I'll be honest - my first reaction when we signed him was "Jeez, how many damn first baseman/dh's do they need"? Now I can't believe I won't be checking to make sure he's not due up every time I leave the room during a Red Sox game - you never want to miss one of Papi's at bats because anything can happen. The man has, of course, hit some of the biggest home runs in Red Sox/baseball history, but to me, none was bigger than the one I listed as the 3rd greatest personal moment I ever witnessed at Fenway, when he hit one out to win a routine July regular season game against the A's, which just happened to be the first one I ever brought my son to.
In honor of the greatest clutch hitter I've ever seen I'll post that list again and say that I can't wait to see him come to the plate every time this year because I know how much he'll be missed.
Thanks big man, clap and point.
(See number 3 for my favorite Big Papi in person moment)
- 1. July 26, 1997 - Mo Mentous – Look, I was never going to be the guy who goes out to a strip club for his bachelor party. It was either going to be golf, deep sea fishing or a baseball game - and well, anybody who was betting on it would've gone with the ballgame. And so we made our way to Fenway about a month in advance of my wedding (Margaret and I were married in Ireland on August 22nd - Yaz's birthday - serendipitous coincidence). I had guaranteed some of my cousins a Red Sox win, and the day had played out perfectly as we all hung out in the center field bleachers, having a few beers, watching the game, soaking up the sun and enjoying the ride - except for one thing - the Sox were getting pretty soundly beaten. It was 6-4 Angels as we entered the 9th, and things didn't seem to be going our way - until Nomar ripped a single to left, John Valentin did likewise to center and Mo Vaughn came up. The park stood, and Mo delivered. It was a walkoff home run - which was special. It was my bachelor party - which was amazing. But even more than that it was where he hit it. Straight towards us - and I mean right out towards our seats. The ball went from the size of a pea to about the size of a basketball in a fraction of a second – and we could just see the entire thing develop as the park proceeded to go absolutely bonkers. The Red Sox stunk that year - one of their worst - but it doesn't matter, that game redeemed them. Later on - when we got home, we found that someone had taped everything. There we all were - frozen in the moment as the ball came towards us (well, most of us were frozen - my Uncle Frank was doing some kind of crazy dance even as the ball was in the air). You could see it all as the explosion began - the endless potential energy that every game starts with released in the instant we saw that ball head towards the stands. We watched it over and over again - Run, Pause, Rewind. (see the rewind here: http://www.backtobaseball.com/playballregularseason.php?page=85&IDindex=BOS199707260&date=July+26%2C+1997 )
- 2. October 3, 1990 - Bruno's Catch - I've been lucky enough to see three AL East championship clinching games live at Fenway. I was there in 1986, 1990 and 1995. The 1986 game was probably the most fun (Roger Clemens and Al Nipper hijacked a horse), but the 1990 game was, by far, the most exciting. The Red Sox had put together a blistering September to take over the lead in the East, but had faltered in trying to close things out, and entered the last game of the season requiring a win to clinch and avoid the possibility of a playoff. I got a seat in the right field sky boxes - my first time up there, and looked almost directly down on Tom Brunansky in right. The game played out fairly normally until the top of the ninth when the White Sox somehow, after making two quick outs, managed to put the go-ahead run at the plate in the person of Ozzie Guillen. One thing I was pretty sure of was that Ozzie wasn't going to hit one my way - he never hit to right. That is - until he did. Guillen hit a sinking line shot to the right field corner. Now if you’ve read through this list you'll know that about a month and a half earlier I had sat in Fenway Park and watched a ball hit into the right field corner turn in to an inside the park grand slam. So now, as I watched from the birdseye seat, all I could see was potential disaster as Brunansky raced into the corner. As the ball tailed away I looked down as Brunansky kind of half slid, half dove into the corner to make a sensational catch to save the game and win the AL East by preserving the 3-1 victory. I ripped up every bit of paper nearby as I and the rest of the cloud box denizens improvised a confetti shower and the Red Sox headed on to the field to celebrate. Good, good times - and points out one of the key reasons why I always felt the whole "Curse of the Bambino" nonsense was exactly that - nonsense. Even if the Sox went on to lose to the A's that year - so what? How could you be part of that event and think that the team was anything but blessed? Sure it was frustrating not having won the World Series - but for most of my life - certainly since 1967 - the Red Sox have been one of the most competitive teams going. There were East Championships in every decade, pennants every decade except the 90's (when they won the East twice and advanced to the Championship Series with one of the greatest comebacks ever in 1999 against the Indians), MVP's in every decade except the one where they ended up winning it all – really - what freaking curse? Cubs fans - OK - I hear ya - you have a case make. But Red Sox nation had the frustration of never landing the biggest fish in the pond, not the tragedy of the lake drying up. See the catch here: http://boston.redsox.mlb.com/video/play.jsp?content_id=4135761&c_id=bos
- 3. July 30, 2009 - Big Papi Hits One For Kevin - This was my first visit to Fenway with my oldest son, Kevin. The day was perfect and the Red Sox were taking on the A's. Now, one of the players in the A's lineup that day was Nomar Garciaparra - and this was important because, since Kevin was about a week old, he had been in possession of "Nomar Garciabearra" a by now off-white teddy bear that represented his first favorite Sox player, and despite his departure, he was still Nomar, still special. Now, at the advanced age of 8, Kevin didn't sleep with Garciabearra anymore, but he still had a place of honor in his room, and it was cool to see Nomar play in person, even if it was in the wrong uniform. Nomar didn't just play that day - he had three hits and scored a run as the A's ran out to a 5-3 lead. As the game entered the late innings, with the horrible prospect of the Sox losing Kevin's first game (and since we live 2,500 miles away it's tough to get back too often), the day was saved by both of our current favorite player - David Ortiz, who hit a three run homer in the bottom of the 7th to put the Red Sox ahead for good en route to an 8-5 win. And this wasn't just a home run - it was one of those moonshots, where you can have a conversation while the ball is in the air. I can still hear Kevin's "WOW!" as we watched the ball soar towards the bleachers, impossibly high, impossibly far away. With my 2 nieces there, visits from Wally on the cards, a bit of perfect weather, and good seats this was altogether one of my best days at Fenway. See the box score here: http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/BOS/BOS200907300.shtml and check out the pictures on the blog.
