Friday, October 17, 2008
I don't believe what I just saw.
I cannot believe that game. I just... wow. My voice is GONE. People were leaving in the 6th inning; we moved down to the loge box where my cousins have season tickets because the people who share the box with them left early. I can't even imagine how it would feel to have left that game early.
There have been articles about how complacent Red Sox Nation is getting. How blasé. And there is some truth to that; after all, there were those seats emptying in the 6th inning of a playoff game. You wouldn't have seen that in 2004. Heck, you probably wouldn't have seen that in 2007.
But that 7th inning. I am not sure I can coherently express it. The David Ortiz three-run homer brought people to their feet in a way that would make even the most die-hard 2004-vintage fan proud. The screaming. The stomping. The jumping around and, and, and.... the continued screaming. How could we NOT? It was David Ortiz, our Big Papi, who had been struggling SO HARD, who had been wishing for EXACTLY THIS HIT for SO LONG, with all of us wishing for exactly the same thing right behind him.... and he GOT IT, he got the EXACT HIT he'd been waiting for, and Fenway just exploded.
We were still down 7-4! But from that point on, we did not sit down. We did not stop making noise. The last three Rays pitchers all had names that lent themselves wonderfully to taunting chants: "Baaaaaalllll-foooouuuurrrrr!" "Wheeeeee-lllleeerrrrrrr!" "Hoooowwwww-eeelllllll!" And oh, how we chanted. ESPECIALLY for Balfour and Wheeler, who seemed to actually become more rattled and uncertain as the crowd's volume increased.
There were Rays family members sitting in the section next to my cousin's seats. She was irate because, around the 6th inning, Fenway security came over and was talking to the Rays people about protocol when it came to running onto the field and celebrating, how they could get on there to party with their family members, and so on. "RED SOX security!" my cousin said, outraged. "Can you believe that?"
It did seem unbelievable. Even down by 7... these are the Red Sox! Have we learned nothing? I know that it was something those people had to be told at some point, but AT LEAST wait until the 8th inning, jeez.
Then of course the comeback began. The unbelievable comeback. I really cannot properly express how intense it was. On our feet, screaming and clapping and chanting and hopping and living and dying with every pitch. Practically hyperventilating. I honestly felt like I was going to throw up several times, or pass out, or SOMETHING.
It has been a while since I was last at a Red Sox game where every single moment hung you out on tenterhooks like that, but there was no denying the feeling: it was that good old 2004 feeling, where you WANT every out for every Red Sox pitcher so badly that you almost feel like you're throwing the balls yourself, where you WANT every base for every Red Sox hitter so badly your hands twitch like you're holding a bat.
I'm still obviously pretty verklempt from this game and I'm not being very coherent. But holy cats. Holy freakin' cats, that GAME. This TEAM.
Even if we go on to lose the series, it will not take away from what the team did in this game. It will not take away the fact that the Red Sox looked at the Rays and said: no. Not in Fenway. Not in our house.
Down 7-0, came back to win 8-7.
I don't believe what I just saw.Labels: ALCS, baseball, Devil Rays, Red Sox, win
1:29 AM
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