“There were definitely some angels up above looking down in the sixth inning.”
~ Johnny Gomes, commenting on his Game 4 home run.
This one was special. This season. This series. This was not “moneyball” or the clever sport of major acquisition where big name stars guarantee a place in the show. We had our stars like Big Papi, our ace in Jon Lester, but both those men and all the Fenway faithful had been shown all too vividly how ugly and empty banker’s balance sheet baseball could be. As ugly as an empty bucket of chicken. The September collapse in ’11, the gruesome spectacle of the entire 2012 season. This year started with something different. No sense of what had been purchased, but rather what had to be earned and achieved. It was about redemption in terms of the past, there was also a present mindedness involved. Each game, each inning, each pitch.
To a man the players talked of it last night when it was all over. Grinding it out. Day in. Day out. This was a lunchpail hardhat kinda team, for all they ended up swimming in champagne.
Also to a man the players talked of the special bond that was forged with this team in April. The city —the nation in shock —bloodied —and those proud defiant angry —and confident— words: “This is our [EXPLETIVE DELETED] city!” —so said the big man himself. Johnny Gomes put it well last night. He said this team didn’t put the city on it’s back. It was at least as much the other way around. We all muttered our expletives, dusted ourselves off, and set about our lives and works as before —knowing our best proved something —most importantly to ourselves. Our team only followed our example.
That’s what has me grinning this morning. This one is special. This one is ours.