For three years, I had Joe Buck's voice stuck in my head, proudly announcing the end of Boston's 86-year title drought.
"Back to Foulke!" he shouted on Oct. 27, 2004, as Edgar Renteria hit a slow roller back to the Busch Stadium mound. "Red Sox fans have longed to hear it - the Boston Red Sox are world champions!"
The lovable losers had done it. After 86 years of close calls, capped off by seven straight second-place finishes behind the hated Yankees, the Red Sox had vanquished their October demons. And it seemed that on some level, most of the nation was rooting alongside Red Sox Nation. It was a feel-good story. As John Kerry put it the next morning, the Red Sox were "America's Team."
It's only been three years, but everything's changed.
This time, October glory felt more than a little different. Something about watching Jonathan Papelbon (two seasons, two All-Star Games) strike out Seth Smith (...who?) didn't exactly scream "Cinderella." I knew it, you knew it, and Joe Buck knew it.
"Game over, series over," he announced. "The Red Sox are world champs again."
Real subtle, Joe.
For those of you who didn't get the reference, Buck's call sounded eerily similar to the radio proclamations spouted by Yankees broadcaster John Sterling in the late '90s. As I watched the Red Sox win their second World Series in four years, I couldn't stop thinking about Sterling's trademark "THEEEEEE YANKEES WIN!" announcements that plagued me for the better part of my pre-teen years.
On Sunday night, Joe Buck implied what all of Red Sox Nation had already been thinking: the Red Sox had become the Yankees.
I'm supposed to be gagging at that very thought. I'm supposed to be deploring the idea that my team has become the real Evil Empire. I'm supposed to use this column to tell Joe Buck and the rest of the world that they're dead wrong.
But they're not. And I think I've come to terms with that.
I have half a mind to say that I don't even hate the Yankees anymore. At this point, I'm feeling more pity than anything else. The Yankees are built around an aging pitching staff, an unhappy superstar and a largely overrated and underperforming supporting cast. The Red Sox are on top of the baseball world.
The irony of the classic "Yankees suck" chant is that really, it's only fun when it isn't true. Hating the 2007 Yankees isn't fun - it's just pointless.
And now that the Red Sox are the new Evil Empire, I'm loving every minute. And I'd like to think that that's because the Red Sox aren't really hated at all. Maybe they're just respected.
The sad truth about the Yankees in their golden age is that I looked up to them. Paulie and Bernie and Tino were classy winners, and I wished I could root for a team like that. Those teams had a perfect mix of veteran leadership and young talent. They had "dynasty" written all over them.
And now, the story's being retold in Boston. Tino, meet Mike Lowell. Mariano, here's Jonathan Papelbon. You had Pettitte, we have Beckett. Jeter? Here's Dustin Pedroia.
The Sox have the makings of a dynasty, the Patriots are 8-0, and the Celtics look poised to win the Eastern Conference. There's never been a better time to be a Royal Rooter.
So, fans from all over, whether you're from Cleveland or Denver, Philly or Phoenix: please, to your heart's content, hate me and everything I root for. It's okay. I know how you really feel.
Evans Clinchy is a junior majoring in English. He can be reached at evans.clinchy@tufts.edu
