I was at college. Called my dad with 2 outs in the 9th so we could experience it together. One of the best days of my life.
October 27, 2004: Where were you/Best Memory?
- Thread starter RedOctober3829
- Start date
My first child, my son, was a year old and he started crying in his crib sometime in the 7th or 8th inning so I went and got him and bounced him on the end of the bed for the rest of the game (wife was out of the house). Anticipating the final out, I gave him a kiss on the cheek as Foulke stabbed it and Minky caught it.
I also gave him a kiss on the cheek at age 7 as time expired in Game 7 of Bs-Canucks. That time, though, I had to do everything I could to keep him awake.
EDIT: And how could I forget, we repeated the ritual in 2013 at age 10. (If I wasn't so delirious from the Butler pick, I would have done the same thing in February. Damn, opportunity lost.)
I also gave him a kiss on the cheek at age 7 as time expired in Game 7 of Bs-Canucks. That time, though, I had to do everything I could to keep him awake.
EDIT: And how could I forget, we repeated the ritual in 2013 at age 10. (If I wasn't so delirious from the Butler pick, I would have done the same thing in February. Damn, opportunity lost.)
Was watching in Texas while designing the sports cover that night. I had worked it out where I did some design ahead of time and was able to take off and go down to a bar downtown with my wife and 20 or so friends. We had a party, I then went back and finished up designing the page that is framed next to the printer plate in my house today.
I was a junior in college. Watched with my roommates in our apartment. Looking back, it was shockingly chill mainly because I was too nervous to watch with a big group of people. I was the only one who really cared out of the four of us and it was glorious. When it was over, I downed a bottle of shitty $7 champagne and watched postgame for hours. Whole campus was in a fog the next day, it was amazing. One of my classes ended up just being an hour long talk about baseball, the Red Sox and 86 years of watching that not happen (the professor was also a fan). 10/27/04 will always be one of the best memories of my life, I can't do it justice here. Nothing sports related has ever meant so much, and nothing will ever mean so much again. Touchstone moment of my life, without a doubt.
Looking back, wish I had called my Dad and talked to him for the final inning or so. I didn't end up calling him until after the final out. But, we got to watch 07 together and three Pats Super Bowls together.
Looking back, wish I had called my Dad and talked to him for the final inning or so. I didn't end up calling him until after the final out. But, we got to watch 07 together and three Pats Super Bowls together.
Watched game 4 at Whiskey's in Boston with my sister and friends. We also called our Dad with two outs. Flooded onto Boylston street after the final out and just started high-fiving and hugging random people. We stayed out until about 3am and ended up staying at the Ritz Carlton (my sister had been attending a conference there). Was also literally the best night of my life at the time.
In bed watching the game. Woke up my two young sons (9 and 7) who just were too tired to stay up for the whole thing. They came in and watched the 9th inning. We went crazy in the end. Then they went to sleep. I was too wired for that.
Couldn't call my dad because, well, he's a Yankee fan.
Couldn't call my dad because, well, he's a Yankee fan.
Section 372, row 11, seat 6, Busch Gardens (that's me on the right in the attached picture).
My best friend and I had said that we'd go to the Series if the Sox made it while we were adults. We chose game 4 because we knew there'd be one no matter what, we'd see the clincher if it was a sweep in either direction, and it was much cheaper to go to STL than BOS. It was an incredible ending to the most incredible season in Sox history. I'm very fortunate Sox fan.
My best friend and I had said that we'd go to the Series if the Sox made it while we were adults. We chose game 4 because we knew there'd be one no matter what, we'd see the clincher if it was a sweep in either direction, and it was much cheaper to go to STL than BOS. It was an incredible ending to the most incredible season in Sox history. I'm very fortunate Sox fan.
Best memory was my at the time 88 year old grandfather calling me to tell me that he ran outside and rang the bell on his patio because he finally got what he had waited his entire life for. I've always been beyond thankful that he lived long enough to see it.
