I don’t believe in decades-old curses that were magically discovered by sportswriters in 1986 and whose most popular versions get most of the facts wrong. I don’t believe in jinxes either. Hell, I’m not even a real Red Sox fan--1986 was a very good year for me. I can still recite most of the Mets’ roster and hum most of the soundtrack of the commemorative video upon request.
So why am I still so worried about the Boston Red Sox’ fate? Why did part of me hope they would lose game three, because if they won they’d be perfectly set up to have the Cardinals do to them what they did to the Yankees last week?
Here are two illustrations of why:
Email exchange with my sister before the Red Sox Yankees series:
MY SISTER: “I want the Red Sox to win, but I feel like if they win Kerry will lose. Two things I wanted that badly couldn’t possibly both happen."
ME: "Don’t be silly. You said the same thing about the Mets and Gore in 2000, and you know what happened then."
MY SISTER: "I never doubted that two bad things could happen."
Scene from the Seinfeld episode, “The Pilot”:
GEORGE: Yeah, that's exactly what I'm worried about. God would never let me be successful. He'd kill me first. He'd never let me be happy.
THERAPIST: I thought you didn't believe in God?
GEORGE: I do for the bad things.
I’m a little superstitious, more than a little neurotic, but mainly I’m a pessimist. The glass is half empty, and the good guys almost always lose.
And there’s no question that this year’s Red Sox are the good guys. For God’s sake, I like their owners. I like their GM a whole lot. I like their manager.
And the players—look, the hair worked for a while, but guys, you’re not fooling anyone anymore. If the 1986 New York Mets were a gang of juvenile delinquents, the 2004 Red Sox are a goofy uncle who’s decided to grow a pony tail. Even leaving aside Curt Schilling, who is in slight danger of being raptured during game six if he keeps this up. …Manny Ramirez became a U.S. citizen in May. He gets hitting advice from his Little League coach, who stayed with him at his hotel room in New York. Watching the dugout, it is actually possible that Larry Lucchino was correct when he said breathlessly that David Ortiz “leads the league in hugs”. Bronson Arroyo offered to donate his kidney to his father several years back, though it would have cost him a summer of trying to reach the majors. Those nice Jewish boys Gabe Kapler and Kevin Youkilis struggled for several days about whether to be available off the bench on Yom Kippur. Idiot Johnny “Keyrock of Nazareth” Damon shaved his beloved beard for a donation to the Boston Public Library’s literacy program—though he promptly grew it back; presumably Gilette won’t fall for this trick again. They all voted to give Nomar Garciaparra a full share of the playoff bonuses. And—this is the one that really kills off the rebel image for me once and for all—Kevin Millar’s favorite musician is Phil Collins.
And they really seem to mean it about picking each other up, really seem to like each other, really seem to like playing the game, have already pulled off the best comeback in baseball history—and it was the BOSTON RED SOX, against the NEW YORK YANKEES.
So there’s clearly a good chance they’re doomed. If it can happen to the NEW YORK YANKEES with a lead and Rivera on the mound in the 9th, it can happen to the BOSTON RED SOX with two banged up aces, three other guys who can be great or awful depending on the day and mood, and some very tired relievers. Lowe has a good postseason record, but his regular season E.R.A. is over 5, and reports of his “mental gidget”-hood are exaggerated but have plenty of basis in reality. Tim Wakefield’s knuckleball might not knuckle any more in Game 5 than in Game 1, and the Cardinals have faced him once already. And my God, those consecutive walks at the end of his last outing. Curt Schilling cannot possibly have a third good game in him. Tendons are there for a reason, stitches take their toll, especially on deep tissue, and even if the doctor wasn’t getting nervous, stuff like that only happens in after school specials. So Arroyo has to be ready out of the bullpen for games 4 and 5 and might have to start game 6, and his arm’s not made of rubber--nor is Keith Foulke’s, by the way. At some point the Cardinal’s offense will show up, and its baserunners won’t keep beating themselves, but the Boston defense just might. And even a mediocre Cardinal starter can pitch a gem on a given day (see Bobby J. Jones’ 2000 complete game 1 hitter against the San Francisco Giants), and….
But even I can only carry my pessimism so far. Red Sox in 7.
This is an apolitical open thread.
Just so it goes 7.
And it must, because the Cardinals haven't won anything yet. Then, if they only win three, we go 9. Maybe 11. It's like ... oh, nevermind.
Anything to keep the chill-air-of-no-baseball-until- Spring away from me.
Posted by: John Thullen | October 27, 2004 at 01:34 PM
Who's going to watch the lunar eclipse tonight?
Posted by: Jesurgislac | October 27, 2004 at 03:17 PM
Every sportswriter looking for a schmaltzy angle about the planets aligning or the moon itself turning red.
Sportswriters aside, I like eclipses, comets, meteor showers, etc. Boston's very cloudy right now though.
Posted by: Katherine | October 27, 2004 at 03:20 PM
I've been more or less pulling for the Red Sox out of sympathy, but now I'm torn -- getting swept in the last 4 would be such a mind-blowing way for them to lose (especially when you throw in the fact that it would require the Cards to win 2 in a row on the road) that part of me wants to see it happen just because. I think it'd really creep everyone out, as it would prove beyond a reasonable doubt the existence of some supernatural sox-hating force in the universe.
Posted by: kenB | October 27, 2004 at 03:28 PM