Goodie54
10-28-2004, 03:15 PM
Game 3 of the Anahiem series. Sometimes you forget what postseason feels like when 162 games blend together. Thank you, David Ortiz.
The Yankees - oh my god - the yankees. This is the big one, nothing else in sports can compare to a seven game series against the most hated francise in the history of gamesmanship. Bring it on.
Game one - Probably the biggest disgrace that I have displayed as a sports fan. I went to a Beastie Boys concert on this night. Ah, the pursuasive power of a girlfriend. All I took away from this night is desperatly trying to find a quiet nook in the Worcester Centrum to listen to a message from my best friend, only to be disapointed by his solum voice "Schilling got shelled, 7-1 Yankees". Well, there goes game one. But wait, I'm in the parking lot, ready to leave, and I hear cheering. Other Red Sox fans are gettin roudy. The Sox have come all the way back and are only down 1 run. I love this team. The car ride home proves disapointing as our beloved team falls short once again to the evil empire.
Game 3 - All I remember is my brother, my best friend, my father and I first figuring out how many runs the Sox have to score each inning to inch back into the game. At some point, we move on to how this team can win each of the next four games, Somehow we come up with this "If lowe can come through tommorrow, then we have Pedro and Schilling, and well, we all know, anything can happen in game 7." Defying all probability, it all seemed to make sense at the time.
Game 4 and 5 - Utter torture. I have to admit, I love baseball, but there was no joy derived from the half inning the yankees were batting. Every damn pitch took another minute off my life. Normally when the sox win games like these, I feel overjoyed and excited. Relief is the only word to describe what I felt.
Games 6 & 7 1-4 of the world series - The thing I'll remember about these games is wearing the same clothes every night, sitting in the same chair, watching with the same family and friends and an overwelming feeling that this is the year. It's really gonna happen.
The moment I'll remember most as I'm sure many of you can relate is, my dad. He's lived through 55 seasons of disapointment and EVERY year, and this is not a cliche, my father is the most optomistic person I've ever known, he says (right around March or April), "this could be the year". Well, dad, finally, it was.
And finally, the one unforgettable moment that will stick with me long after the parade and long after the last leaf hits the ground in the fall of 2004 -
Hugging my dad at the end and seeing the tears stream down his face.
I know there's thousands of stories like this, but that doesn't make each and every one special.
Thank you for everything, 2004 Boston Red Sox.
Let's do it again real soon.
Peace
Goodie
The Yankees - oh my god - the yankees. This is the big one, nothing else in sports can compare to a seven game series against the most hated francise in the history of gamesmanship. Bring it on.
Game one - Probably the biggest disgrace that I have displayed as a sports fan. I went to a Beastie Boys concert on this night. Ah, the pursuasive power of a girlfriend. All I took away from this night is desperatly trying to find a quiet nook in the Worcester Centrum to listen to a message from my best friend, only to be disapointed by his solum voice "Schilling got shelled, 7-1 Yankees". Well, there goes game one. But wait, I'm in the parking lot, ready to leave, and I hear cheering. Other Red Sox fans are gettin roudy. The Sox have come all the way back and are only down 1 run. I love this team. The car ride home proves disapointing as our beloved team falls short once again to the evil empire.
Game 3 - All I remember is my brother, my best friend, my father and I first figuring out how many runs the Sox have to score each inning to inch back into the game. At some point, we move on to how this team can win each of the next four games, Somehow we come up with this "If lowe can come through tommorrow, then we have Pedro and Schilling, and well, we all know, anything can happen in game 7." Defying all probability, it all seemed to make sense at the time.
Game 4 and 5 - Utter torture. I have to admit, I love baseball, but there was no joy derived from the half inning the yankees were batting. Every damn pitch took another minute off my life. Normally when the sox win games like these, I feel overjoyed and excited. Relief is the only word to describe what I felt.
Games 6 & 7 1-4 of the world series - The thing I'll remember about these games is wearing the same clothes every night, sitting in the same chair, watching with the same family and friends and an overwelming feeling that this is the year. It's really gonna happen.
The moment I'll remember most as I'm sure many of you can relate is, my dad. He's lived through 55 seasons of disapointment and EVERY year, and this is not a cliche, my father is the most optomistic person I've ever known, he says (right around March or April), "this could be the year". Well, dad, finally, it was.
And finally, the one unforgettable moment that will stick with me long after the parade and long after the last leaf hits the ground in the fall of 2004 -
Hugging my dad at the end and seeing the tears stream down his face.
I know there's thousands of stories like this, but that doesn't make each and every one special.
Thank you for everything, 2004 Boston Red Sox.
Let's do it again real soon.
Peace
Goodie