Out of the Ashes Part IV (A sign in the stands, a really fast guy, and Papi)

David Ortiz, quoted in the Boston Globe, Sports Illustrated, and numerous other places in the months following the Yankees/Red Sox series, said he was walking the streets of downtown Boston in the early morning hours of October 17th, after showering and leaving the Fenway Park locker room following the 19-8 thrashing the Sox had taken less than an hour before. As he was walking down the street a woman walking his way recognized him and burst into tears. He stopped and watched as she walked by sobbing, not wanting to meet his gaze. Above him on the street was a billboard with a photo of teammate and best friend Manny Ramirez on it, and the billboard said "KEEP THE FAITH".

Suddenly it hit him. The woman crying, the billboard, the passion that 37,000 screaming Sox fans bring to the stadium every game. Big Papi had an epiphany. This was bigger than him, bigger than any of the competitors. The hopes and dreams of millions were on the line here, along with the sanity of the same, and Mr. Ortiz knew they had placed those hopes squarely in his charge. The crying passerby confirmed that fact in no uncertain terms. Later that evening, as the Red Sox prepared for game 4 in their locker room, Ortiz spoke to the players about his experience. He let them know how important they all were, and he stated in no-uncertain-terms the Red Sox had an obligation to "turn that woman's tears into a smile".

In the beginning of the game, FOX sports showed a Boston fan with a sign, inspired by the old "Peanuts" cartoon where Lucy would always pull the football away as Charlie Brown approached. The sign said, I CAN'T BELIEVE I FELL FOR IT AGAIN. Yeah, and neither could I.

As the game moved to the bottom of the 9th inning, the Yankees led 4-3, and Mariano Rivera had entered the game to pound the final nail into the Red Sox coffin. The game had been the best played so far, with tremendous catches and clutch hitting ruling the play. In spite of the quality of the play, I thought long and hard about it, and pulling the covers up...I decided to turn off the TV in my room. About 20 seconds later, I turned it back on...then turned it off...then turned it on again.

My wife, half awake and half asleep, told me to make up my mind. I chose to leave it on, resigned to another bout of clinical depression. Without question, Rivera was the greatest closer in the history of baseball, especially under pressure...but with the fight game back in July where he surrendered 2 runs, to include the game ending shot off of Bill Meuller, there was always the slim chance the Red Sox could catch lightning in a bottle a second time.

Wait. What the hell was I thinking? That wasn't going to happen. Click...off with the TV. Click...back on again.

Was Rivera looking nervous up there? He had thrown 3 rather poor looking balls to Kevin Millar of the Sox, and he looked a bit out of sorts. Rivera never chokes, and rarely looks rattled...but for some reason the slightest hint of worry was etched on his face.

Ball four. Millar walked and was immediately substituted for a speedy runner by the name of Dave Roberts. As Roberts left the dugout to take Millar's place at first base, Red Sox manager Terry Francona winked at him, a gesture that said "You know what we need here, and you have my blessing to try it". By the way, the TV was staying on at this point.

Roberts took his lead at first, and everyone of the 50 million people watching on TV, the 37,000 assembled in Fenway, and the players on both teams knew what was going to happen next. The batter at the plate was Bill Mueller, the guy that had hit the bomb off of Rivera back in July. Rivera looked uncomfortable. Dave Roberts' mission was to steal second base and get himself into scoring position. Rivera's job was to make sure between he and catcher Jorge Posada that did not happen...but the concern on his face was still there, and I thought for a second I even detected an increase in his anxiety. Roberts took his lead, Rivera wound up....and threw to first, forcing Roberts into a diving retreat. Again, Roberts took his lead, and again Rivera threw over. As he wound up for the third time, Roberts could be seen on the camera angle wiggling his fingers in anticipation. Rivera threw home....and Roberts blasted towards second base. A perfect throw from catcher Posada followed, shortstop Derek Jeter was in perfect position to take the throw, and Roberts hand just did slide into the base a flash of a second before the gloved tag of Jeter.





The ballpark erupted in noise, hope was still alive, and I was now sitting up in my bed, trying to keep it all in perspective. We were still behind, it was still Mariano Rivera...but there was a sliver of hope. With the count 1 ball and 1 strike, Bill Mueller ripped the next pitch up the middle and past the sprawling Rivera who tried to make a miracle catch...Roberts came racing around third and slid into hame plate...the game was tied, and the place was shaking with the noise.

The night wore on into morning, and the game stayed tied at 4. In the bottom of the 12th inning, well past 1 am, Yankee pitcher Paul Quantrill - a former Red Sock - was on the mound. With a man on and no one out, our man David Ortiz came up to the plate, and in his best turn that woman's tears into a smile routine, promptly hit a massive shot into the right field bull-pen, setting of an explosion of sound in the stadium, and prompting one of the greatest TV calls by an announcer I've ever heard.

At the crack of the bat, announcer Joe Buck said, "Ortiz lifts it towards right - Sheffield back - and we'll see you later tonight", a reference to the fact that it was around 1:30 am and the now-necessary game 5 was only hours away. Instead of saying home-run or something like that, Buck had grasped the moment and its impact on history. He knew these teams were so evenly matched that even the slightest bobble or failure to close the deal could be disastrous to either side, and the Yankees had blinked first...at least this night/morning they had.

God had at least slightly loosened his foothold on our necks, or so we thought. He had done this before, only to dash our hopes in cruel and unusual ways later.

Maybe though...just maybe.