That summer while at our usual Cape Cod vacation (born in NY, I am a Sox fan due to summers there with only a radio and Ned Martin describing 1975) my Yankee fan wife bought a bag of peanuts that came in a Red Sox package.
Still smarting over 2003 I swore I would never open them until they won and resigned myself to moving them around with me forever.
There they sat in the pantry the morning after 19-8 and I told my son, who was 7 at the time, that just because I was a Sox fan, he didn't have to be. But he said "no Dad, I like the Red Sox." I remember this as clearly as anything - we were both standing at the cabinet the peanuts seemingly mocking us.
A few nights later, we watched a grand slam (he had always wanted to see one) and then he dozed off contentedly, A few nights after that, I woke him up in time to watch the last out, and we opened the peanuts.
They were delicious. He brought the bag to school the next day to share with his pals.
Still smarting over 2003 I swore I would never open them until they won and resigned myself to moving them around with me forever.
There they sat in the pantry the morning after 19-8 and I told my son, who was 7 at the time, that just because I was a Sox fan, he didn't have to be. But he said "no Dad, I like the Red Sox." I remember this as clearly as anything - we were both standing at the cabinet the peanuts seemingly mocking us.
A few nights later, we watched a grand slam (he had always wanted to see one) and then he dozed off contentedly, A few nights after that, I woke him up in time to watch the last out, and we opened the peanuts.
They were delicious. He brought the bag to school the next day to share with his pals.
Alone in front of the TV, on the edge of my seat, leg bouncing wildly, 1.5 year old son asleep in the room behind me. After "Back to Foulke" I jumped up not really sure what to do but also not wanting to wake him so I just sprinted. Out the back door, around the side of the house, leaped over an 8 foot wall that now seems almost impossible and ran. I just ran, arms pumping wildly, tears running down my face, mouth screaming "THEY DID IT". I'm sure my neighbors thought I was a freak but I don't give a crap. It seems silly to a lot of people but it was and still is the Greatest Moment of my Life.
2007 was more subdued due to the fact that my family was relocated to a hotel due to the fires raging through So Cal. This time I woke up my 4 year old but left the 1 year old asleep.
2013 it was me and my then 10 and 7 year old boys standing, watching Koji get ready to pitch the 9th and my 7 year old says "Dad, it's about to get really loud in here."
Awesome memories. Man, do I love baseball.
2007 was more subdued due to the fact that my family was relocated to a hotel due to the fires raging through So Cal. This time I woke up my 4 year old but left the 1 year old asleep.
2013 it was me and my then 10 and 7 year old boys standing, watching Koji get ready to pitch the 9th and my 7 year old says "Dad, it's about to get really loud in here."
Awesome memories. Man, do I love baseball.
Good for you. Must have been incredible. I had tix to game 5...me of little faith, I guess.Poulsonator said:
I watched Game 4 at home with my wife and kids. Having taken that same crew (minus our youngest) to the rather traumatic Game 7 in 2003, it was pretty sweet to be with them all for the ultimate righting of that wrong.
I was working at the Observatory, showing members of the public the eclipsed moon through our telescopes and binoculars. One of my colleagues kindly brought along a radio so that we could listen to snippets of the game every hour.
Was shooting a movie in New Hampshire and our rooms were out of cell phone range. Got in my car to drive into range and call my friends and got pulled over for speeding by a local cop. He asked "Do you know how fast you were going?" I said "Yes, but the Sox just won." He let me go.
In the Boston Beer Works - same place as I watched all 4 WS games. As a Brit, I'd suffered many even more sleepless nights than those of you in the correct timezone throughout the ALCS, and had decided that I had to be in Boston for the series. One expensive flight and a night in Billerica later, I'd managed to locate a place to stay on Beacon Street, maxed out my credit card, and was busy imposing myself of Sox fans in the bars around Fenway. I was adopted by some kind locals throughout, and watched the games as close to Fenway as I could be.
