Bambino's Curse

Red Bird Nation v Red Sox Nation

Did this happen to you yesterday? Somewhere around mid-afternoon I was overcome with total exhaustion to the point where it was all I could do to hold my head up. The adrenaline from the post ALCS victory high finally wore out and the emotional ride and late nights of the past week and a half finally caught up to me. I slept so soundly last night. Content.

But it won't last long, because here come the Cardinals and the forward march to the prize that us alluded us for so long.

The win sets up a rematch of the 1946 and 1967 World Series, both won by St. Louis in seven games. It also marks the second time in four seasons that a Boston-area pro sports team will meet a St. Louis team for a championship. The Patriots defeated the St. Louis Rams to capture their first Super Bowl title in February 2002 (Burris, Globe).

And taking four isn't going to be easy.

The first thing you must know is that the Nos. 2-5 hitters in the Cardinals' lineup - Larry Walker, Albert Pujols, Scott Rolen, Jim Edmonds - are the best in the game, exceeding even the Yankees in sheer firepower. The Cardinals share similarities to the Yankees in their construction, but besides the offensive weaponry, St. Louis has a more solid rotation and a less-proven but still top-shelf closer. Just like the Yankees, the Cardinals led their league (and the majors) in wins (105-57) while finishing 13 games ahead of the wild card Astros, against whom they won 8-of-18 regular-season games before upending them, 5-2, in last night's Game 7 of the NLCS (Silverman, Herald).

Game 1: Woody Williams (great name!) against Tim Wakefield. I confess to knowing almost nothing about the Cardinals. I don't pay much attention to the National League until the Red Sox have to face the NL representatives in the World Series. So, as these things go, I'm still far more knowledgeable of guys named Strawberry, Carter, Mookie, Hernandez, and Gooden than I am with the likes of Matt Morris, Jason Marquis, and Woody Williams.

Meanwhile, so many people have emailed in the past 24 hours asking my opinion on the following: Does beating the Yankees in the ALCS mean "the curse" is over or will it take a World Series?

First let me issue the caveat that I'm not the default "curse" expert. I'm just one fan out of millions of Red Sox fans and I just happen to have a fairly popular blog that alludes to the curse in it's URL/Title. Second, let's take a second to remember that the notion of the curse is a relatively recent occurrence and a media contrived one at that:

… it's worth noting that the cute if absurd idea of a curse linked to Messrs. Frazee or Ruth didn't exist during busts in 1946, 1949, 1967, 1975 or 1978. The first mainstream print reference I find was before the 1986 World Series. A baseball stats guy named Gene Sunnen told the San Francisco Chronicle that the had exorcised "the curse of Harry Frazee" with their dramatic American League Championship Series win over the California Angels. (Mr. Sunnen says he heard the idea from other baseball nuts.)

A week or so later came the one-pitch-away collapse against the New York Mets that cemented the Sox's pathetic, and bathetic, reputation. After that game, George Vecsey of the New York Times invoked "the Curse of Babe Ruth." Four years later, "The Curse of the Bambino" entered the lexicon when Dan Shaughnessy of the Boston Globe published a book with that title (Fatsis, Wall Street Journal, October 15, 2004; Page W12).

With that said, I'm willing to grant that we can, for lack of a better word, term our Red Sox fan anxiety and frustration over not winning a World Series since 1918 and all the oddities that have occurred along the way as the Curse. Seen in that light, then, the Curse (i.e., our collective angst) will not be resolved until a World Series Pennant is again hoisted on the hallowed ground of Fenway Park.

There you have it. One fan's opinion.

A second question I've been getting asked a lot lately is "What will you do with the site Bambino's Curse if the Red Sox win it all?"

Well, let's just say "I have a plan." (Hmm, that phrase sounds so familiar. Where have I heard that before?) But it would be tempting fate to discuss any such ideas now. Let's not consider that until all the outs have been recorded and the champagne is flowing.

Finally, I need to tell you, dear readers, that tomorrow is my fifth wedding anniversary and the wife and I are headed to a dude ranch for the weekend. (No, not really, but I like to say dude ranch. We are going out of town, though.) And while I'll be in an undisclosed location and will be watching the game, I will not be posting again until Monday. At which time it is my fervent hope the Red Sox will be up 2-0.

