We won! Yes, the Red Sox pulled off another unbelievable season going from worst to first and winning it all––The World Series. Three times in ten years––it still hasn’t sunk in.
I’ve been a Sox fan since I was a kid back in the 80’s––back when we were praying for a World Series title. I remember buying baseballs before the game, and then after, waiting out back of the park to chase down Dwight Evans and Bob Stanley for their autographs. On this night, I was at home getting the play by play off of a computer screen. We don’t have cable TV any longer––a decision that my wife and I consciously made to rid ourselves of the reality TV crapola. On this night though, I was itching to watch this game.
I took a walk and ended up at one of my favorite places, Eastern Standard restaurant in the heart of Kenmore Square. I was five-deep off of the long bar watching the game and the revelers. Inside it was controlled chaos––outside it was pandemonium. Police lined the streets and barricaded off the area. Thousands of energetic and excited fans knew, just as we did, that the Red Sox were going to win it and they wanted to be able to tell all of their friends that “I was there. I was in Kenmore Square in 2013 when the Sox won!” Shit was starting to get real! The sox were up by a lot of runs and from a distance I could see the crowd gathering from outside the restaurant windows. The managers began covering all of the windows with paper just in case the crowd got out of hand. In their sister restaurant next door, the Island Creek Oyster Bar, the police made them shut off their TV’s because too many people were gathering outside the restaurants windows to watch.
Once the final out was made, and it was official, the cheering began. The crowds were chanting, “Let’s Go Red Sox”, and on the TV was a memorable picture of Red Sox player and series M.V.P. David Ortiz, a.k.a. Big Papi, with a black motorcycle helmet on lifting up our relief pitcher Koji––a triumphant and memorable moment for the young Japanese pitcher.
There was nothing left for me to see here. I had just witnessed another Boston team win a championship. I made my way up from the restaurant, and walked down the long corridor through the Hotel Commonwealth. People were in the lobby watching the game on the big screen TV that they had installed––one older fan was passed out sleeping on on of the couches. At the front door the hotel’s security team was directing the traffic––“if you have a hotel key, you can come in. No key, no entrance.” People who were trying to get home were looking for a place to use the bathroom. Security did their best to weed out the riffraff and let in the guests. Other guests were trying to get home and wanted to retrieve their cars from the parking lot where they had valeted them prior to the game. With all of the roads barricaded, they would be lucky if they would even be able to get back on the road before 2 or 3 a.m.
Once most of the crowds began to move away from Kenmore, I made a mad dash for it and walked the mile up Beacon street. I passed thousands of college students in the streets dressed in their Halloween costumes, I stepped over dozens of smashed pumpkins, and witnessed too many people peeing in bushes and throwing up for one evening. Fifteen minutes later I finally entered the threshold to my house. My wife was still up because the noise of the car horns, people yelling and helicopters were constant––not sure who could really sleep through that anyways.
As I climbed into bed with thoughts of the Red Sox dancing in my head, I recall my wife saying, “they flipped a car on Boylston street.” Sure they did––Keepin’ it classy Boston. See you at the parade! Boston, you are my home.