It’s happened again. After waiting 86 years, we only had to wait three this go-round.
Tom Werner, on the podium after accepting the championship trophy, put it best. The 2004 World Series was for all the grandfathers and ancestors who have lived and died with the Red Sox without getting anything in return. That championship was for them. This one? For all of us and the children. The children that will grow up in an era of success.
The Red Sox aren’t lovable losers anymore. They are the giants of the game, rapidly eclipsing the New York Yankees as the big bad men with lots of money and lots of success.
I’m not going to apologize for winning. Every single team should have a chance to taste the success the Red Sox have had these last several years. If it wasn’t evident before, it is now: the right owners bought the team.
This year is a story of the owners, of Boy Wonder Theo Epstein, of homegrown stars meshing with big-ticket stars.
2004 was a team of destiny, largely cobbled together by parts of the previous regime. This one? It’s Theo’s team… and despite the enormous payroll, it’s a team of youth, with much more on the way.
I’m not going to lie. This World Series victory pales in comparison to 2004. The circumstances were wildly different. We weren’t considered the “new” Yankees, our payroll had yet to reach epic proportions, it was a team anyone could like and it had a thousand demons whispering in its ear of failed players past. Mike Torrez. Calvin Schiraldi. Bucky Dent. Denny Galehouse. Bill Buckner. Chunk Knoblauch. Enos Slaughter. Roger Clemens. Aaron Boone.
This World Series feels vastly, vastly different. It’s still an absolutely tremendous accomplishment, and it validates all the hours I’ve put into watching and following the team — it validates all of ours. It may pale in comparison to 2004, but make no mistake: when that banner is raised Opening Day next year, Fenway will be loud. Very loud.
We like this era better than the 86 years that preceded it.
The parade is Tuesday. See you all there.