Keep your Sox on!

Start spreading the news...

Back in April, when the Red Sox beat up on the Yankees, we Red Sox fans were sternly admonished "not to gloat," and "wait 'til October." Well, can we gloat NOW?

Oh, yes, I do believe I have my gloat on.

The Yankees last night completed the worst collapse in postseason baseball history when they got clobbered by the hated Boston Red Sox in Game 7 of an American League Championship Series they once led 3-0 (NY Post).

The worst collapse for them, the greatest comeback for us.

Leaving work yesterday I said to my colleagues, "I don't just want a win. I want the Red Sox to jump out to a tremendous early lead, and I want to see the Yankees and their fans twist on the knife for eight plus innings."

Thank you Derek Lowe. Thank you David Ortiz. Thank you Johnny Damon. You made it possible not only to beat the Yankees but also for me to enjoy it. I wasn't on the edge of my seat in anxiety. Nope. It was a lock once Damon belted that grand slammy. (Blood pressure check after the slam, 101/64, my new all time post age 40 low!) I thought to myself, "So this is what it feels like to be on the other side. Me like it."

And the Soxaholix get it right: This puts an end to the Bucky Dent crap NY fans have thrown in our faces since '78. That dog don't hunt no more. Now NY fans can torment themselves with thoughts of Johnny [expletive] Damon. (Oh, you'll get used to it Yankers. Trust me.)

"The darkest moment in Yankee history… "

If I had a parrot, I'd teach him to say that line just so I could hear it over and over and over.

The funny thing is the reality of this hasn't even begun to sink in. I'm still in shock.

Bob Ryan nails the feeling:

Every once in a while an Oscar winner gets up there and wings an acceptance speech because "I never thought I'd win, so I didn't prepare anything."

That's me. Right now.

Me, too.

I'm going to go watch the condensed game at MLB.com for the 2nd time this morning.

The Red Sox are going to the World Series!?!?!

Savor it. Savor it. Savor it.

Joy, Beautiful Spark of the Gods

Talk about Red Sox! When I saw Schilling take the mound without the high top cleat but instead the low cleat and that blood soaked sock I teared up. I'm tearing up now again as I write about it. Schilling's performance last night was the greatest sports event I've witnessed. So we are told "it's just a game." Yeah, it is. But in the same way that Beowulf is just a short story and Beethoven's Ode to Joy chorale is just people singing.

No, what we witnessed last night transcends sport. The blood soaked sock is symbolic of courage, fortitude, strength, and heroism that we are all capable of and all should strive for in our own lives. And that is why we watch these games, for moments like this:

Last night, Schilling was able to live his dream of effectively silencing the 56,128 Yankees fans who got to watch him shut down their vaunted sluggers. He did not walk a batter and struck out four. The infield pop-ups, foul balls and even the deep flies caught by Sox outfielders gave testament to how the Yankees hitters were unable to zone in on Schilling's pitches and make the kind of contact they did in Game 1 (Silverman, Herald).

And when Schilling went high and tight on A-Rod in the first, you knew something positively brilliant was unfolding before your eyes.

Save for one seventh-inning pitch to Bernie Williams, Schilling wasn't just good, or even great. He was transcendent. Pitching with a normal right shoe (after all that talk about the special high-top) -- but following a minor surgical procedure to help keep the tendon in place -- he came at the Yankees with his A material, breezing through the first six innings while allowing three hits and walking none. Did I say walk? You need four balls to do that, and it took the Yankees 19 batters (Derek Jeter in the sixth) before someone could wangle a three-ball count, let alone four (Ryan, Globe).

Again, unequivocally, I say Schillings performance last night in the Bronx was the most intense, heroic moment I've witnessed in all of sport.

How confident was I in Curt Schilling last night? Let's put it this way. I'm a guy who has been struggling with hypertension (welcome to your 40s kids!) for the past year or so, but I took my blood pressure during the fourth, when Schilling gave up back to back singles to Alex Rodriguez and Gary Sheffield (may they rot in hell) and it was an amazing 107/64. My lowest reading since I started this monitoring, low salt business during one of the most stressful interludes of Game 6.

