Sports

‘This year’ brings a whole new feeling to Sox Nation

By Matthew Conyers

Posted on April 04, 2005, at 12:00 a.m.

Every year I have entered the month of April with the same slogan. The same phrase. The same hopeful quote.

Like every member of the illustrious Red Sox Nation, it has become engrained into my vocabulary. It was a fixture of my language. It was my “hasta la vista baby” or my “shaken not stirred.” It was my curse. If you wanted to take a walk in my shoes, all you needed to do was look no further than that little sentence. My life could be summed up in one inspiringly optimistic phrase.

“This is the year.”

It defined me. My life was “The Shawshank Redemption” on rewind. All I did was hope. And hope some more. I thought things had to change. They just had to. Like my team, was I forever suppose to get so close only to fall? I couldn’t be the kid who spent every Friday night alone watching the ending of “Hoosiers” over and over again, right? I had to get the girl at some point, at least I thought. There was never much hope for that, just a fools hope.

Then came that fateful October evening when everything would change forever. It was the moment of reversal. In one fine, crystallizing moment, all my worries and struggles were washed clean. Nothing could hit me like it once could.

Failed Exam. No problem. Flat Tire. Give me a break. Dog dies. Come on, I didn’t even like the mutt in the first place.

The Sox had won the World Series. Things were good. Real good.

My life was like one big Paul Simon muisc video. Instead of walking from place to place, I hopped. No longer did I pick up my telephone mild and muted, I was exuberant, exasperated and most of all happy when that telly rang. And boy did that phone sound off.

Two months after the Sox won, I received call after call, all wishing to discuss one topic: faith rewarded. I would pick up the phone and there waiting was a friend from middle school wishing to congratulate me on the Sox. It was a glorious two months.

Walk anywhere in New England with a Sox hat and you were asking for a free hug. Walk anywhere with a hat and a jersey and you were guaranteed a free trip to first base. No longer were winters bleak and empty in New England. The Northeast had turned into Acapulco.

This was the year.

The alteration had serious implications on the rest of my so-called life. I had built myself around losing. Anticipating the worst. Bracing myself for the storm. And now suddenly and violently I had been yanked from my normal life to an unexplored world.

The world of a champion.

It is a life I and so many other faithful members of Red Sox Nation had never envisioned. I mean we had but we hadn’t. Yes, it was the dream of dreams, but did we actually think it could happen in our lifetime. Probably not.

Like Louis and Clark I was about to head out into uncharted land. Was I ready?

Obviously certain questions arose at the mention of the title: defending champions.

What would it be like knowing good things could happen to the B? Would the annual-collapse in July be as painful? Would the taste of a Fenway Frank change after a 3-0 comeback?

They were all important questions. As Red Sox fans, we savor any chance to revel in our struggles and woes. We swallowed the heartbreaks down with a glass of Sam Adams and a cup of chowder. We wore the blunders and collapses in our weathered caps. It was part of our character. In all honesty us Sox fans loved it.

Not the lovable losers, we were bitter and nasty. We relished it. Sox Nation had been through the wars and we wanted people to know it. Could we still complain? Would people care anymore?

Fast Forward five months. The question still is plaguing us like an old girlfriend from senior year in high school. Do we act like “normal” fans, who are relaxed? My non-nation friends, the few of them, say stay calm. You should have no worries now they tell me. Don’t bother worrying about Schilling’s ankle they say, you just witnessed the best season in baseball history.

I feel almost guilty about stressing over Wade Miller’s shoulder. They are right. We were given a gift from above. The Sox returned from the dead to vanquish their hated enemies in the ALCS. The people who come up with movie trailers couldn’t come up with something this good. I had nothing to be bitter be about, right?

But of course I did. I am a sox fan. Bitter, rabid and passionate are part of our repertoire. I lose that and what do I become? A Yankee fan. And that my friends is a horrible, rancid thing.

“This is the year.”

Again.

This entry was posted on Monday, April 4th, 2005, 12:00 am. You can follow any responses to this article through the RSS feed.