Incredible memories of the outpouring of happiness in the city after the game - high-fiving anyone in sight, being part of the celebrating crowds, and crashing back to my inn knowing that I was going to have priceless memories to take back across the Atlantic. I remember being awake early the next morning, to walk around Fenway, find copies of all the local papers (still safely stored away back here), and to hoover up any merchandise that I could find. My home study still has a collage of press-cuttings from the day, and a framed WS winners shirt. Something to share with future generations, I hope.
Incredible memories of the outpouring of happiness in the city after the game - high-fiving anyone in sight, being part of the celebrating crowds, and crashing back to my inn knowing that I was going to have priceless memories to take back across the Atlantic. I remember being awake early the next morning, to walk around Fenway, find copies of all the local papers (still safely stored away back here), and to hoover up any merchandise that I could find. My home study still has a collage of press-cuttings from the day, and a framed WS winners shirt. Something to share with future generations, I hope.
I had to go to Australia on a long-planned business trip that coincided with games 1 through 4. It never occurred to me when the trip was scheduled that a Red Sox World Series would be an issue - it certainly hadn't been in the past! But at least I knew that the Sox would almost certainly not sweep the series, so I'd be back in plenty of time for games 5, 6 and 7.
I was able to rearrange my departing flights so that I could watch game 1 in the San Francisco airport before getting on the flight to Sydney, but I wasn't sure what would be waiting for me when I got there. Some local Fox cable affiliate was broadcasting the games, but it turned out my hotel did not get that channel. I was able to find a pub on Sydney Harbor that was showing game 2 at about 10:00 in the morning local time, so I was fortunately able to watch the game there (good thing pubs open so early in Australia!). The timing of the game also fit well with the meeting I was attending because I basically missed a speech by some boring economist and a lunch.
Game 3 was a big problem. It corresponded to the time I needed to head for the airport to begin the long journey home. I'd noticed that TVs at the airport when I arrived were showing an NFL game, so I was hopeful I'd be able to see most of the baseball game there before getting on my flight, but that turned out not to be the case. I followed the game on my blackberry, relying mostly on the SoSH game thread. The game finished up just before we were supposed to take off. Good timing.
I was scheduled to get home in plenty of time for game 4. Unfortunately, the plane sat on the tarmac in Sydney for a bit because some winds blowing the wrong way closed a runaway and then the pilot said we needed to head back to the terminal to get more fuel because we had used up our reserves sitting on the ground. How we were flying literally half way around the world with that little extra fuel is beyond me, but the upshot was that I would miss my connection from San Francisco to New York. However, the fallback would still get me on the ground in NY around the time the game started. I figured I'd be able to drive home to Guilford, CT before the end of the game to see it with my kids. It's the World Series, those games always take 4.5 hours to play, right?
The I-95 traffic was surprisingly cooperative, but alas, Derek Lowe mowed down the Cardinals like nothing he'd ever done before. Talk about me being conflicted. I didn't want the Cardinals to win or even to score, but a few extra hits here and there to slow the game down would have been nice. It was not to be. I reached Milford about half way through the 8th inning and had to pull over. I was not listening to the end of this game on the radio! I stopped at the Chili's and watched the ninth inning there with a bunch of deliriously happy strangers. Then I called my kids and then my dad.
Pretty crazy way to experience a World Championship.
I was able to rearrange my departing flights so that I could watch game 1 in the San Francisco airport before getting on the flight to Sydney, but I wasn't sure what would be waiting for me when I got there. Some local Fox cable affiliate was broadcasting the games, but it turned out my hotel did not get that channel. I was able to find a pub on Sydney Harbor that was showing game 2 at about 10:00 in the morning local time, so I was fortunately able to watch the game there (good thing pubs open so early in Australia!). The timing of the game also fit well with the meeting I was attending because I basically missed a speech by some boring economist and a lunch.
