The Red Sox had given away the 2003 ALCS to the Yankees in one of those terrible collapses they were known for. This year they had been down zero games to three when it was the Yankees who had the greatest choke of all time, surpassing even the many Boston versions.
Derek Lowe pitching on two days rest. It lacked drama, and most fans remember the world series instead (Pitchers Tim Wakefield, Curt Schilling, Pedro Martinez, and again Derek Lowe for the final win.) Until the middle of game four, which I watched at Granite Dad's apartment, I was sure the Red Sox were going to find some way to throw it all away again. After all, they had throughout my life, and even before. They killed our fathers and our grandfathers, and now the sonsabitches are coming after us! But Derek Lowe was amazing, and even I dared hope.
My father had died the year before, and my mother three years before that.
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The Sox were down three games to none. They were getting slaughtered, and I was pretty glum. But my ten-year old daughter said "It's the best four out of seven, right? They could still win it!" I shook my head at the naivete of my poor innocent child. "That has never happened before", I told her. She ignored me and my cynicism. "They are going to win it. I just know it", she insisted. And when they did, the look of satisfaction on her face was priceless. David Ortiz, Derek Lowe, Curt Schilling, Pedro Martinez, Dave Roberts, and all the rest; a week that will never be forgotten.
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