- 4. August 21, 1976 - Yaz Turns Back Time - In 1963, on the day I was born, Carl Yastrzemski went 2 for 5 driving in the Red Sox only run in a 4-1 loss to the White Sox. Yaz would go on to win the batting title that year and was still playing at the highest level 13 years later when I went to a game on a bus with my Aunt Marty. We had seats in the left field corner and Yaz happened to be playing left that day, taking over from Jim Rice for a stretch. Yaz was, and is, my favorite Sox player of all time. He was my introduction to the Red Sox when, at the age of four, I first became aware that they were a presence in my life. That was 1967 and while I don't remember details (other than a vague memory of someone saying "Tony Conigliaro is hurt") - I remember the buzz - it was unavoidable. I remember the talk about the "World Series". I remember the sound of the games over the radio as we would drive from Springfield to Sheffield and I remember Yaz. The crazy song that they played that year. The sound of the name "Yastrzemski" - like "Supercalifragilisticexpealodocious" but with a practical side. Yaz was always - always - there through my entire formative years. In 1975 he was not the Red Sox best player all year - but he was in the playoffs when he hit, and fielded and willed the Red Sox to sweep an Oakland team that had won three straight World Series. In 1976 I focused on him more than ever - because I knew he was good and because I knew he was chasing history. He was considered old for the time (players last longer now), but he still was a better left fielder than Rice (who wasn't bad by the way - Yaz was just better). In 1977 Yaz would start in the outfield for another year, win the gold glove and go through the whole year without making an error. But in 1976 we just happened to be lucky he was out there that day - and Yaz put on one hell of a show. He deked runners into stopping in the basepaths (which led to a double play). He wrapped out two doubles, drove in 2 runs, scored another, ran the bases, made the final putout of the game with a nice catch and nearly hit one out in the 2nd to boot. He had the guys on the bus singing the "Carl Yastrzemski" polka on the way home and lived up to every expectation in leading the Sox to 5-2 win. I'd seen Yaz live before, and I'd see him plenty after, but this was the performance I remember best. One other thing - that errorless season in 1977 - that was for real. Yaz did not play halfway. He would deke runners, bluff up against the wall, take shots at guys with throws and dive for line drives. Going a full year without an error might be a sign of caution for some outfielders - not for Yaz. See the box score here: http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/BOS/BOS197608210.shtml
- 5. August 4, 1986 - Here's Johnny - In 1986 I had just moved to Boston and found myself in a position I had always wanted to be in - I could go to Fenway just about any time I wanted to. I also had a name of someone who worked at the ticket window at Fenway who had no problem with getting me a great seat as long as I sweetened the deal a little bit. Today you are lucky if you can get a bleacher seat for a game but in '86 the team was not expected to be particularly good and you actually could walk up and finagle a field box. That's what happened one weekday in August - I left work, wandered over to the park, asked if there were any good seats for the game and settled in to watch Roger Clemens take on the White Sox. Clemens was in his breakout season, had struck out 20 earlier in the year (another game, another story) and stood at 17-3 as he went out to face the White Sox on his birthday. I settled into my seat, which was about four rows back from the field, and got ready to watch a little baseball. Just before gametime there was a flurry of activity as the ushers (three) flipped the seats next to me down and furiously began wiping them off. "who the hell is getting this treatment" I thought, and looked back over my shoulder. All I saw were a bunch of guys in Hawaiian shirts, bermudas and sunglasses sauntering down the steps. "Who are these bums" I thought - and as one of them made his way into the seats a Bloomingdales credit card dropped onto the floor, unnoticed. Being a sport I picked it up to hand back to the guy, glancing at the name. "John Nicholson" it read – and I found myself face to face with Jack Nicholson. Strangely, the only thing I could think was "John – why does the card say “John”?" Nicholson was great to sit next to - we chatted about the year Clemens had been having, the work he was doing on "The Witches of Eastwick", and the Celtics/Lakers rivalry ("I wish we'd made the finals" was what he said and got a kick out of the fact that I agreed – because I wanted to beat the Lakers, not the Rockets). When Carlton Fisk came up for the White Sox I said "he hit the most famous home run ever in this park" - "what about Bucky Dent” was Nicholson's rejoinder, accompanied by his wicked grin. He offered to buy some beers for the people around him