Game 3 was a big problem. It corresponded to the time I needed to head for the airport to begin the long journey home. I'd noticed that TVs at the airport when I arrived were showing an NFL game, so I was hopeful I'd be able to see most of the baseball game there before getting on my flight, but that turned out not to be the case. I followed the game on my blackberry, relying mostly on the SoSH game thread. The game finished up just before we were supposed to take off. Good timing.
I was scheduled to get home in plenty of time for game 4. Unfortunately, the plane sat on the tarmac in Sydney for a bit because some winds blowing the wrong way closed a runaway and then the pilot said we needed to head back to the terminal to get more fuel because we had used up our reserves sitting on the ground. How we were flying literally half way around the world with that little extra fuel is beyond me, but the upshot was that I would miss my connection from San Francisco to New York. However, the fallback would still get me on the ground in NY around the time the game started. I figured I'd be able to drive home to Guilford, CT before the end of the game to see it with my kids. It's the World Series, those games always take 4.5 hours to play, right?
The I-95 traffic was surprisingly cooperative, but alas, Derek Lowe mowed down the Cardinals like nothing he'd ever done before. Talk about me being conflicted. I didn't want the Cardinals to win or even to score, but a few extra hits here and there to slow the game down would have been nice. It was not to be. I reached Milford about half way through the 8th inning and had to pull over. I was not listening to the end of this game on the radio! I stopped at the Chili's and watched the ninth inning there with a bunch of deliriously happy strangers. Then I called my kids and then my dad.
Pretty crazy way to experience a World Championship.
At home in my apartment with my fiancé, soon to be wife. We had a bottle of champagne in the fridge, and she wanted me to get it out after the top of the 9th, but I told her to hold off until it was official. I had done that after the top of the 10th in Game 6 in '86, and I didn't want to take any chances being this close. As soon as Doug Mintkiewicz caught the ball I jumped higher than I ever had before or probably will again and then just watched the post game celebration. After a few minutes I tried to pop the champagne bottle, but I was just too excited to do it and had to hand it off to my fiancé.
The best memory was after the popping the champagne when I called my 90 year old Aunt Mary. She was a big, big fan and was calling me about the Sox for years. She picked the phone up during the first ring, and all I said was "How about those Red Sox". She said "How about those Red Sox" and we both started laughing for what seemed like a minute.
The best memory was after the popping the champagne when I called my 90 year old Aunt Mary. She was a big, big fan and was calling me about the Sox for years. She picked the phone up during the first ring, and all I said was "How about those Red Sox". She said "How about those Red Sox" and we both started laughing for what seemed like a minute.
I was at a conference in the Berkshires--a dull conference with only one colleague that I liked in attendance, and she had gotten sick and gone to bed. So I was all alone at the bar at this resort. The measure of the lameness of my former field of employ is that almost nobody was at the bar watching (it was a New England regional conference, so they didn't have the excuse of not being from the area). Maybe some of them were watching in their rooms, but they certainly weren't hanging out as a group. So "stabbed by Foulke" was something I shared with a couple of random strangers and a bartender. It was anticlimactic, and weird.
Booked a plane ticket for the morning of the 27th on the 26th. Arrived in St. Louis with no tickets to the game. Walked the streets around the stadium looking to scalp tickets and posted and trolled craigslist at the same time. Found a season ticket holder who was willing to part with his tickets. Rented a car to go meet him outside the city and do the exchange. Arrived at the ballpark and asked an usher if he could tell us where our seats were. He said "You guys just died and went to Heaven". Indeed we had.
Right about there.
Right about there.
At my parents' house watching with my dad and my best friend. There was a quick burst of shouting, a long quiet bit of allowing it to register and then we went outside to watch the eclipse. The combination of being simultaneously stunned and pumped full of adrenaline is something I've never quite experienced again.
Pacing back and forth in front of my Monster Sony HDTV (my lucky spot) in my Bayridge Brooklyn apartment, on the phone with my new girlfriend, who was watching at her place. It seemed surreal, and my heart skipped when Foulkie kinda
double-clutched before he underhanded to Minky, but then it was over. I immediately called my Dad, a Sox fan since 1939. It didn't seem real.
double-clutched before he underhanded to Minky, but then it was over. I immediately called my Dad, a Sox fan since 1939. It didn't seem real.
