"The Red Sox killed my father and now they're coming after me."

WilliamPitt

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Wed Oct-27-04 12:10 PM
Original message

"The Red Sox killed my father and now they're coming after me."

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=simmons/041027

(snip)

See, this is about life and death. And not in the traditional sense. A Red Sox championship always felt like a race against time. (When Halberstam wrote, "The Red Sox killed my father and now they're coming after me," he wasn't kidding.) I keep thinking about my dad, and my friend Walsh, and my buddy Geoff's mother-in-law Neets, as well as every other over-50 person in my life who follows this team. Those are the people who passed a certain point in life and started thinking to themselves, "Wait a second, is this thing EVER going to happen?" Obviously, I'm not quite there yet; but after three decades of following this team, I could feel the guillotine inching closer and closer. That's what it's like to be a Red Sox fan.

On the Sons of Sam Horn message board, there's a terrific thread started by an eloquent poster named jacklamabe65, who went online before Game 7 of the Yankees series and listed all the people the Red Sox needed to "Win It For" That was the name of the thread. Here was the last paragraph:

"Most of all, win it for James Lawrence Kelly, 1913-1986. This one's for you, Daddy. You always told me that loyalty and perseverance go hand in hand. Thanks for sharing the best part of you with me."

The lurkers were touched. Within six days, there were 32 pages of posts (and counting) from SOSH members, some of the most heartwarming stuff you can imagine. It's an amazing thread. Plow through the posts and you feel like you're plowing through the history of the franchise -- just about every memorable player is mentioned at some point -- as well as the basic themes that encompass the human experiences. Life and death. Love and family. Friendship and loss.

"Win it for my Grandfather (1917-2004) who never got to see the Red Sox win it all but always believed. And for my Dad who watches each and every game wishing his Dad was there to watch with him."

"Win it for my 10-year-old son Charlie who fell asleep listening to Game 7 of the 2003 ALCS assuming the Sox would win. When he awakened the next morning, he asked me, eagerly, "Did we win, Dad?" When I told him, gently, No, we did not win, his anguished moan startled me. I knew I had raised him as a Red Sox fan and I began to question whether that was a good thing."

"Win it for my grandfather, who succumbed to Alzheimer's in 2002. In one of my last conversations with him, he asked me how Ted Williams was doing. During Game 7 on October 20, his birthday, he was smiling down on the Red Sox."

"Win it for my boss, a dear friend who lost his dad unexpectedly in March of this year. More than once this season, I've seen him glance at the phone after a game, half-expecting his father to call to commiserate, rejoice, or just shoot the breeze -- I've also seen the sadness in his eyes as he realizes that the call isn't coming. Win it for his dad, a lifelong fan who never had the opportunity to witness his beloved team taking it all."

There are hundreds of posts like those. And since I never took the time to post my own thoughts, I'm doing it now. If you don't mind.

Here we go ...

Win it for Buckner. He deserves to live a normal life again. Always did. Same with Grady Little. And Bob Stanley. Basically, everyone who ever played for the team but that traitor Clemens.

Win it for Dave Cirilli, the creator of the Ewing Theory. If the Red Sox won the World Series after trading Nomar, that would be just another notch in his belt. We're talking "SportsCentury and Beyond" material at this point.

Win it for Teddy Ballgame, whose dastardly son humiliated and degraded him in the final years of his life (and then even after he died). Not the way he should have gone out.

Win it for my Mom, who dressed me up in a Freddie Lynn jersey for two straight Halloweens; picked me up and drove me home from Tom Demas's house (I was catatonic) after Game 6 in '86; and learned not to ask "What's the score?" if I was sitting in front of the TV with a frown on my face. Last weekend, she wore a Sox jersey into a French restaurant just to taunt her brother, my Uncle Ricky, a trash-talking Yankees fan in deep denial right now. Everyone thought she would take it off during dinner. She kept it on the whole time. Now that's a Mom.

Win it for Theo Epstein -- 30 years old and living the dream. The Nomar-Cabrera trade remains the second-gutsiest move in the history of Boston sports, right behind Belichick benching Bledsoe for Brady.

Win it for the guys at Sonny McLean's, the guys at SOSH, the guys at Sullivan's Pub in Charlestown and the guys from the Baseball Tavern (where I have never ordered an appletini in my life, contrary to published reports).

Win it for my friends who love the team and have no problem talking with me about inane things like "Do you think Dale Sveum has a depth-perception problem?" and "Doesn't Rich Garces seem like the type of guy who could clear out the bullpen with one good fart?" for hours on end.

Win it for all the non-Boston readers who didn't mind that I spent the last three weeks writing the same things about the same baseball team. Thanks for the free pass.

Win it for the Sports Gal, who's giving serious consideration to naming our first kid "Papi Orlando Johnny Martinez Simmons" some day.

Win it for the bird who crapped on my shirt two weeks ago. Sure, I have Legionnaire's Disease now. But it was worth it.

Most of all, win it for my Dad, who carried me into Fenway when I was little and kept carrying me as a Sox fan ever since. I hope he does the same for Papi Orlando Johnny Martinez Simmons some day, right after he bounces the little kid on his lap and tells the story of the time the 2004 Red Sox won the World Series.

...more...