"But Dave," you say, "won't Red Sox fans like you lose their identity and reason to live if and when the Sox win the World Series this week? Admit it, won't you actually be sad?"
Oh yeah, I'll be miserable. Definitely. I secretly loved losing to the Yankees year after year. I love that the Arizona Diamondbacks have won more titles since the First World War than we have. I love hearing about Babe Ruth and the year 1918 whenever I meet Yankees fans. And I especially adore watching highlights of our infamous defeats. That makes me happy.
Hopefully, next week, I can finally stop hearing about Bill Buckner forever. I can stop explaining that our bullpen blew a two run lead in extra innings in that World Series game and that in any event the Mets were a better team. He was a great first baseman; collected 2,715 hits in his 21-year career. The Sox probably wouldn't have been in the '86 Series at all without his 102 RBIs that year. But I don't care about Bill Buckner. I'm tired of him.
Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up rooting for a team that defines misery and failure? If you aren't a Red Sox fan, maybe you just cannot understand how frustrating this is, but try to imagine. Imagine having to stand on your feet for all of Game 7, sweating and anxious like you're wearing a wire talking to Tony Soprano when the Sox are up by seven. Imagine having to wear lucky articles of clothing and sit in lucky seats. And there are people who believe we like doing this?
Just about every sports fan in our country feels bad for the Red Sox, with the notable exception of Yankee fans, who are sadistic. "Wow," they say, "that must be awful for you, no one loses like you guys." Do you honestly think I like hearing that?
Not to mention the beating received from Yankees fans right up until we gave them a solid kick in the groin on Wednesday night. Far be it from me to gloat. I've had to deal with '1918' chants for most of my life, gritting my teeth and pretending to be deaf. Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch Aaron Boone circle the bases, knowing that I'd be forced to watch the clip a thousand times more as part of montages explaining how my favorite sports team was cursed?
You know what one of the best parts of this victory is for me? Knowing that from now on I'll never have to hear another arrogant condescending Yankee fan smugly assert that "there is no rivalry" or that "we don't care as much as you do." Yeah, let's see them make the argument now, after the total and utter panic that followed our victory in the Bronx in Game 7.
Can you imagine growing up a Yankees fan? Don't give me that "Pride of the Yankees" stuff. Yankees fans learn from an early age to root against the underdog. Think about that. Every great sports film, pretty much every memorable moment in sports history, involves a team or individual beating huge odds to come out on top. To Yankees fans, however, those moments are defeats. Yankees fans should root for Goliath, should root against Rocky and the Bad News Bears. How awful.
You know something? In the history of the Red Sox, through all of our historic and improbable defeats, we never blew a 3-0 series lead against our bitter rivals. Oh, but I forgot, they don't care that it was us, the unshaven, idiot Red Sox that did it. No, that doesn't make it any worse than if it was the Minnesota Twins. Of course not.
I root for the Red Sox because I love Boston and I love baseball. You've heard Boston described as a Red Sox town first and foremost, and it's true. No matter how great the achievements of the Patriots or Celtics, this city remains devoted to our baseball club, even to the frustration of Patriot players.
This city loves baseball. The Red Sox have been around, in one form or another, since the turn of the 20th century. We root for the Sox because they've represented our city for better or worse since then, from their shameful and despicable reluctance to integrate, to their near constant battles with the Yankees.
Indeed, Fenway Park isn't just the oldest standing baseball stadium; it's a national landmark, a Mecca for Americans on par with Cooperstown and Mount Rushmore. It's even better when we're playing the Orioles or the Royals. Games like those will never change. They've never meant anything, and they never really will mean anything.
I never want to hear about the Curse again. Sure, there might be some sentimental attachment after the fact as you look back on eight decades of heartbreak, but nothing we can't handle. I for one will simply be relieved. Maybe the two Chicago teams will finally have to deal with the dubious honor of "longest stretch without a World Series."
For that matter, why has no one decided that there's a "Curse of the Black Sox" upon the White Sox? They haven't won a World Series since 1917, and have only been in the October classic once since the 1919 Black Sox scandal, in 1959. Why hasn't this happened?
Oh, and that rivalry with the Yankees. Don't for a moment think it will be over when the Curse is. After Steinbrenner overpays for Beltran and Pedro this winter, we'll be all set for another divisional battle, followed by a third consecutive ALCS knock down, drag out slugfest. Bring 'em on, again, this time with us chanting "Year-Two-Thousand."
Rooting for the Red Sox won't be joyless if we win this week. Rooting for the Pats has become infinitely more enjoyable since their victories. The only thing missing after the Sox finally win it will be the taunts of haters (New Yorkers) and the pain of Bostonians. And really, put like that, it doesn't sound so bad, does it?
Have we got that clear? Good. Now let's win this.