I vividly remember the group hugging/jumping that took place within the bar I was in. It was like an extension of the pigpile we were watching on TV. The pigpile lasted through the parade. What a week.
I had a work meeting out in NJ that day and so I didn't get back into NYC until about 8:15p.
My oldest brother was in town for business and I had told him to meet me in the West Village. I knew the Riv would be mobbed -- I had tried to get in there for Game 7 against the Yankees too late even at 8:00p -- so I told him to go to Kettle of Fish (where I had watched the aforementioned Game 7). It too was overflowing by the time we arrived (my brother even tried the old "folded 20" to the bouncer to no avail). So we wandered around looking for something nearby and found Wogie's, a smallish restaurant with a couple TVs and plenty of open seats.
Toward the end of the game, a couple of waitresses from an upscale restaurant across the street came over on their break to watch the final outs (since their place didn't have a TV and they were from Hingham, where my brother's company was based).
My fiancée met us from some work event she had around the 8th inning to enjoy the final celebration.
I can't remember whether it was after the WS clinching game or after the ALCS, but I think it was the WS, but I walked over to the Riv on my way home to witness a huge outpouring of Sox fans celebrating on the streets.
My oldest brother was in town for business and I had told him to meet me in the West Village. I knew the Riv would be mobbed -- I had tried to get in there for Game 7 against the Yankees too late even at 8:00p -- so I told him to go to Kettle of Fish (where I had watched the aforementioned Game 7). It too was overflowing by the time we arrived (my brother even tried the old "folded 20" to the bouncer to no avail). So we wandered around looking for something nearby and found Wogie's, a smallish restaurant with a couple TVs and plenty of open seats.
Toward the end of the game, a couple of waitresses from an upscale restaurant across the street came over on their break to watch the final outs (since their place didn't have a TV and they were from Hingham, where my brother's company was based).
My fiancée met us from some work event she had around the 8th inning to enjoy the final celebration.
I can't remember whether it was after the WS clinching game or after the ALCS, but I think it was the WS, but I walked over to the Riv on my way home to witness a huge outpouring of Sox fans celebrating on the streets.
Went out with some friends to watch Game 3. The problem was that three of the four of us had MFY fan bosses at the time, and were already missing three days of work somewhat unannounced (I left a voicemail on Sunday) and so it would have meant unemployment if we stayed out.
We had just crossed the line from West Virginia into Pennsylvania when the game started. The next hours involved switching between whatever AM stations we could find carrying the game, in my hazy memory one of them was from New Orleans and one was from somewhere in Quebec. When it was apparent that the Sox were going to wrap it up, we looked for an exit with a sign for a bar/restaurant so we could catch then end.
We didn't make it, and ended up pulling over in front of the vacant but still lit up Dorney Park (https://www.dorneypark.com/), getting out of the car, shaking hands, and saying 'well done gentlemen". We got back in the car and shortly after bribed a bartender who was closing a hotel bar nearby to let us watch the postgame while he closed, I think we each "bought a Coke" for $20.
Around 3am we dropped our friend in NYC and drove around for a while with a banner beeping the horn. Made it back to Boston around 7am. I somewhat regret having to leave St Louis, but I made up for it by seeing games 3 and 4 in 2007. I was holding tickets to Games 6 and 7 had they been played in Boston, and I had originally figured the Sox had a habit of Series going 7 games. Had Game 7 extended past midnight I would have seen them win or lose it on my birthday.
We had just crossed the line from West Virginia into Pennsylvania when the game started. The next hours involved switching between whatever AM stations we could find carrying the game, in my hazy memory one of them was from New Orleans and one was from somewhere in Quebec. When it was apparent that the Sox were going to wrap it up, we looked for an exit with a sign for a bar/restaurant so we could catch then end.
