the ball we hold our breath. When we see the ball quickly dart into left center field dropping fast we open our eyes as wide as we can. When the center fielder catches the ball ending the game we feel our hearts drop one final time. The crowd becomes slimmer as we've reached the bitter end.

I do not feel bad though. Red Sox fans have seen this (felt this) bitter end hundreds of times before. Its what defines us. Its what makes us stronger. Its this team that teaches us to believe in hope. No matter how bad we are one year we always believe that next year we will be greater. No matter how bad we are one day we always believe we will be greater the next day. No matter how bad we are one half inning we always believe we will be greater the next half inning. Its this belief, this hope that brings us together in a way that makes me feel that I truly can use the word "we" to describe this team. The fans of Boston are as much a part of this team as the players. More so then any other professional team. Its this belief that can make a man like myself who believes in no God understand people of faith. This hope that leads me to believe. This faith that teaches us no matter how many bitter endings we may experience in life that we can always believe that their is at least one more moment of glory left in us to erase everything dark that has come before it.