For those of you who may not be baseball people, it was believed that the Red Sox sale of Babe Ruth to the Yankees netted the Sox not only cash, but also a curse that would keep them from winning a World Series ever again. Boston had been a dominant team in the early years of baseball. After their owner's fire sale of players, done to finance his Broadway shows, the Red Sox turned into perennial also-rans. When they finally did make it back to championship caliber play, in the big games, Boston came up short. They didn't just lose. They'd lose in some sort of humiliating fashion.
Half an inning away from winning the World Series in 1986, a ball rolled through Bill Buckner's legs, allowing the winning run to cross the plate. The New York Mets scored three times in that inning, sending the Series to game 7 and an eventual Met championship. Of course, the entire Red Sox team was to blame. Every runner left on base, every pitcher's blown save, every missed opportunity in each of their four losses was somebody's fault. In baseball, it is everybody's fault. But Bill Bucker got the blame for the whole thing. He had to take one for the entire team.
Having my Cardinals lose to the once lowly Red Sox in the World Series twice in 10 years makes me kind of miss the curse. Most of my cursing was saved for my own team in the 2013 edition of the baseball Twilight Zone that suddenly had the Red Sox winning. The Cardinals out hit the damn Sox right up until they got men in scoring position.
Four times the Cardinals have played the Red Sox in the World Series. Two wins a piece. Why the hell did I have to be alive for the Cardinal's losses?
What gets me is, I don't hate the Red Sox. I usually don't anyway. They sit somewhere in the upper middle of my baseball team hierarchy. If they were playing someone else like the Dodgers or the Phillies, or certainly against the Yankees, I'd be rooting for Boston. It is hard to wipe away first impressions. Despite their now 3 World Series victories, I still think of the Sox as losers. And who doesn't root for the losers?
Instead, I'm here frustrated and angry, thinking about this disgusting Boston team, known for their long bearded faces like some backwoods creepy red necks. And not the charming Duck Dynasty rednecks. I'm thinking Deliverance. I just want to go through their locker room with a can of Barbasol and some Schick razors. Or maybe a weed eater. I want to sink their stupid duck boats.
I want a curse!
How glorious would it have been to have David Ortiz bat .700 in a Boston Series loss? Or for the Cardinals, dead in the water, to pop just two or three more hits in the 7th inning of game 6 to turn a sure Boston victory into a stunning loss. AT HOME! Now that would have been a wonderful way to lose! Baseball gods of fate! Why have you forsaken me?
But for now, a curse is too little, too late. I turn on ESPN or the MLB Network and I get Red Sox talk and clips of their victory parade. I'm not ready for that. Fine. You won. Congratulations.
For now, I find solace in the internet. And here I thank Yankee fans, now kindred spirits in our mutual disgust for the American League team in Boston. Those wonderful Yankees fans have put lots of images and video of the Sox past failures for people to enjoy. Players in their Boston uniforms with heads hung. Stunned looks of pain on their faces. Fans crying. And a ball rolling through a first baseman's legs. That makes me feel better. Avenged. And kind of warm and snuggly inside.
Sorry, Billy Buck. You have to take one for the team.
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