We didn't make it, and ended up pulling over in front of the vacant but still lit up Dorney Park (https://www.dorneypark.com/), getting out of the car, shaking hands, and saying 'well done gentlemen". We got back in the car and shortly after bribed a bartender who was closing a hotel bar nearby to let us watch the postgame while he closed, I think we each "bought a Coke" for $20.
Around 3am we dropped our friend in NYC and drove around for a while with a banner beeping the horn. Made it back to Boston around 7am. I somewhat regret having to leave St Louis, but I made up for it by seeing games 3 and 4 in 2007. I was holding tickets to Games 6 and 7 had they been played in Boston, and I had originally figured the Sox had a habit of Series going 7 games. Had Game 7 extended past midnight I would have seen them win or lose it on my birthday.
Picadilly's Pub in Foxboro on 140.
I took out some girl I was really into to watch the game with me. Because the game was relatively low in in-game drama I was able to pay fairly decent attention to her for the first 7 innings. As the ending got closer, and a bit more evident, my attention to her became less and less.
By the time Foulke stabbed the ball, I was completely ignoring her and crying a lot of grown man tears. At some point in the resulting hi-fives, hugs, and shots in the celebration she left without saying good-bye.
I took out some girl I was really into to watch the game with me. Because the game was relatively low in in-game drama I was able to pay fairly decent attention to her for the first 7 innings. As the ending got closer, and a bit more evident, my attention to her became less and less.
By the time Foulke stabbed the ball, I was completely ignoring her and crying a lot of grown man tears. At some point in the resulting hi-fives, hugs, and shots in the celebration she left without saying good-bye.
In my living room with my wife. Our four year old and six month old daughters were sleeping upstairs. "Back to Foulke...", and I fell to the ground and started to cry. For a brief moment my wife thought they'd somehow lost the game. Within seconds my cousin called and we just screamed back and forth on the phone. I watched replays all night long. It was awesome!
The 2004 World Series was as if the powers that be figured we'd been tortured long enough, with the final exam getting through the Yankees, so they made it easy on us. Still, I was at the bank the morning of the 27th and a guy that knew me said "your Red Sox have it made now." I hate 100% statements like that. What the hell, we had just come back on the mighty Yankees, so down 0 - 3 is no longer a death sentence. So, I pulled a reverse Millar and said something like, well, the Cards are really good, Lowe is going tonight and you never know, he may revert back to what he was during the regular season. Then would be Wakefield, who wasn't very good in game 1. Then I noticed that he and a couple of other people were looking at me like I was crazy, so I gave up. Californians, anyway. They don't know.
I talked on the phone after with my dad, who was 94 on Oct. 19, so he made it! Got to see them win the big one once on TV. He became a Sox fan after coming over from Italy as a teenager, whereas some other relatives that came over and settled in NE followed the Yankees because Joe DiMaggio. So, it was a long wait, but Finally.
I talked on the phone after with my dad, who was 94 on Oct. 19, so he made it! Got to see them win the big one once on TV. He became a Sox fan after coming over from Italy as a teenager, whereas some other relatives that came over and settled in NE followed the Yankees because Joe DiMaggio. So, it was a long wait, but Finally.
Watched with friends. After the Red Sox won the game, we went out to the street and set Dan Shaughnessy's book "Curse of the Bambino" on fire and drank champagne. Magical moment.
I was the only Sox fan I knew around here - deep in Phillies territory. But three very good friends from work took me out to a bar that night to watch the game. One of them is a huge Phils fan, and the sort of person who just wants for you what she'd want for herself, so she insisted that I enjoy the game with other people, and not rocking back and forth on my couch in total darkness but for the glow of the TV. They liquored me up quite nicely so that I would;t freak out about doing something differently that night than I had the previous 3. In the 6th inning, my partner, who really does not care at all about baseball, showed up to be there in case they won. And I called my Dad in the bottom of the 9th, sharing some Jamesons with him over the phone in honor of the Sox and of my Grandfather, who drank one or more glasses of the stuff during every Sox game he ever watched...which was a lot.
