the champagne is only sweet if you're the one who gets to drink it

i am going to make a confession to start. i wrote the eulogy for the 07 Red Sox on the afternoon of October 16, when the Sox were down two games to one in the ALCS.

now don't misunderstand me. i wasn't sure that they were going to lose. i just wasn't sure they were going to *win*. so i wrote the first draft, as it came to me. and then they lost their third game that night. maybe if they had won to even up the series, i would have deleted it. but i didn't. i mean, seriously, how many teams can come back from near elimination, down three games to one (or worse!), more than once? and the Sox had already defied the odds, and done it twice. to expect them to pull it off again seemed... less than probable.

so i left it there. and it's still there. because being the kind of superstitious Sox fan that i am (hey! at least i'm not the only one!), i don't dare get rid of it now.

the funny thing is, even after the Sox rallied back behind October victories for Joshy & Schill, i still didn't feel the swagger. we were sending *Matsuzaka* out there, after all, in the loser-goes-home game and... i think his starts should come with complimentary Pepto Bismol & ginger ale.

as i chewed my nails, and pleaded with my television, watching the Indians fight every bit as hard as the Sox for that trip to the World Series, i kept hearing the voice of former Arizona Cardinals coach, Dennis Green, during his press conference after playing the Bears last year: "They are who we thought they were."

and it's true, even now. the Indians *are* who we thought they were: our equal. both in talent & in scrappiness. in desire & in gutsy play. in record, right to the very end, playing in a true elimination game, and competing in every second of it. and even though the final score appears to show otherwise on the surface, that game was so much closer than anyone not actually watching it could possibly fathom. every good pitch made by the Sox was matched by one from the Indians. hits & runs were being traded back & forth like goods at a nineteenth century general store. it seemed no matter how hard the Sox fought, the Indians were right there on our heels.

the Sox nibbled with a run in each of the first three innings... which was never enough despite Matsuzaka's first three innings of shutout pitching. finally turning his back on the fifth inning demons, he secured himself a potential post season win before being swapped out for Jeemer. and it was the first time i felt we'd seen him pitch with his whole repertoire in i don't know how long. that's not to say that the fifth was as pretty an inning as his earlier ones, but when he retreated to the dugout, at least the one-run lead was still in his favor.

it was impossible to rest easy though, knowing the Indians were knocking at the door, and perfectly capable of throwing seven runs up on the board faster than we could warm up relievers to give them up. the momentum shifted back & forth so quickly, it's a wonder RSN wasn't seasick. when JFL botched fielding a ball he'd waved everyone else off of in the top of the seventh, i couldn't help but think "if he just cost us this game..." and then a crazy fair ball hit up the third baseline followed, and the Sox were somehow saved from giving up the tying run because Lofton was inexplicably held at third. when a perfectly executed double play ended the inning without Cleveland scoring a run, i couldn't help but notice that it didn't include the gaping hole that prevents Boston from having a completely perfect infield.

a scorching blast into the Monster for Pedroia, on the heels of an Ellsbury double gave the Sox a little breathing room, but it was another feeling of dread when Jeemer was brought back in the eighth after already pitching two full innings. there was simply no rest for the the battle weary fans in this game. not for me, on my couch. and not for the masses packed into Fenway. when Cheerio Mouth made his first pitch with two on & no one out, being asked for a six-out save, something his shining record had yet to boast, the chanting became noticeably faster, more frantic. a strikeout & an unturned double play later, we were looking at two out, runners at the corners, and suddenly i realized that Papelbon, that the whole team really, was feeding off the intensity, and when Speedy McEllsbury navigated the tricky triangle to catch the third out, the roar was indescribable.

it was all so... electric. the MVP chants when Lowell stepped up to the plate in the home half of the eighth. the shot of Cheerio Mouth in the dugout looking like a wild animal, his hair standing in every direction, as if electrified by the very air around him, or possibly from within, as his eyes flashed. the Bullpen Band, banging away, though i have yet to determine whether it is from nervous energy, superstition at this point, or just showing their own special brand of support -- perhaps all of the above.

and then, something about that air unleashed the bats. it was the very thing i envisioned happening at Jacobs Field in Game Four, when i said: "i want nothing more than to see the boys take the field tonight with fire flashing in their eyes, lightning bolts for bats that leave the sound of thunder echoing in the stunned silence of Jacobs Field as the ball is slapped out of sight, pushing across home plate an obscene number of runners with Boston worn proudly across their chests." only it wasn't a silent Jake, but a frenzied Fenway, and the home-uniformed chests boasted Red Sox. after Manny popped out to second, Lowell hit a double. Drew singled him home. 6-2. Tek bounced one out of the park for a ground rule double on the same sort of screwy error Lugo made. an intentional walk for Ellsbury loaded the bases. Lugo Kd swinging -- which is better than hitting into an inning-ending double play anyway. when Pedroia stepped up, i hoped for a single, or even a walk, but never expected that he would clear the bases with a double. 9-2. Youk brought him home on a moonshot off the Coke bottles. the score would be 11-2 before Papi would suffer his second strikeout of the night. it was cake after that. Ortiz, already in goggles, watching as Coco, who struggled so mightily with the bat, ended the ALCS with his signature defense on the final out.

seeing Papelbon whoop with joy & beckon Tek to the mound where he caught the Captain mid-leap through the air... the deafening crowd... the beaming faces celebrating over the Sox logo cleverly designed on the infield grass... i couldn't help but remember being in the car earlier that morning, and hearing "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey on the radio. i remember wishing that it would be a sign of sorts. because we Sox fans? we believe firmly in things like curses & superstitions & jinxes. there were tense moments when the only thing that kept me sane (moments like JFL's glaring error in the seventh, for example) was holding onto those very same superstitions, remembering that in Cleveland they were already selling World Series t-shirts. and quotes like Ryan Garko's: "The champagne tastes just as good on the road as it does at home." and the one by the Elyria Chronicle-Tribune's Scott Petrak: "This Indians team is better than the Red Sox and will prove it once and for all in cramped Fenway Park. Sure a home field celebration would be nice, but silencing Red Sox Nation in its house will be just as sweet." in the early hours of Monday morning (i was watching the game on DVR since i didn't make it home in time for the first pitch live), i was clinging to the hope that those cocky displays would forebode certain demise for the Tribe, and relieved that they hadn't come from the Sox.

all in all, from fist-pumping to pacing and back again, it was a fantastic ALCS. and the Indians deserve a lot of credit for being every bit the formidable opponent. they deserved to be there, right til the very last out, because they are who we thought they were. so difficult an opponent, that it still hasn't completely sunk in that my boys came back & are going to the World Series. every so often, it hits me again, and i just start smiling.

Sox-Rox. tomorrow night the mayhem begins. and if any two teams have shown us that anything -- **anything** -- is possible, it is the 2007 Boston Red Sox and Colorado Rockies.