No one said it would be easy. I think too many of us have forgotten that recently.
It’s impossible to describe how blessed we are as
And yet, against all odds, it has caused us to get complacent, to get comfortable with victory. People I’ve spoken to, blogs I’ve read, even journalists from major outlets have allowed themselves to seem entitled! My father called me when were up two games to none, LIVID, because Bob Ryan had written a CHB-esque “We’re so much better than these Angels, how did they even get here?” column, and he couldn’t handle it. "Et tu, Bob?" How could he not remember?? Has it been that long since we begged and pleaded for a PLAYOFF appearance? Have we forgotten how truly lucky we are?
This apparently reached its peak during game 3, a game which, from all accounts, featured one of the poorest crowd performances in recent memory. I understand that it was an afternoon game, and that ticket prices were high, so only the worst type of fans could be expected to attend. Yet I can’t believe that Fenway, during a playoff game, would ever NOT rise to the occasion. It’s part of what makes rooting for the Sox so great; knowing that, when you play in our house, we’re gonna make you EARN your hits, EARN your runs. For that not to be the case… I just can’t accept it.
And now here we are, our backs against the wall once again. You can blame the pitching, the hitting, the managing, the fans… shit, blame me for leaving. None of it matters. We’re down 3-1. Again. It’s win or go home. Again. It’s time to put up or shut up. Again. And once again, its time for us to be the fans we really are.
Do the little things. Did you take a shot of whiskey before each game last year? Buy some fucking whiskey. Got a lucky uniform? Put it on. Now. Not tomorrow, not after breakfast… now. Those stupid little superstitions that you never admit to, the hats, the rubber bands, the way you tie your sneakers? Bring them back. THIS is what being a fan is all about. Days like today. You wanna know the day I was proudest to be a Red Sox fan? The day after Boone in 2003. I woke up, depressed and hungover with a swollen jaw, threw that fucking Sox hat on and went to work, DARING anyone to give me shit. Yeah, they lost. I STILL love my fucking team. You don’t “get it?” Fuck you then. I don’t WANT you to. This is why we do it, right here. I’m not ready for this season to end. Are you?
We have to walk the tightrope now. Every pitch matters. We have to rally for DiceK at home tomorrow, and then (hopefully) Beckett and Lester in
Then again... no one said it was gonna be easy.
Keep the Faith.