A Road Trip To Boston on a Championship Night

At 6:45 we were on our way to Boston. With the Red Sox on the verge of sweeping the Cardinals we spontaneously decided to make a pilgrimage to Boston to witness a scene the city has not seen in 86 years. We had to miss a few classes, but Economics happens every Tuesday and Thursday, being in Boston when the Red Sox win the World Series is a once in a life time opportunity. Driving on the Mass Turnpike we saw that road signs had been changed to flash “Go Sox.” Things were looking good with the Red Sox holding a 3-0 lead when we heard some words we never thought we would: “Derek Lowe has pitched 7 shutout innings and the Red Sox are six outs away from winning the World Series.” As we walked into out friend’s friend’s apartment Edgar Renteria grounded out and the Red Sox were World Champions. The city erupted and began to party like it was 1918. Running up to the quad at Tufts we joined the mass of 500 students in a complete frenzy of celebration. In the most random moment of the night Conor ran into his date from Jr. Prom who he has pretty much have not seen since (The odds on that have to be as long as the Red Sox coming back from 3-0 defect against the Yankees and winning their first world series in 86 years, but I guess its just one of those years). After jumping around for joy and answering the “what the hell are you doing here” question he told her he had to go. We were on our way to bigger and better things: downtown Boston. We ran from Tufts to the nearest T station in the hopes of catching the last inbound train. Every time people from outbound T’s got off the station erupted into pandemonium, with chants of Go Sox and rounds of applause. After a T ride into the city we entered into a party the likes of which had not been seen in Boston since a bunch of guys decided it would be a good idea to throw some tea into Boston Harbor. Cars were in deadlock but no one cared. Drivers were parked all over the street and joined the celebration. Cars overflowing with teens honked and waved Red Sox banners from windows in unrestrained glee.Absolute strangers were embracing and yelling like old friends. A city that two weeks ago had felt as if it had been duped by the greatest heartbreaks in history didn’t know what to do with themselves. As we approached Kenmore Square the number of jubilant celebrants decreased and the number of stern faced policemen increased. The city was under martial law with riot cops filling the streets, threatening pedestrians and firing tear gas canisters into the street. Fleets of policemen cruised by on motorcycles and an army of cops stood shoulder to shoulder across the road, blocking the path to Fenway. Realizing it would be hopeless to try to get any closer to the city’s holy grounds, we decided it was time to turn back, and walked until we caught the first available cab we saw – in Cambridge. After taking the cab back to Tufts we watched ESPN play the highlights of the game and the breakdowns in the Red Sox’s past. It didn’t matter that they were showing the nightmares of the Red Sox past, because in the present we were living the dream that Red Sox nation had dreamt for 86 years, and we were in Boston to witness every moment. We drifted off to sleep with the lullabye of “Go Sox!” ringing sweetly in our ears. Morning came too soon as we awoke before 9 am to begin the long trek back to Colgate. The spectacular night was over, and it was back to the reality of classes, practices, and newspaper assignments. But for one carefree night, none of that mattered as we joined a city in unbridled celebration. 50 years from now we will be able to put our grandkids on our laps and tell them how we were in Boston for one of the greatest nights in the city’s history. We will tell them of the night when a bunch of hometown heroes, a rag-tag collection of bums and baseball players, made history and forever healed the hearts of the Red Sox nation. So unfreeze Ted Williams. Tell Bucky Dent and Aaron Boone they are fading out of our nightmares and into history. Tell Bill Buckner he can finally get a good night’s sleep. Tell George Steinbrenner that payback is a bitch and revenge is oh so sweet. Tell the die hard Red Sox fans in their 80s they can die in peace. Dig up the Bambino and tell him his curse is finally over, because the Red Sox have just won the World Series.