Have I mentioned that I love baseball?
Oh, and by the way the Red Sox are the 2013 World Champions. Isn’t the world a glorious place?
Let’s go back to the day of game 6. I was a hot mess. From the moment my eyes opened that morning, I knew that it was going to be a long day. The World Series was on the line. We were one win away from the rings, the parade, the DVD…it was all so close but not yet within arms’ reach. We were one win away from winning in Boston for the first time in almost 100 years. Would the Red Sox be able to pull it off tonight? Or would the Cardinals force a game 7 where anything could happen? This city did not deserve the heartbreak of losing a game 7 and I couldn’t handle the stress of having a game 7 at all.
That night, after several attempts, my friends and I finally found a place that wasn’t overrun by anxious fans and had enough TVs so that everyone could watch the game. We all settled into our table at Sunset Cantina and prepared ourselves for a long night of baseball and a roller coaster of emotions.
As it turns out, the roller coaster only went up. There were no dips or turns, we just kept soaring higher and higher until the victory was ours to celebrate.
For most people, anyway. For me, my excitement and joy stopped at end of of the seventh inning to make room for complete and utter panic. As the game got closer to a close and people started counting outs left in the game, my stomach was twisting into an unsolvable knot and my hands went numb. I didn’t care that we had 6 runs, to me that just meant it would be that much more devastating to lose the game. I just kept thinking about how ugly the game could get and how heartbreaking and disappointing it would be to lose at that point. As the game continued, I grew more silent. I just sat in my booth with my arms wrapped around my legs and watched. When the eighth inning ended, and the Red Sox were just three Koji Uehara outs away from winning it all, I just put my head down and waited. So much was at stake. Since I had moved to Boston, I had been waiting for the Red Sox to do something great in the postseason. My first three years at BU had passed without the Sox playing a single game of October baseball. Now, they were just three outs away from a celebration much needed in Boston. At this point, I was numb all the way to my elbows. It looked something like this:
The ninth inning began and we all watched to see if Koji would be everything he had been, a shutout closer. He was. I cried. It was magical.
We had become the 2013 World Series Champion Boston Red Sox. And we did it in BOSTON. It was absolutely amazing. We walked down Commonwealth Ave, joined the crowds in singing “Sweet Caroline” and “Tessie,” and high-fived strangers passing by. There was no better place to be that night. (That’s obviously a lie, the Red Sox clubhouse was clearly the best place to be, but just work with me, okay?)
The following Saturday my friends and I headed to Boylston at the crack of dawn to secure front row spots at the Rolling Rally. The bearded duck boats rolled down the street and you could feel the excitement in the air. Jacoby Ellsbury hoisted the trophy up for all to see, Koji Uehara and Junichi Tazawa threw bracelets out to the crowd, Jonny Gomes stuck out his beard and everyone loved it. But, the best part was when the parade paused at the marathon finish line and none other David Ortiz walked no more than three feet from where we were standing. He got down from his duck boat to say a few words on the float where the Dropkick Murphys were playing. After he made his speech, he sauntered by us one more time and I was in the presence of greatness. It was the closest to royalty I’ve ever come.
The parade eventually came to an end and marked the close of the 2013 season, leaving us to bask in it’s glory and wait to see what 2014 will bring.
stay gold & Boston Strong,