In their traditional late July meeting in Fenway Park in Boston, the Yankees are practically running away with the American League East, holding an 8.5 game lead over the struggling Red Sox. At this point in the season, even hope for obtaining the wild card playoff spot - awarded to the team who does not win their division, but finishes with the best overall 2nd place record in the league - was looking bleak. You can't beat the Yankees in the playoffs if you're not there, and they were playing terrible. On this day as a matter of fact, the Red Sox trailed the Yankees 9-4 after 5 innings.
In the top of the 6th, up to the plate came Alex Rodriguez, nicknamed not so originally, A-Rod. A-Rod is an enigma as a player and a person. By far the highest paid athlete in all of baseball ($25 Million a year for 10 years), he's indeed the highest paid athlete of all time - in any sport. He's handsome, intelligent (to a point), probably the most gifted player in the world, but people don't like him. Most are jealous of his money. Many are suspect of his ability to perform under pressure, and his statistics in clutch situations in both the regular season and the playoffs would suggest that he does indeed have an issue with tight situations and low performance thereof. Personally, he always seems to say the wrong thing at the wrong time, irritating not only fans, but his fellow teammates and opposing players as well. Furthermore, he is forever complaining that "nobody likes me", and he sees a sports psychologist on a regular basis to help him "better rationalize the fans and fellow athlete's perspectives".
I can rationalize it for him right now. Get some big hits in big games, prove that you're worth the zillion dollars a week you get paid, and everyone will leave you alone. That'll be $100 for my services A-Rod, leave the payment at the door.
So A-Rod steps up with the 9-4 lead, and the Red Sox pitcher, Bronson Arroyo, promptly hits him with a fastball. Here is what happened then:
- A-Rod stares at Arroyo; Arroyo asks for the ball with a small grin on his face. Why was he laughing? Who knows? Perhaps a reaction to the crowd who clearly enjoyed A-Rod being plunked? Perhaps it was intentional? Who knows, but he had a small grin for sure.
- A-Rod takes offense to this grin and starts yelling F--k you to Arroyo repeatedly.
- Red Sox catcher Jason Veritek starts walking A-Rod down the line to get him to first without him going after the pitcher, proper protocol. The home plate umpire is between them. A-Rod continues yelling at Arroyo. Varitek says something, at which point A-Rod's attention turns to Varitek.
- Clearly visible on the TV, you can read A-Rod's lips inviting Varitek to hit him. "F--k you motherf--ker, come get me". "Come on, punk!"
- And as fast as lightnig, as soon as the word "punk" was uttered and A-Rod gave that little hand gesture....BAM!!!
And theeeeennnnnn..... 
Suddenly, apart from the incredible noise because the Boston crowd was going berserk...apart from the blood being spilled...seriously...this was a real fight, not the usual baseball "fake fight" where no one does anything...but apart from that, something else happened. Something strange and esoteric. Somehow a feeling came out - call it a Karma if you will - a feeling that spread through the stadium and throughout the nation...the Red Sox nation....and anyone who was watching that day. You could sense it, and the feeling was palpable. Tim McCarver, covering the game for FOX Sports called it "Disgusting. The worst game I've ever seen in my life".
Really? The worst game EVER? I think Tim McCarver needs to get out more, or at least lighten up in a big way. In any case, I saw the game as kind of an epiphany of sorts...and the Red Sox players and fans were the recipients of the heavenly guidance.
After a 67 minute long inning, one in which about a half dozen players total for both teams were ejected and later suspended and fined by the league, the Red Sox started coming back. Although they gave up 1 more run and going into the 9th inning they were behind 10-8, they had erased the majority of the five-run deficit, but they were facing the greatest closer in major league baseball history in Mariano Rivera, a man that had only surrendered 4 leads in over 300 chances the last 4 seasons. But karma had entered Fenway Park, and karma is never denied its rightful place. A double, followed by another double closed the gap to 10-9, and Bill Mueller (Pronounced Miller) slammed a pitch over the right field wall, setting off a frenzied celebration in the ballpark that carried on throughout the town for days after that one game.
My son, who had for 13 years not given a rats-ass about baseball, the Red Sox, or sports on TV for that matter (he was and still is an excellent athlete, but at the time he didn't care to watch others play as opposed to him playing himself), told me excitedly "Dad, dad...they were seriously fighting...I mean, for real dad...these guys hate each other". "There was one guy with blood all over his face". In front of my very eyes, I was witnessing the birth of another fan. A fan who by the way started faithfully following every single game, every day, from that point on. All it took was a little taste of the competitiveness between these two teams and these two cities, and he was hooked for life.
8.5 games behind or not, the Red Sox had just found their motivation to salvage the remainder of the season and see just how far this newfound karma could take them.
The game was on...
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