I’ve been spoiled. For the last three years my Boston Red Sox have made the playoffs. Sure, it was never because of a first place finish in the division, but we still got there. Every September was its own thrill. In 2003 every teenage fan was christened as part of The Nation when Grady Little rode Pedro a little too long and consequently broke our virgin hearts. Hearts unaccustomed to the sting felt by older fans whose twitching at the sound of the name Bucky was as reliable as their navy blue caps with the bright red B.
Then there was 2004.
Even in 2005 when our hero from the year before was hurting and Tony Graffinino was a starting infielder, we thought we had a chance. But the magic of the previous October had faded and fans were slapped by the reality of a harsh three-game sweep at the hands of another formerly-hurting franchise, the Chicago White Sox who actually ended up winning the World Series.
Three years, three chances. That’s being spoiled. So how about this year?
Well, 2006 was looking great for the boys from Beantown. They started out guns-blazing with David Ortiz hitting walk-offs every other night while the defense looked like nine giant Hoover vacs sucking up any ball that was put in play. (https://www.foleyengines.com/) Not to mention we had the best young pitcher in the game in Jonathan Papelbon. He was so good that die-hards would actually hope for games at Fenway to be close in the ninth inning just so they could see the new kid throw.
Then it happened. The Red Sox hit it, and they hit it hard. Nope, not a Tanyon Sturtze fastball. They hit the wall. This team fell apart faster than a soggy sub from Philly Cheesesteak. In the amount of time it took to say, “Julian Tavarez AND Rudy Seanez??” the Sox were out of it.
Captain Varitek, Trot the dirt dog and the ever-relaible Tim Wakefield all went down for uber-significant amounts of time. Then Manny’s knee was being Manny’s knee, and that kept him and his doo-rag on the bench. Papi went down with an irregular heartbeat supposedly because all the losing was taking a toll on his giant physique. Even the younger guys started dropping. Papelbon’s shoulder is in shambles thanks to too many of those tight games at Fenway (not that anyone feels bad about getting to see him pitch in a 5-3 game against the Orioles). And Jon Lester went down with lymphoma of all things. Now a team that is used to scrapping wins to gain a Wild Card birth is pulling for their boy who’s scrapping for his life.
Even with all the injuries and the hardship, I wanted them to make the playoffs. And other Sox fans I know are wishing the same thing. Is that bad? Are we becoming more like, dare I say it, Yankees fans? If that’s true it’s only because both sets of fans want to win. They need to win. Their baseball teams make up the fiber of who they are, and when those teams struggle, we struggle to deal with it. Does that make us spoiled? Of course. Especially when you take into account that most Sox fans can fall back on Tom Brady and his chin every Sunday. God, are we spoiled. But to be honest, I would rather be spoiled than be from Cleveland.
