Did that really happen?

Last night I went out with Matt and Troy to the scene of last year's crime to excorcise our Game 7 demons. Then a funny thing happened, the Red Sox actually won. When Ortiz (who was an absolute steal to get signed before the off season) hit his 2-run bomb in the first, we were still very tentative. Damon had been thrown out at home, it should be 3-0, this was going to come back and bite us. Then the sox load the bases in the 2nd and Damon comes up and cranks the first pitch he sees out of the yard. We were now up 6-0, but I had never been as nervous during the whole series.

We kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never came. We had a scare when Pedro came in for the 7th and promptly got rocked for 2 runs, re-energizing a completely apathetic Yankee Stadium crowd**. But then Timlin and Embree combined for two shutout innings. The game was over. The Red Sox had done the completely unthinkable, losing the first 3 games the way they did, being 3 outs away from being swept and somehow putting together a streak that will go down in the record books. There was screaming, slapping of hands, hugs, and just a general revelery all around us.

We went over to Kenmore after the game, and we weren't the only ones. After the completely full train emptied at the station, we were faced with a locked gate. Someone was smart enough to unlock it, however, before some tried to rip the thing down. The area was a absolute sea of people. There were people climbing trees, buildings, anything they could find. For the most part the cops were just watching, making sure it didn't turn to violent. We decided that it was probably a good idea not to stick around, so we headed to one of Matt's friend's place to hit the head and then catch a cab home.

This morning I'm still in a daze, and the words of Bill Simmons have never rung more true:

You have to be from here to understand. You just do. It wasn't just that the Yankees always win. It was everything else that came with it -- the petty barbs, the condescending remarks, the general sense of superiority from a fan base that derives a disproportionate amount of self-esteem from the success of their baseball team. I didn't care that they kept winning as much as they were a-holes about it. Not all of them. Most of them. In 96 hours, everything was erased. Everything. It was like pressing the re-start button on a video game.

** We tried to figure out the argument for putting Pedro in there, it was only this morning that a co-worker pointed out the fact that:
1. Schilling has to pitch game 2 of the World Series. There's no way he could pitch on Saturday and having him pitch game 3 means he had to bat, which no one wants.
2. You want to have Wakefield pitch at Fenway. Wakefield has been prone to giving up first inning runs and we'll have a much better chance of being able to compensate with the DH.
3. Pedro does have experience hitting from his time in the NL. Granted it was some years ago, but it's something.
So when you add all that up, that means Pedro's not going to pitch until Game 3 in Houston or St. Louis on about a week's rest. So putting him in for an inning in a game that was pretty comfortably in control was a good way to keep him active.

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