And while the notion of a player being "due" is pure bunk, a figment of our active human imaginations and naivety regarding prob and stats, every time Mark Bellhorn came up I had that giddy feeling that he was, indeed, due. And so he was. (Is it true, as the CHB reports, that the ball "bounced off the tummy of a fan in the front row" to lead the the original miscall by the ump? If so, then that fan must have the tummy of the Buddha.)

So here we are: Game 7. Can you believe it? We waited an entire year for this and now here it is. Derek Lowe, are you ready? We are.

Joy, beautiful spark of the gods,
Daughter of Elysium,
We enter fire imbibed,
Heavenly, thy sanctuary.

I Luuurve This Team

It's difficult to believe what we're seeing.

Even were the pressure on these Red Sox, what would it matter? Trailing 4-3 in the ninth inning of Game 4, the Sox rallied against the great Mariano Rivera to tie the game, then won it on a David Ortiz [stats, news] homer against Paul Quantrill in the 12th. Last night, the Sox scored a pair against the Yankees bullpen in the eighth, then won on a single by Ortiz in the bottom of the 14th.

 Combined time of the two games: 10 hours, 51 minutes. Only the Red Sox and Yankees could play two of the longest, most emotionally draining games in postseason history and leave you wanting for more (Massarotti, Herald).

I love the headline in this morning's New York Post: THIS SOX! I imagine it does if you're a Yankees fan. At last they are getting a taste of the bile that gets coughed up after being on the wrong end of an extra-inning walk off.

The Yankees, of course, remain confident:

The Yankees left 18 men on base, one short of the major league postseason record. "That's not bad for a six-hour game," cracked Derek Jeter. "I still feel good about our situation," he said (Kernan, NY Post).

And they should. The Sox haven't won in the Bronx since September 17th, and have dropped four straight there. Still Red Sox fans have every reason to be hopeful:

"I'm ready to go,"' said Schilling, who gets his chance to force a Game 7 and gain a huge share of redemption after struggling with his injured ankle and allowing six runs in three innings in Game 1. … "It's a chance to get us one step closer to the World Series, it's a chance to make up for Game 1, it's a chance to pick my teammates up," Schilling said (Silverman, Herald).

Now we are told part of the reason Schilling is ready to go is due to a "new high-top Reebok cleat." But that's all we get. Now I can't be the only engineering/design geek in Red Sox Nation who is dying to know more. Is this an off the shelf cleat or a custom job? What it look like? It's too much to get a photo or an illustration/drawing? And what precisely about this cleat is different than the brace Schilling wore in Game 1? How is this better?

Is it too much to ask that we actually get some meat with all the potatoes the mainstream Boston sports media dishes out? I'm amazed that with the level of access these guys get to the player and coaches, we are more often than not given reports that could have been filed from a space station orbiting earth they are so devoid of up close and personal detail. Am I asking for too much here? What is the frequency, Kenneth?

Meanwhile, Yankees fan Alex Belth quotes our favorite mensch, Alvy Singer, in leading off his post game thoughts: "As Balzac said, 'There goes another novel."

Now let me add another Annie Hall quote from Alvy that sums up how we Red Sox fans feel about our team this morning:

Love is too weak a word for what I feel - I luuurve you, you know, I loave you, I luff you, two F's, yes I have to invent, of course I - I do, don't you think I do?

If you want more back and forth between me and Alex, be sure to check out "Banter vs. Curse" at All-Baseball.com if you haven't already. We have a daily interchange that gets posted each afternoon.

The Teaches of Peaches (Rerun)

Ever heard of the singer who goes by the name "Peaches"? Probably not, right? And even if you have, you may not like her as Peaches is very much an acquired taste — But I'm telling you Peaches has the Red Sox theme song pegged right now. Check out these lyrics from the song "Operate."

