Saying Goodbye to THIS Year
Not surprisingly, my favorite moment of this year really isn't a moment, but a whole blur of time that can best be known as October 2004, the month the Red Sox won the World Series and beat the New York Yankees to do it. The moment begins late on a cold October night, when Fenway Park was full of non-believers and Patriots fans, when even the tight security at the Green Monster had let it go for the night, allowing any fan to come to the top of the Fenway world for what they believed would be the final inning of the 2004 season, a disappointment. But suddenly, the end really became the beginning, as the Red Sox rallied from down one run, three outs away, and came back to win it all. My favorite moment of the year began when Kevin Millar came out to bat in the bottom of the ninth that Sunday night, the fourth game of the ALCS, and it continued to the fourth game of the World Series, after Keith Foulke softhanded the last toss of the 2004 season to Doug Mientkiewicz. October 2004. Holy shit. Holy shit.
That's the basic idea. There was some ludicrous article written by The Grinch (Dan Shaughnessy) who ordered that at midnight, when the year changes and October 2004 becomes last year, that fans would have to accept that the win has become history. Whatever. I don't care. I'm still going to love every time I think about the extremes of October 2004 (I seriously think I spent more time in bars than in my bed) and the marathon games and ridiculous superstitions (Vicky and I had a serious ten minute conversation about whether changing Red Sox shirts would ruin their chances to win a game - no joke). Tomorrow won't change that. I hope forever won't change that.
I guess in the end, I hope that everyone has a similar memory from 2004. I really hope that all of the people who I think are great can think of something that happened in 2004 that makes them as happy as the Red Sox October 2004 has made me. And, perhaps most importantly, as 2005 arrives in the next few hours, I hope that next year, I'll be able to say the same thing - Red Sox and all. So that's it. I hope the same thing for everyone I really like. Maybe even those I don't like so much.
Except, of course, for the Yankees. And their fans.
That's the basic idea. There was some ludicrous article written by The Grinch (Dan Shaughnessy) who ordered that at midnight, when the year changes and October 2004 becomes last year, that fans would have to accept that the win has become history. Whatever. I don't care. I'm still going to love every time I think about the extremes of October 2004 (I seriously think I spent more time in bars than in my bed) and the marathon games and ridiculous superstitions (Vicky and I had a serious ten minute conversation about whether changing Red Sox shirts would ruin their chances to win a game - no joke). Tomorrow won't change that. I hope forever won't change that.
I guess in the end, I hope that everyone has a similar memory from 2004. I really hope that all of the people who I think are great can think of something that happened in 2004 that makes them as happy as the Red Sox October 2004 has made me. And, perhaps most importantly, as 2005 arrives in the next few hours, I hope that next year, I'll be able to say the same thing - Red Sox and all. So that's it. I hope the same thing for everyone I really like. Maybe even those I don't like so much.
Except, of course, for the Yankees. And their fans.
<< Home