I've been a Red Sox fan since 1986. I was in Kenmore Square during Game 6 of the World Series that year, and I've never seen quiet descend on an area as I did that night. Reading about the pain of generations of Sox fans the next few days helped to cement my fandom. I was hooked.
My wife was in India during the 2004 madness, and I was home alone caring for my 2 children, ages 5 and 7. When the Sox went down 3-0, we were all despondent. All I asked for was one more game, and David Ortiz provided those games with heroic feats in Games 4 and 5, and ultimately the lead the Sox would never lose in pivotal Game 7. My daughter fell in love with Papi that fall, and another Sox fan joined the ranks. She's been very loyal ever since, and posted pictures of Papi on her Facebook page as he retired, citing him as a sports hero. HIs exploits as a Red Sox fan have bonded our family through summer nights and fall days. We live in MN, and Ortiz has a special following among Twins fans here, but our family roots for the Red Sox, and David Ortiz is a large reason why. I don't know that I can put a value on a single player's contributions to a fan's experience, but I know that Papi brought our family together during stressful times and joyous times, and helped provide common ground to rally around. To me, that's priceless, and I'll always have a spot in my heart for the man.
In April of 2004, I journeyed back to Boston (I am a Boston University grad, and have friends in the city) to support a friend from MN who qualified for the Boston Marathon. During my stay, I caught a game at Fenway on the Saturday before the race, with the Sox beating the Yankees on a beautiful day. On my way out, I purchased my first ever authentic home Red Sox jersey. I told my friend Deirdre that I would only put a number on the back once the Red Sox won the World Series-the number of the biggest hero of the title. I had visions of handing that jersey down to my children once I got too old, so that they could achieve the feat if the Sox hadn't won it all before my demise. Still, seeing that jersey in the closet that summer gave me hope, and a scant 6 months later, the title was achieved. I actually debated about whose number should be on that jersey-29 and 45 got strong consideration-but settled on Ortiz. That jersey now has patches from every World Series win the Sox have accomplished in my lifetime, as well as the 5 they had won before I was born, and it hangs in the den for easy daily viewing. Seeing that jersey, and the memories that it holds, is a source of unfettered joy and reverie, rare commodities in our short lives.
For the memories, for the great moments, for the championships, for the bond you helped forge among my family, for your charitable work, for the stance you took for the city in 2013, for every accelerated heartbeat you inspired as you stood at the plate, waiting to bring joy to millions watching and hoping:
THANK YOU.