In an attempt to lighten things up a little from yesterday’s post and keep things in perspective I am going to tell you a story about keeping the faith. Also, this story shows that sometimes (most times) in life we must experience the bitter to really appreciate the sweet…
So I’m a New England girl, born and raised, all my family is from the Boston area (hence the spelling of mothahhood-like lobstah, chowdah, and bee-ah), but I’ve lived in LA since ’86. Got married, had some kids, but couldn’t possibly raise them to be anything but Sox fans. Of course, having cried myself to sleep many times, I knew I shouldn’t raise my kids to be Sox fans, but I really couldn’t do anything about it–it’s pretty much in my and my kids’ dna. So, 2003, my son is a crazy big baseball lover and even bigger Sox fan. The Sox have a great year, make it to the post season, actually look like they might beat our arch nemesis to advance, Grady Little leaves Pedro in one pitch too many and it’s history all over again. I was too jaded for tears at this point, but my poor son went to bed in sobbing tears. My heart was broken for him and I was kicking myself for letting him love the Sox. We have many friends here that are Sox fans and for weeks after, we all agreed that raising our kids as fans was bordering on child abuse.
BUT, kids are pretty tough and by the next day my son was over it, telling me the famous words, “we’ll get ’em next year.” Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Anyway, he was eternally optimistic–so much so, that he made his email address redsoxchamps2004@____.com. Mind you, this was still 2003.
Forward to, 2004 mid season, my family is actually back east (we go every summer), the Sox have just traded Nomar, we’re 10 1/2 games out of first and it’s looking bleak. Don’t know why, but I was walking on the beach in Maine with my mom, looked up at her and said, “The Sox are going to win it all this year and you and I are getting tattoos when they do. ” She looked at me like I was crazy, but said, “yeah, sure.” Then, everything starts turning around.
Long story a little shorter, forward again to October 2004, Sox down to the evil ones 3-0 and losing game 4 with Rivera coming in to close. I have already sent my kids to bed–no need to repeat last year (and so many other years as well) because I can’t bear it and I turn the game off. But then I start thinking “what kind of fan am I if I can’t watch them lose.” I go in the bedroom, turn the t.v. on, sound off and then a hit, Dave Roberts in to run. Now keep in mind, we used to go to a lot of Dodger games and Roberts had only been recently traded to the Sox, so I am sitting on the edge of my bed, heart pounding because I know how Roberts can run. Everyone watching and playing knows that Roberts is going to try to take second. No doubt about it, and even so, he does. Then a hit, Roberts scores and game is tied. I watch them tie it up, but really can’t take it anymore so I leave the t.v. on in the bedroom and go in the den. My husband and I each keep going in the bedroom to check the score and the game goes on forever. Anyway, finally, Big Papi closes things out and we CANNOT believe it. I had to wake my son up to tell him. It was then and there that I knew we were going all the way and so did my son. Nonetheless I couldn’t eat for 3 days.
Anyway, I ramble on. You know the rest. I got my tattoo in December 2004 and every day it is much more than a tattoo. It is my reminder that whenever life throws curve balls or “curses” to always keep the faith. I guess the point is that we have a lot to learn from our kids. To this day my kid’s email address is redsoxchamps2004@_______.com.
The silver lining about 2003 for my son was that 2004 was all the sweeter. He tasted the heartbreak of all those that came before him, but he got to experience the redemption. And he will always remember. We celebrated that night like there was no tomorrow.