Happy October 17. 15 freaking years.
View: https://youtu.be/xYxSZJ9GZ-w
View: https://youtu.be/gu-m2CYHW4Y
View: https://youtu.be/xYxSZJ9GZ-w
View: https://youtu.be/gu-m2CYHW4Y
15 years. And every single time that is replayed I'm still nervous his hand isn't on the bag when the tag is applied.I mean, he was safe by like a foot.
No kidding. And before 2004, Roberts would have been called out. Bellhorn’s HR would have been ruled a double. Slappy would have gotten away with it and been called safe.15 years. And every single time that is replayed I'm still nervous his hand isn't on the bag when the tag is applied.
Isn't this the absolute truth. I think of those three plays a lot and how everything had to go just perfectly for the Sox to pull off the comeback. And they did.No kidding. And before 2004, Roberts would have been called out. Bellhorn’s HR would have been ruled a double. Slappy would have gotten away with it and been called safe.
Magical ride. It was, finally, meant to be. But we sure as hell didn’t know it at the time!
I've watched these videos so many times, I wonder where the fans are now. Like the guy at 2:25 in this video. They show him a few times reacting. Where are you my brother? I hope you're well.Great Day, thanks for the reminder
Should've named the dog Ortiz, but we went with Millar instead (Millie) and today is her birthday (she's 2)
edit: I'll put in the whole 9th inning blown save, started by the walk with Millar
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_9KxHOLQ40A
I was trying to convince myself that the Sox merely avoided being swept and the Yankees would win game 5. I figured it was all academic at that point and devoting any more mind share to that series was sure to be a disappointing endeavor.Isn't this the absolute truth. I think of those three plays a lot and how everything had to go just perfectly for the Sox to pull off the comeback. And they did.
I cannot begin to imagine another experience in my life ever matching those four days. I was utterly incapable of functioning at work and spent virtually all of my time posting on this board and searching the Internet for every story I could find. I have never been so totally committed to anything like I was to every second of games 5, 6 and 7. Sat in the exact same spot on the couch for every game. The World Series felt like a glorious fait accompli by comparison.
My grandfather passed in ‘01 like a day before the DBacks took out the Yankees, but I vividly remember his reaction to Manny hitting a ball through Rivera’s legs to win an April game at Fenway in ‘01. He commented that Manny smashed the game winner right through Mariano’s balls.Watching Mueller's drive make Mariano Rivera look like Charlie Brown always brings a smile to my face.
Somehow it's also on YouTube. After the Sox season ended, it came up on my Roku as a possible watch, and I watched it.Note that the whole game video overlaid (underlaid? Alternative audio) by WEEI audio is available through the SoSH FTP (mods let me know if I should remove the link)
http://www.terrisus.com/misc/soshftp/2004_ALCS_Game4_WEEI.mp4
These four days were such a complete and total transformation of a franchise, a fandom, a regional identity, that it hardly seems real we got to experience it as it unfolded. I've said it before, but these games went from bargaining on the least painful way to lose for 3.75 days to a few hours of dealing with the expectation of victory, that flashed to an almost immediate vindication of everything that came in the decades before it.I was trying to convince myself that the Sox merely avoided being swept and the Yankees would win game 5. I figured it was all academic at that point and devoting any more mind share to that series was sure to be a disappointing endeavor.
I was so, so glad to be wrong.
I followed that meat grinder of a game 5 right from the 1st pitch. I lived in Cardinals stronghold Memphis, TN. Their fans were pissed because the NLCS was a 7pm 1st pitch, and it was a tidy 2.5 hour game that was pretty much totally overlapped by the Sox/Yanks 6 hour soul drainer.
That's with the standard Fox audio, though.Somehow it's also on YouTube. After the Sox season ended, it came up on my Roku as a possible watch, and I watched it.
View: https://youtu.be/KO_hQaTezGw
In fact, it's his last great post-season moment.I can't remember ... didn't Dave Roberts do something important?
Coincidentally, Dave O'Brien -- who was still a few years from doing Sox games -- was doing ESPN radio (maybe international?) that often shows up behind videos.Always forget Leiter was with Buck and not McCarver.
Absolutely! That was almost parallel universe stuff. We never got breaks like that in huge spots, much less twice in one game. And, that was before replay was instituted, of course. Cowboy Joe West for Red Sox hall of fame.No kidding. And before 2004, Roberts would have been called out. Bellhorn’s HR would have been ruled a double. Slappy would have gotten away with it and been called safe.
When I die I imagine this sentence will be part of my eulogy. Assuming there is one.I mean, he was safe by like a foot.
I always forget that. I remember that Ortiz's shot happened on the 18th, but I forget about the ninth.Technically the rally happens on the 18th!
Time was definitely measured differently during that Tony Clark at bat. . .When I die I imagine this sentence will be part of my eulogy. Assuming there is one.
I'm pretty sure I aged more in those 4 games than I have in the last 15 years.
Can we please stop talking about that at bat? My sphincter can only tighten so much.Time was definitely measured differently during that Tony Clark at bat. . .
Time stopped during the Ruben Sierra at bat against Wakefield.Time was definitely measured differently during that Tony Clark at bat. . .
I had wondered what that high pitched whine coming from up north was. . .Can we please stop talking about that at bat? My sphincter can only tighten so much.
