It seems as though my friend Brady will be receiving a lot of things quite soon, for hell has frozen over.
With the recent win of the Boston Red Sox in the World Series, something that no one thought was possible until Satan had been skiing in the mountains of the Underworld, it seems as though this abusive love-hate relationship has come to a close.
Loving the Red Sox is a lot like loving an abusive boyfriend. Of course, it doesn’t come with the actual physical harm (unless you count the minor injuries resulting from numerous kicks to the television), however it comes with all of the emotional baggage and breakdowns. Every spring, we have renewed hope that this year will be THE year. We watch our favorite players begin to warm up and we wonder why Johnny Damon hasn’t shaved yet. During the early games of the season, our hearts swell with pride as we watch our relationship strengthen and we watch our team win. April, May, and June come to a close, and almost every year, we laugh as we celebrate the high ranking that we’ve earned.
Then the All-Star Break comes along.
July, August, and September bring nothing but broken televisions, broken feet, and broken hearts. And USUALLY, by the beginning of October, weare ready to accept defeat once agian. We have conditioned ourselves to that last blow to end the season…that last loss to end our three months of misery. And that’s the last straw for this boyfriend. Yet this one knows that we’ll alwyas come back for more. We’ll get back on the emotional rollercoaster and we will hold tight till the end.
Or, that was up until this past October.
I have always had faith in my team. However, I had no idea they were going to do this well. I Lofted through the beginning of the season, occasionally watching games with some friends until school was over, until my life was again consumed with work. I was ready for disappointment again, until I watched the games after the All-Star Break. I was shocked. The Sox had maintained their steam, and when August rolled around, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Yes sir, we contenders in the Wild Card race once again. By October, I was beside myself. It was no doubt that the Yankees would be going, but those heart-wrenching games when the Sox were up against Anaheim, I was a bit more nervous. Then, the series to end all series. Yes, we all thought it was going to be a repeat of last year, when the Yankees beat the Red Sox in the ALCS. The first three games made it seem lik it was going to be WORSE than last year.
And then, the Yankees suffered the biggest upset in the history of sports. They choked. Hard. On a Red Sock. And we went to the Wooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrlllllllllllllddddddddddd Seeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrriiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeessssssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
And we beat those birds. We hung them out to dry. It was the most amazing time in the world to be a Red Sox fan.
And even though we are still in a state of disbelief, we are still recovering from the shock that has resulted from the end of the curse, we are lookign to the future. And that future is completely ambiguous. We have achieved the only thing that we have always wanted. But now what? Everything we have conditioned ourselves for, everything that we have become used to for the past 86 years, is completely null and void now, since the Sox won. What do we do now?
For the longest time, we were the supporters of the Sisyphus of the sporting world. Now that he has pushed his rock to the top of the hill unopposed, what are the spectators going to watch? Oh sure that rock rolled back down to the bottom, but we know that he can get it to the top. What are we going to do, now that it is no longer that forbidden fruit? Not that I don’t enjoy that we beat the Yankees. I relish in it. It’s almost better than winning the World Series. The Yankees lost HARD to their long-time rivals. And then they went on to win the World Series in a shutout. But now that it’s been done, where do I go from here. I am screaming for direction in my life.
Maybe I should just enjoy the taste of that fruit for now. And maybe I”ll be eating humble pie at this time next year.
Or maybe not.