Confessions of a Baseball Fan

2007 American League Championship Series Game 6. Red Sox are down three games to two in the series to the Cleveland Indians. I’m talking shit about J.D. Drew the whole way down route 93 from Colebrook, N.H. to Boston, Mass. He hadn’t been hitting well and I think I have the answer. “Move Ellsbury over and put CoCo in; J.D.’s done- he’s a bum. Schilling’s on the mound and he’s a ground ball pitcher. We’ll be ok. We don’t need Drew’s glove in the outfield tonight.”

As a Red Sox fan I’m just three years removed from the greatest comeback in sports history. The 2004 ALCS was the first seven games series to have a team lose the first three and win the last four. It was against the dreaded New York Yankees and they seemed to have an air tight grip on the series. Game three was a flat-out ass-kicking as we lost nineteen to eight at home. Maybe embarrassing is a better word for it. But, whichever way you want to describe game three has little to no meaning now because of the way we constructed the most epic comeback in all of sports.

It was magical. And that’s the only way I can describe it. Game 4 had the Dave Roberts steal that sparked the comeback. His steal led to a run which forced extra innings. Finally in the bottom of the twelfth David “Big Papi” Ortiz hit a walk off home run. The next game took five hours and forty-nine minutes before it was ended again by a Big Papi walk-off hit. Then we had to go to New York for the infamous bloody sock game. Curt Schilling had decided to pitch through an ankle injury that caused one of his socks to become visibly bloody. He earned the win when Keith Folke saved the game four runs to two. The seventh and final game had Johnny Damon hitting a second inning grand slam in a ten to three game in which the Red Sox never trailed.

After winning four games in a row to come back from a three-games-to-none deficit against the New York Yankees in the 2004 American League Championship Series the Boston Red Sox went on to win their first World Series Championship in eighty-six years against the Colorado Rockies. Eighty...six...years!

They had reversed the curse of the Bambino which started after the Red Sox Organization had sent Babe Ruth to the Yankees for financial compensation that would help pay for Fenway Park. From 1919 to 2003 the Red Sox came close just a handful of times only to be crushed again and again by the curse.

In 1946 Johnny Pesky couldn’t get the ball to home plate quick enough and the Red Sox lost the seventh game of the World Series after leading with two outs in the eighth inning; then there was the Cardiac Kids in 1967 who lost in seven games to the St. Louis Cardinals; in ‘75 we ran into the Big Red Machine and again lost game seven; ‘86 was the Buckner year and even though his costly error occurred in the tenth inning of game six we still lost that game and the next. The curse also showed its malice in ‘78 through Yankees player Bucky “effin” Dent’s memorable home run that sent the Red Sox packing; and again just the year before the comeback when Aaron “effin” Boone hit an extra-inning rocket to left off Tim Wakefield in the seventh game of the 2003 ALCS. Damn Yankees!

In 2007 the Indians had us a little nervous going up as much as three games to one. But it wasn’t anything we hadn’t come back from before. In fact, it didn’t feel right if we weren’t up against it, one way or another. We snatched game five from them before heading back to Boston but we still didn’t feel good about J.D. Drew. We needed to get him out of lineup if we were going to have any chance at completing another epic comeback.

I was working concrete for my Dad’s best friend. I had just graduated college with a Bachelor of Fine Arts and I needed to make some money. I drove from Arizona to New Hampshire in my ‘95 Toyota 4-Runner in just 47 hours. I was hustling- like Mike Lowell running out a ground ball to first base- I was laboring. I barely made it for Brooksie’s 9th Annual 4th of July Party on South Hill.

My dad was able to get me the job working for B&M Concrete. My Supervisor, Robert Allen, had a sister who worked for the City of Boston and sometimes she would get tickets to Red Sox games. I was there when he got the call. We all stopped working to listen to what he was saying. It sounded like he was gonna get some tickets to tomorrow night’s game. As soon as he hung up I was like, “come on man- you gotta let me get one of them tickets.” “What tickets,” he said, as if it was more of an answer than a question. “Dude, come on, how many did she get? Robert, you gotta hook me up dude, I don’t care how much they cost.”

The next day we are talking shit about J.D. Drew the whole way down to Boston. Desperately trying to come up with a plan that would take J.D.’s bat out of the lineup. Besides that, my biggest consideration for the day was which jersey to buy. Manny’s the Man and I loved Big Papi but maybe I should go with Mikey Lowell. Lowell was a hard-worker, he paid attention to detail, he ran out his bases. He was a fundamentalist. Mike Lowell wasn’t a huge name guy but I liked the way he played the game; almost honoring America’s Pastime with every play. I definitely was not going to get a J.D. Drew jersey- he hadn’t had an R.B.I. all series.

When we got to Fenway I found my seat down by Pesky Pole and went to look for the Mike Lowell jersey I wanted to buy. I noticed the Jumbotron out near center showing the lineup. In Right Field batting sixth J.D. Drew. I shook my head in disappointment and felt for the seventy bucks I had in my pocket.

Wearing my new number 25 blue Red Sox jersey I returned to my seat. The game started with Curt Schilling getting the first three outs off the first three batters he faced. Dustin Pedroia led off the bottom of the first inning with an infield single. Kevin Youkilis followed suit. Then Big Papi drew the count full and was walked. Manny Ramírez struck out. My guy number 25 Mikey Lowell was up next. Bases loaded and only one out. Here was his chance for early game heroics and my chance to prove I knew who was going to have a hell of a game.

After all, I decided to get the Mike Lowell shirt not only because of his work ethic and dedication to the game, but because I had had a hunch he was going to play well in a big game. It was the perfect time to shine under the bright lights of friendly Fenway Park. But to my dismay, Fausto Carmona, the Indians pitcher got Mike Lowell to pop out in tension-relieving undramatic fashion. And then... J.D. Drew came to the plate. He wasn’t swinging. The count reached 3 and 1 and the pitcher had to come to him. He was looking for one pitch and one pitch only. Fastball- right down the middle. Swing! J.D. Drew had just crushed a first inning Grand Slam to center field in game 6 of the 2007 ALCS.

Robert and I looked at each other from our seats with smirks that seemed to tell each other, “Ok, he’s good. It’s cool. We can keep him around.” It turns out that I had no idea what I was talking about. And on that day I realized no matter how much of a baseball fan I was I didn’t actually have the answers. I gave up too soon. With one swing of the bat J.D. Drew was forgiven by myself and all of New England for having a poor season and an even worse ALCS. He received a contact worth 70 million dollars that off season. And even though Mike Lowell hit a measly pop up in the same situation he went on to become the 2007 World Series MVP, helping the Red Sox sweep the Colorado Rockies while hitting .400 with one home run, four R.B.I., six runs scored, and a stolen base. I guess my intuition wasn’t all bad.