Just keep it going
Just keep it going
Just keep it going

He's not dead, he's gonna live
He's not dead, he's gonna live
I see his eyes rolling back in his head

You really have to hear it to appreciate it. Unfortunately, none of the 30 sec samples feature the "He's not dead, he's gonna live" chorus which is the truly a propos part for a Red Sox team that is still alive (barely). (Though you can buy the song at iTunes for 99 cents. Go ahead and humor me by getting it. C'mon. And while you're there, check out this Peaches tune as well. Too funny.)

So the Red Sox are definitely not dead.

Quantrill started Ortiz off with a ball, then a called strike. After another ball, Quantrill came in with a fastball that tailed in toward the left-handed hitting Ortiz. He read the pitch instantly as the same one that Quantrill has had success with against him before, and he hooked it high and very deep … (Silverman)

And, now, confession time. I did not stay up to see the triumphant twelfth inning into the Yankees' bullpen walk off blast by David Ortiz. Want to know what else? I didn't watch any of it. Not a single pitch. Not a single swing. You can berate me as being a fair weather fan. Whatev. I was just too pissed after Saturday night especially with the way things were going to give the Red Sox any more of my time. Sorry fellahs, when you're stinking up the joint, you can't beat Desperate Housewives for my viewing attention.

Yes, dear readers, I had arrived on Sunday to bury the Red Sox not to praise them. I can't be the only one in Red Sox Nation to have done so, can I?

So they're not dead. But are they gonna live?

Even as they faced elimination against the Yankees in Game 4 of the American League Championship Series, the Sox finalized plans to go with Martinez in Game 5 today at Fenway Park and announced Schilling as their Game 6 starter tomorrow in the Bronx if they got that far (Hohler).

I'm not ready to say I've regained the confidence I had a week ago, on the eve of the first game. Heck, I don't even think I have half of that fortitude back. That defeat Saturday night is not something I can just pretend didn't happen. Can't just wish it away. But there is hope. Yes, there is hope.

[Note: I just did a quick search of Bambino's to see if I'd mentioned Peaches before and, much to my embarrassment, I did and even mentioned and linked to the song "Operate" in almost the very same way as I did on this post back on July 6th! Dang. Too late now to start over. I feel so finite. Please forgive my repetition. It appears ever more likely that I'll fade into my senior years as one of those guys who repeats the same story over and over and over. "Did I ever tell you about the time…?" Ah, only like 500 times, old man.]

With Eyes Cast Downward

Are we left to conclude that the 10.5 game back to 2.5 games back Aug/Sept Red Sox, the best record in baseball since the All Star Break Red Sox, the "better team than the Yankees on paper" Red Sox were not the real Red Sox, but that the uninspired .500 ball Red Sox of May and June were the true article?

Or are we going to go with the thinking that all of a sudden the Yankees have morphed into this unstoppable club that no one on earth can beat?

A week or so ago I made the statement that "the best team always wins" and was immediately taken to task via emails and comments on the site that this was not the case. I was willing to concede that, indeed, sometimes the better team does get left behind.

But with that said, is there anyone left who wants to argue that the Red Sox are actually the better team than the Yankees?

If so, you may also want to tackle the job of defending Scott Peterson in the murder of his wife Laci.

Meanwhile, once again the Red Sox are in the record books for all the wrong reasons,

Bronson Arroyo and five relievers shared the role of "Firestarter" and surrendered 22 hits, including 13 for extra bases, resulting in the Yankees establishing a record for runs scored in an LCS game in the longest nine-inning game in postseason history, while taking a commanding 3-0 lead in the best-of-seven series (Horrigan, Herald).

And Bob Ryan doesn't mince words:

August seems a long time ago. The Anaheim series seems a long time ago. The idea that the Red Sox accomplished anything good at all this season seems inconceivable. The only thing that resonates now is the idea that, once again, the Red Sox have been beaten by the Yankees, this time in an incredibly undignified manner (Globe).

Last year on October 17th, one day after the 7th game of the ALCS I suggested there's nobility in loosing such a close one, in fighting the good fight with the Yankees. Last year, as Red Sox fans, even in defeat we could hold our heads high.

A year later, I make no such pronouncements. There is no dignity at hand today.