You mean they beat the Yankees?
That thought finally hit me as the Boston Red Sox plundered past Major League's-best St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series.
Wasn't it supposed to be the Sox bumbling around the bases like Reggie Sanders and Jeff Suppan did in Games 2 and 3 respectively?
Shouldn't it have been the Cardinals getting the close calls, like the one John Mabry suffered when Derek Lowe struck him out in a critical Game 4 at-bat?
Since when did the Sox win important games with four errors and double-digit runners left on base?
Where was The Curse of the Bambino
destined to stop these Sox the same way it has since 1918 -the last time Boston's team won the World Series?
I'm not a fan of either the Sox or the Cards, and while I pulled for the Sox every moment of their destruction of the Evil Empire, my heart felt torn about Boston seeing the other side of that fog that has decimated its fans for so many years.
For baseball fans, this became more than a game, more than a series. It is now a legend to tell grandchildren near fireplaces amidst hot cocoa and marshmallows. I wonder if 20, 30 or 40 years from now people who did not witness this will believe the weight that lifted with the 2004 World Series. Will they understand this meant more than a bit piece in baseball's encyclopedia?
Everything from trading Babe Ruth to Carlton Fisk's 1975 home run that prompted Boston to a Game 6 win only to lose Game 7 to Bill Buckner's dropped ball -does it now disappear?
Baseball lost something last night, though Bud Selig and the ratings might suggest otherwise.
This game, unlike all others, is built upon superstition, folklore and old wives' tales. It's full of Don't touch the baselines Follow the same routine with each at-bat and the mystique of those damn Yankees' pinstripes.
Now the greatest tale has passed as quickly as the Yankees' 3-0 lead in the American League Championship Series. It was a tale that held water since my grandparents were born in that very year, 86 years ago. What's next to go? The rally cap?
The Curse wasn't always something I believed. But watching Aaron Boone crush a game-winning homer to down Boston in the ALCS last year combined with the Alex Rodriguez fiasco/signing made me wonder.
Then perhaps the greatest postseason pitcher ever, Curt Schilling, had trouble throwing in Game 1 of this year's ALCS, and I believed that something beyond mortals had it in for those Bostonians. Schilling had been brought in simply to eliminate this. He had been the reason why fans thought this might be the year.
But then he limped his way through seven dazzling frames in Game 6 of the ALCS and another half dozen during Game 2 of the Series. Lowe, meanwhile, returned from banishment to hero. Suddenly The Curse ended, just like that slow song at a high school dance with the girl you liked.
Of course, there will always be the Cubs. I just hope that dance never ends.
-Eric Pfahler, a 2003-04 Post sports editor, can be reached at ericjpfahler@hotmail.com.
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