Man, I love remembering that night.
Man, I love remembering that night.
As a post script, I also watched the Fox post game show and stuck around during the credits before switching to more coverage on NESN. As the Fox credits were about done they showed an old film clip of the Babe Ruth winking at the camera. That was it for me, the curse was really finally over.
I was living in Maine at the time and I drove down to MA with my wife and 5-month old son to watch it at my sister's house with the rest of my extended family. That's what strikes me most about it now, after 11 years and endless remembrances, that I was lucky enough to share that moment with all of my family: my parents, my grandmother, my sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins... plus my son. It was like Game 4 fell on Thanksgiving or something.
Once Foulke to Minky happened, countless hugs were shared and an equal amount of champagne bottles were popped. I kept ducking out to take or make calls to far-flung friends while looking at the red moon from my sister's back porch. My brother-in-law put on a Sox-appropriate music mix (Dirty Water, Sweet Caroline, Shipping Up to Boston, etc) and we all partied the night away. I remember those moments more than the game itself.
Once Foulke to Minky happened, countless hugs were shared and an equal amount of champagne bottles were popped. I kept ducking out to take or make calls to far-flung friends while looking at the red moon from my sister's back porch. My brother-in-law put on a Sox-appropriate music mix (Dirty Water, Sweet Caroline, Shipping Up to Boston, etc) and we all partied the night away. I remember those moments more than the game itself.
Jealous. I went back for the parade, but in hindsight I should've gone to game 4. I had no idea it would be so easy to get in and enjoy. I guess that was a little unknowable more than a day or so in advance. Anyway, I made it to the parade because I figured it'd be Game 6 that night. Worked out fine in the end. But if I could trade I'd have been at game 4.Poulsonator said:
I was on-call at a hospital in San Francisco and the baseball gods saw to it that I wasn't paged once during the final inning. Had the tv on but the sound off in an unused patient's room, on the phone with my brother in Boston who held the phone up to the radio. There was a slight satellite delay on the tv relative to the radio, so I got to listen to Joe Castiglione's famous call first before, moments later, disbelievingly watch how that audio actually corresponded to reality. I then paced around the room about 10,000 times in stunned ecstasy.
In Los Angeles, watching on my couch, alone with then-girlfriend, now-wife, which had worked every game since ALCS Game 4 so I couldn't change anything. Nor did I want to.
In the ninth inning when Pujols led off with a single, I panicked. She asked me why I was panicking. I said, "Because I get it now, how it ends. We were the first team to come back down 0-3 and win a 7-game series, and now we're up 3-0 and here we go, leadoff single, heart of the order, they're going to come back and win this game and win the World Series and it will just be another miserable chapter in this awful book of failure."
She said, "I kind of feel like you're overreacting."
It ended about 30 seconds later.
In the ninth inning when Pujols led off with a single, I panicked. She asked me why I was panicking. I said, "Because I get it now, how it ends. We were the first team to come back down 0-3 and win a 7-game series, and now we're up 3-0 and here we go, leadoff single, heart of the order, they're going to come back and win this game and win the World Series and it will just be another miserable chapter in this awful book of failure."
She said, "I kind of feel like you're overreacting."
It ended about 30 seconds later.
I took days off when I needed, hosted bbq-pissups and had friends around for the first three games. Back then, internet was shit, you couldn't stream anything and seeing a game with your team in it was hard. You had to have the premium sports package on our cable which was over $120 a month, and I didn't have that kind of cash. So friends of mine were used to me begging to use their cable on a saturday morning, coming over with a bag of chips and setting up on their couch while they moved around and showed vague interest in a sport they could see I was into. By the time the World Series hit - and I'd watched every game of the playoffs except the 19-8 loss while I played baseball - people were pretty excited for me. And the first three games were great times, beautiful weather beer and lunchtime barbies.