I didn't completely "give up," but I'm glad the ProJo boards from 2004 aren't around anymore to have a standing record of my posting on things. It looked pretty darn bleak.I gave up on them. I admit it, and had no shame in giving up on them. I watched a ton of games that season, more than ever. When they went down 2-0 in the series, I was down, but had not given up on them. Then 19-8 happened.
How could anything possibly equal it? I defy anyone to come up with a script to the 2004 ALCS more compelling than this:2018 was really special & the other 2 WS were great but nothing comes close to 2004 and never will.
You forgot the Scottish Season (1986).How could anything possibly equal it? I defy anyone to come up with a script to the 2004 ALCS more compelling than this:
The most successful team in the league, with 5 championships in the first 15 years of competition with the National League, sells their star player to a heretofore minor rival that was the 3rd team in NYC. (Ruth)
Watching that team using said player as a catalyst for the remaining 4/5 of the century, and winning 26 championships, forming a sports dynasty with few equivalents (mystique and Aura)
Cheering teams that were good enough to win it all, but sports luck/gods left them by the wayside (1946, 1975, 1978)
Pulling for teams that were good but not good enough to capture lightning in a bottle long enough (1967)
Suffering gut wrenching losses to aforementioned rival that resonated to the present day (1949, 1978)
Sitting less than one year removed from a series loss so painful and debilitating, it's only spoken of in hushed tones to this day (2003)
Having been outmaneuvered for the best player in the game by this rival in an attempt to push them over the top (Slappy)
Going down 2-0 on the road, coming home and losing the most lopsided playoff game in franchise history (19-8)
Entering the bottom of the ninth, down a run, to the best closer of all time, with everything above sitting on their heads
And they win this series.
Time to fire up "Four Days in October" again!
That was what made me feel the worst after game 3 - the sense 2003 was *The Year* and that fool had blown it, that it might take another 86 years to get that close to taking down those MF'ers. It felt so colossally wrong. The dawning realization (for me, after the game 5 win) that 2004 might offer us an even more glorious triumph was akin to seeing the most beautiful sunrise after the worst overnight thunderstorm imaginable.Grady Little had horrifically botched things the year before, clutching defeat from the jaws of victory against these very Yankees at the most crucial moment possible, a rug-pull played on those Sox fans who truly believed the team’s accursed past was simply due to random bad luck. Or bad management. Or personnel failings.
For as much as game 4 turned the tide, game 5 was the more epic game, and the one where we had more chances to lose.I still get sick to my stomach thinking of Varitek catching Wakefield in the 13th in Game 5.
Ok, I could have used this confession around about that same time. I actually missed game 3 (in hindsight, thank the baseball gods - to this day, that's the one game I have not watched on my commemorative DVD set). I was at a conference where I was actually receiving an award. I couldn't follow the game, and was rather impatiently awaiting the opportunity to get the hell out of there and check on the score. By the time I did, it was over. The game, the series, the season, our hopes... again. And I was pretty sure it was my own selfish, unsupportive fault.I once leaned my head on a public restroom wall. Ew. The wool/poly blend of a New Era cap acted as a shield, but still. I had been standing over a urinal in the men’s restroom of the Piccadilly Pub in Franklin, and as the reality of the 19-8 defeat at the hands of the Yankees tumbled over me like so many bricks, I kind of slowly leaned forward and my forehead gently met the wall in front of me. I think it was plaster, not tile, but don’t hold me to that.
This is just not meant to be, I told myself. Probably because of something I did. ...
Honestly. Two 5-hour marathon extra inning elimination games, followed by a game 6 where we're all sitting there praying that our pitcher's foot doesn't fall off.72 hours that will never be eclipsed. Simply not possible.
I don't think anyone was laughing when Pedro came in, the Yankees scored a couple runs, and "who's your daddy" was at fever pitch. I felt immensely better when Bellhorn knocked it off the pole the next inning.Honestly. Two 5-hour marathon extra inning elimination games, followed by a game 6 where we're all sitting there praying that our pitcher's foot doesn't fall off.
I mean, I guess Game 7 was a laugher (kinda), so maybe the whole series only gets a 9.97 on the ultimate drama scorecard...
Correction to my above post, I did watch game 6. Had completely forgotten about the blogger and his bloody hoof.Honestly. Two 5-hour marathon extra inning elimination games, followed by a game 6 where we're all sitting there praying that our pitcher's foot doesn't fall off.
I mean, I guess Game 7 was a laugher (kinda), so maybe the whole series only gets a 9.97 on the ultimate drama scorecard...
Gotta admit, I started to sweat a little bit.I don't think anyone was laughing when Pedro came in, the Yankees scored a couple runs, and "who's your daddy" was at fever pitch. I felt immensely better when Bellhorn knocked it off the pole the next inning.
My feeling, and the statement I made to many, after the humiliating loss in game 3 was "It's not supposed to happen this way. Not THIS year." It just felt so surreal to be losing like that after all year really deep down feeling like this was finally the year (not that I ever said that to anyone...or even admitted it to myself). Heck, later that winter I said to my wife that "I think I felt like we were gonna do it all year?" Her response was simply "I know you did".I once leaned my head on a public restroom wall. Ew. The wool/poly blend of a New Era cap acted as a shield, but still. I had been standing over a urinal in the men’s restroom of the Piccadilly Pub in Franklin, and as the reality of the 19-8 defeat at the hands of the Yankees tumbled over me like so many bricks, I kind of slowly leaned forward and my forehead gently met the wall in front of me. I think it was plaster, not tile, but don’t hold me to that.
This is just not meant to be, I told myself. Probably because of something I did.