I like this piece by Bob Ryan. He literally doesn’t know what to say.
This pretty much sums it up for me:
Of all the conceivable outcomes in last night’s game, the one nobody in New England dared fantasize about was the one we saw. And what we saw was a two-way display of dominance. Johnny Damon pretty much personally took care of the offensive end all by himself with his second-inning grand slam and his fourth-inning two-run shot off Javier Vazquez, while Derek Lowe threw perhaps the most efficient six innings of baseball any Red Sox pitcher has submitted all year, holding the Yankees to one hit and one run while dispatching the hated Yankees in a Tewksburyian 69 pitches.
Yesterday I wrote that I was steeling myself, I still felt bruised from last October, I was protecting myself, etc. etc. I never dared fantasize that the game would turn out to be the kind of game it was. It was beyond thrilling. You just had to shake your head, and throw up your hands, and watch it unfold, as belief and faith grew … solidified … manifested … as it all became real.
Here’s more from Ryan’s great article –
What they did as a group will now be toasted and recounted for decades to come, and it should be. What we just saw was a tribute to 25 athletes and a coaching staff that refused to acknowledge a 100-year history. Baseball teams don’t come back from being down, 3-0, they were told. They didn’t buy into it.
The week of baseball they gave us would have been phenomenal under any circumstances, but when you’re the Red Sox playing the Yankees, it is never a normal circumstance. To come within three outs of being swept in Game 4, to persevere in that extraordinary 14-inning Game 5, to receive the kind of gritty pitching they got from Schilling in Game 6, and then to put everything together in spectacular fashion in Game 7, and to do it all against the Yankees, was an off-the-charts display of class and determination.
One year ago the Red Sox lost a traumatic Game 7 in this very park. It was talked about incessantly. Last Saturday night, the team lost a 19-8 game in Fenway. It was another frustrating chapter in the great Yankee-Red Sox drama. Elimination was imminent. The entire relationship between the Red Sox and their greatest rival seemed fated to remain an endlessly repetitious story in which the dynamics would never change. Call it Groundhog Day. Call it Lucy pulling the football away from Charlie Brown. Call it Sisyphus pushing his rock up the hill. They all apply. Down, 3-0, and having been humiliated in their own park (19 and 22 hits), the Red Sox were regarded as toe-tag material — again.
There was only one place on earth where there was any hope, and that was inside the Red Sox clubhouse.
What happened last night cannot be compared to other sporting events, other moments … actually, this whole past week stands alone in its … Jesus, I’ve lost my vocabulary. I was just going to write: this past week stands alone in its sheer amazing-ness.
Oh well. That’ll have to do.
This week has been nonstop sheer amazing-ness.