Thursday, October 28, 2004
Photo via Boston.com
And in the end, what will we remember?
Johnny Damon, in the first at-bat of the game, sending a ball soaring through the air, through the stands, and straight into history?
Pedro Martinez in the dugout, dancing to his own private internal music, rotating his arms furiously when his teammates rounded the bases, wrapping people up in enormous hugs as they came down the steps?
Derek Lowe forcing pop fly-out after pop fly-out, his occasional wild pitch soothed away by a mound visit from Varitek?
Trot Nixon peering up at the sky from underneath a rosin-whitened hat, glove coming up to snatch the ball out of midair?
Yabier Molina and Manny Ramirez exchanging pointed words that, had they come from a Yankee mouth, would probably have resulted in a brawl?
Bill Mueller snagging a rocketing line drive out of the air, only to straighten up and promptly blow an enormous, pink bubble?
Seeing video of Jason Varitek as a little kid in the Little League World Championships?
Mark Bellhorn getting intentionally walked?
The guy you're watching the game with suddenly learning that Albert Pujols' last name is pronounced 'Poo holes', thusly causing him to dissolve into helpless laughter for a worryingly long time?
Reloading the game thread on the message board you're half watching, to be greeted by the sight of the Gabe Kapler photo that one of the members has posted?
Keith Foulke milking the last out for all it was worth, cradling the ball after he fielded it and seeming to drift, unsubstantial, towards first?
Doug Mientkiewicz catching the final out toss from Foulke, foot planted on the plate, then leaping upwards as though springs were attached to his shoes?
Bronson Arroyo hurling his lanky frame to the top of the victory pile, hat flying off in the melee, revealing his cornrows to all who care to look?
The light of a hundred cameras glinting, white-gold, off the frosted tips of Kevin Millar's hair?
Curtis Leskanic doing snow angels on the grass of the infield?
Mike Timlin, surrounded by a thick nimbus of media as he hauls the World Series trophy onto the field?
Orlando Cabrera hoisting the trophy into the air, wearing a bright yellow Columbia tshirt?
David Ortiz, balancing the trophy on his head, telling the fans that this is for them, while winking at the camera?
Dave Roberts waving the trophy in the air, screaming, perched incongruously on the broad shoulders of Mike Timlin, while the announcers talk about 'the little guy getting some time with the hardware'?
Curt Schilling hugging the ESPN guy at the end of the interview, as the interviewer says, "I love you"?
Theo Epstein, soaked with champagne, pulling the trophy close to his chest and declaring that 'We can all die happy'?
Terry Francona crying?
Jason Varitek falling to his knees as the enormity of the moment strikes him, Kevin Millar leaning down to hug him?
Yes, this is what we'll remember.
I was screaming and sobbing on Brad's shoulder, emitting strangled gasps about 'history', 'lifetime', and 'love', while he tried to keep me from falling over and kept repeating, in a marvelling tone of voice, "You're shaking. You're actually shaking." I was clinging, partially insensible, to Nate, who held up 4 fingers so that Brad could take a picture. I was sitting down on the bed, blurrily watching the postgame show, while Jun patted my back and proudly displayed his Manny (MVP!) tshirt.
So. Where were you? Where were you when the Red Sox dispelled the Yankees, the Curse, the bitterness, and the baggage? Take this night and wrap it up in tinfoil. Store it away. Keep it fresh and shining and safe. It's something to remember.