Then for game 4, I just watched on my own. I knew we were going to win. I think a lot of people did. After that Yanks series, after going up 3-0 I don't think even the Cards thought they were taking this to game 5.
I watched at a friends place while he was at work. After the last out I went outside in the midday sun and sort of just sat there and thought about my grandfather who never saw them win. I also thought about what the hell I was going to do with my life now that, in my early 20's, the thing I'd always said I wanted more than anything had come.
Then for game 4, I just watched on my own. I knew we were going to win. I think a lot of people did. After that Yanks series, after going up 3-0 I don't think even the Cards thought they were taking this to game 5.
I watched at a friends place while he was at work. After the last out I went outside in the midday sun and sort of just sat there and thought about my grandfather who never saw them win. I also thought about what the hell I was going to do with my life now that, in my early 20's, the thing I'd always said I wanted more than anything had come.
That's kind of what some said would happen a lot to Red Sox fans. Now that they'd won it, we wouldn't care that much anymore, that it was the insane longing that made us what we were. They were wrong. I was about as crazy in 07 and 13 as in 04. In 13 after WS game 5, a neighbor said the Sox were in. A bunch of retorts went through my mind as I felt mentally like Sideshow Bob sounds when he steps on the rake, so I mumbled something I don't remember.SydneySox said:
Agreed. I learned quickly that one World Series only made me want more. Lucky that we've now got 2 on top of that and, Mooke willing, more to come.
It was just one of those existensialist early twenties moment.
Also put paid to that hoary old cliche of being careful about getting what you wish for. Getting what I wished for was fucken awesome.
It was just one of those existensialist early twenties moment.
Also put paid to that hoary old cliche of being careful about getting what you wish for. Getting what I wished for was fucken awesome.
In my office at Mt. Stromlo Onservatory in Canberra, Australia. When the last out happened... I quietly walked out in the hallway, raised my arms over my my head, then went back to my desk...
Sitting at a table in the same shitty college dive/sports bar where I'd watched just about every inning of Red Sox playoffs since I've moved back to Portland. I think I even remember the table I was at. My dad stopped by in about the 7th or 8th inning. We hugged and he left shortly afterwards. I had quietly asked my server if they had champagne in the bar, she brought a bottle a few minutes later and asked how many glasses I wanted, I replied "Do I have to use a glass?" she said no, so I walked around the bar handing the bottle to anyone wearing Red Sox gear, and everyone drank directly from the bottle.
Was in upstate New York at home. I couldn't bear to watch so had my husband mute the TV as he watched and I hid in the kitchen. I had the game recording so I could look at the winning moment later if they did it. Dick smiled and casually said, "It's over." I ran and took the TV off mute and cried. My youngest son called from MA and I cried some more. He was 7 in '86 and remembered how upset I was then.
At my sister's house, having watched each game of the series from a different place with different people. And on the phone with my wife who I had told in July when she booked her trip to Kansas City for October 27th "that will be the night of the 4th World Series game", to which she laughed in reply.
She was prepared with the local ESPN radio outlet for when she got in her rental car and got to the hotel in the 8th inning. It was a great night, I think I memorialized it in my sig here.
She was prepared with the local ESPN radio outlet for when she got in her rental car and got to the hotel in the 8th inning. It was a great night, I think I memorialized it in my sig here.
KenTremendous said:
Not so much in the Series, but I distinctly recall watching the TV in the Sports Dept. at the end of the ALCS -- and, with two out in the ninth, calculating out loud that Hideki Matsui would score the game-winning run when the MFY came back. The sports guys looked at me as if I were crazy. But being Oregonians, they had no idea.
The Series was just a quite celebration with my wife on the couch, with sparkling cider and shrimp cocktail. My brother in Florida called, and we talked about our dad -- who had died at Thanksgiving 2013. It seemed anti-climactic after the ALCS comeback and being up 3-0. The only time I remember being worried in the Series was when Manny's exploits in left field let the Cards tie things up in Game 1.
