Are You Kidding Me?

I have moments, sudden flashes, where it will hit me what is actually going on, what we are seeing. Other than that, I am moving around like in a dream almost.

The Pedro who pitched last night was the Pedro everyone had been praying would show up. There he was.

Read the first couple of paragraphs of this article. Gives the old girl a lump in the throat, I tell ya. If I saw Curt Schilling on the street, I would attack him. I would throw my arms around his neck. I would kiss his stapled-on foot. I would give him a huge kiss on the lips. I would wash his blood-soaked socks by hand in the sink. I don’t know. I want to do SOMETHING for the guy. I can’t even express the admiration I have for that man.

But Pedro. Man, what a rush. What a rush.

Sports Guy, as always, expresses better than I ever could what is actually going on with all of us right now. Not just about the games and everything, but what is going on with our emotions. Why this is big, why this is different, etc.

Sports Guy references a real tear-jerker of a post: Win It For, which, actually, my good friend Dan sent to me last week. Take a second and scroll through “Win it For”. I dare you to do so without getting choked up. The post itself is a command to “win it for” people like:

Win it for Johnny Pesky, who deserves to wear a Red Sox uniform in the dugout during the 2004 World Series. Mr. Henry, the trophy needs to be presented first of all to him.

And

Win it for Carl Yastrzemski. While his heart still aches today, may a smile break through his personal storm-cloud this evening. His beloved son, Mike, will show us the way. God speed, number eight.

And

Win it for Tony, who taught us all the meaning of courage and grit. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think of you, number 25.

On and on it goes, but it ends with:

Most of all, win it for James Lawrence Kelly, 1913-1986. This one’s for you, Daddy. You always told me that loyalty and perseverance go hand in hand. Thanks for sharing the best part of you with me.

GULP. There are now HUNDREDS of comments to this one post – with everyone saying “win it for my grandfather who dreamt of this day …” “win it for my friend whose dad has Alzheimers … She so wishes her father were aware of what was happening…” “win it for my grandfather who took me to my first game…”

It’s killer.

I say:

Win it for my Uncle Jimmy. My long-haired godfather who was one of the craziest Red Sox fans I have ever met. (Brendan – member the high-speed race up 95 he took you on, in order to get you to Fenway on time?) I can honestly say that not a day goes by when my Uncle Jimmy doesn’t enter my mind … and I can also say that as things happen to me in my life, big things, little things – and also things like this Red Sox series, I think of Uncle Jimmy and wish that he were here to be a crazy part of it.

I went to my first Red Sox game ever with all of my O’Malley uncles and cousins. They were playing the Oakland A’s, and I sat with my new cousin Brenda, Jimmy’s stepdaughter from his new marriage. Brenda and I became good friends during that game. It was a night game. My first time at Fenway. I was very small. We had all clattered down to the stadium on the trolleys, being very loud, very riotous, very O’Malley-ish. There were about 12 kids in tow, and 6 uncles. The stadium lights beamed down, the flag whipped in the air, the Citgo sign gleamed …

Win it for all of my uncles and aunts. Win it for my cousin Brenda. Win it for my cousin Mike. All my cousins.

Win it for my father. Please. Win it for my father.

Win it for my sister Siobhan, my brother Brendan, my sister Jean, her boyfriend Pat … all of them … sitting on the edges of their seats … watching … watching with dawning understanding. Can we be excited yet? Can we give over yet? Win it for Siobhan … who has, on her coffee table, a line of those little Russian dolls – the ones that get smaller and smaller and smaller … only these guys are all famous Red Sox players, past and present. Win it for Siobhan, who also has a “Nomar flip-book” on her coffee table.

Win it for my mother. “Hunkering down” on the couch for the games. Immediately following each game, my cell phone rings – It’s my mother. Calling me to discuss.

But most of all, win it for my Uncle Jimmy. God, I wish he were here.