Ladies and gentleman, it’s official. The best Boston Red Sox team in franchise history has marched their way to the mountaintop and officially hoisted the World Series trophy. The foundation for a dynasty is set and in the hands of young, capable, World Series Champion players, coaches and staff.
I will have more blogs and plenty of content from the celebration Sunday to the duck boats in Boston, but I want to take this time to get serious for a second. This team has sent me on a journey that I never thought it would this season. Coming into the year, I was high on this team. I was elated that John Farrell was on a fast track to somewhere far from Fenway and Alex Cora was coming in. A young, relatable and genuine manager that drew uncanny comparisons to Francona when he first got to Boston. With all my will, I wanted this team to win it all this season. In reality, there is no certainty, especially in baseball. J.D. Martinez could’ve been a dud in Boston. Any of the young studs could have run into a down year. Alex Cora could’ve been too green for a young locker room and failed from inexperience. So many factors could have derailed this team and they overcame every obstacle with grace, finesse and dominance.
Not enough can be said about how special this team really is. There wasn’t a single roadblock that could deter this train from it’s course to the championship. Not the MLB leader in home runs in New York. Not the reigning champs in Houston. And not Red Sox legend Dave Roberts and his group of bombers just one year removed from a World Series appearance. The fucking Incredible Hulk couldn’t budge this group.
I owe some apologies right about now. Although my faith in this team never wavered, my confidence had some bumps and bruises at times. All worries were unwarranted and, in hindsight, shame on me.
I should have never doubted the David Prices, Joe Kellys, Devers, Nunezes and everyone else where I said something disparaging to their ability to push through and overcome. I am sorry. To the entirety of the bullpen, holy shit. I am so fucking sorry. I should have realized that the bullpen with the 6th best ERA in baseball could survive a tough September and be there when it matters. They came through at every moment necessary.
To Alex Cora, I owe no apologizes. I would’ve taken a bullet for the man the minute he walked off that plane in Boston. He had the look, the feel and the confidence of a World Series manager. He also has the pulse of the best locker room in baseball and knows every right string to pull. What I do him is a massive thank you. I can’t say enough how much I bitched and moaned through the last three years with Farell. I hated him with every fiber of my being. So much so, that if you’re reading carefully you’ll notice I’ve spelt his name two different ways now. Don’t care enough to google the guy’s name. Alex Cora was Boston’s savior and the ring leader of what will become the next great dynasty in sports. Baseball is the most difficult sport to do that. The season is too long and grueling to have any certainty. So much can go wrong in 162 games. This team assured it did not.
Now it is time to reap the benefits of that grind of a season. It’s time to pop bottles in Boston again. Flood the streets with duck boats and booze.
As the great Dennis Eckersley says…
Get your shirts, get your goggles and get your loved ones because no one should miss this.
Although I believe this team will be a dynasty and they have all the makings of one, there is no certainty. Enjoy every one like it’s your last. Parade’s on Wednesday, be there or be a Yankee fan.
Stay tuned for all the content from Sunday’s celebration and as the party rolls into the work week.