and sent the driver to pick them up – and when the driver came back saying "they'll only give out two at a time Jack" he tapped me on the knee and said "come on". We went up to the beer booth and Nicholson asked for "six beers please". "Sorry sir - only two per customer" was the answer from the attendant. Nicholson lowered his shades and gave a look through to the supervisor "how about six?" We got the beers. The only downside was when Mike Dowling, a local sports reporter, decided it would be a good idea to harass Nicholson with a camera crew. Dowling was an idiot, who has since faded into much deserved obscurity. The real tragedy is that this is the only game on this list that the Red Sox actually lost (a 1-0 tense pitchers’ duel) but the highlight of the day actually came when, flushed with my brush with celebrity, I snuck under the stands in about the third inning to call home (from a pay phone - no cell phones in those days). I got a hold of my mother and asked if she had the game on. "Yes - dad has it on now". "Well keep watching" I said "I'm sitting next to Jack Nicholson and the camera is sure to show him - I'll be next to him grinning like a fool". "Oh wow" she said and yelled in to my father "Kevin - Mike's at the game and sitting next to Jack Nicholson - watch for him on the television"! Then almost as an afterthought, she whispered into the phone "Mike - be sure to ask him for some golf tips". I thought about this for a second - I flashed on the fact that Nicholson had been cited by the cops for taking a golf club to the windshield of some guy who'd run into his car, but Mom wasn't much for sarcasm. Then it hit me what was going on. "Ma" I said - "You're thinking of Jack Nicklaus".
- 6. September 1, 1990 - Greenwell's Inside the Park Grannie - This one happened against the Yankees during the Sox AL East championship drive in the late months of 1990 (which would culminate with another game on this list). Even Yankee fans will admit that the term "Yankee's Suck" applied to this version of the Bronx Buffoons, as Stump Merrill's team had to have been one of the worst versions of the pinstripes ever assembled. In right field that day was Jesse Barfield, and when Mike Greenwell laced a groundball past first and down the right field line Barfield pursued it like a drunk chasing a dollar bill blowing down the street. Somehow Jesse managed to stumble into the wall along the right field foul line, knocking himself cold, and Greenwell, as well as the three runners ahead of him, raced all the way around to score in one of the rarest plays in baseball - an inside the park grand slam. The weirdest part of this is that for years I had had the strangest feeling that this exact play would happen sometime when I was at the park - I actually remember describing to someone how the lack of foul territory there, combined with the way the ball hugged the wall when it started rolling, was an invitation to someone cracking themselves up on the wall and the ball just rolling forever. The final score that day was 15-1 in favor of the Sox - and I got to see this blowout with my Dad, one of the last times we'd be in Fenway together. It doesn't matter how bad they are - it's always good to beat the Yankees. (See the recreation of the Grand Slam here: http://www.backtobaseball.com/playballregularseason.php?page=44&IDindex=BOS199009010&date=September+1%2C+1990 )
- 7. October 15, 1986 - Game 7 of the 1986 American League Championship Series versus the California (not yet the Anaheim) Angels. This was one of the best pure baseball days at the ballpark ever - immediately prior to the game I had gone to the Cask & Flagon where I figured I would have plenty of time to watch Game 6 of the NLCS and then wander over to watch the Red Sox take on the Angels in the Game 7 finale to what (up to then) had been the most improbable of the Sox post season series. The Mets were playing Houston and were in a situation where they simply had to win or face near certain elimination against Mike Scott in Game 7. Scott had been untouchable for a month - throwing a no-hitter at the end of the season and stifling the Mets in both starts thus far during the playoffs. The game see-sawed back and forth, with it finally being decided in the 14th inning with the winning run at the plate. The Mets had managed to claw their way through - an event that would foreshadow the near future. The Sox as well had taken themselves back from the brink in a bit of action that would foreshadow the future as well. Down to their last strike in Game 5 out in Anaheim, the late season addition, Dave Henderson, had given the Sox new life with a homerun to put them ahead and then a sacrifice fly (people forget this) to give them the win in extra innings. The Sox returned to Fenway somehow seemingly ahead in the series 2 games to 3 (they were 2). I never saw a more disheartened team than those Angels. In Game 7 it was a romp with the final score 9-1, Evans and Rice hit homers, and the park went absolutely crazy. We were certain it was history we were witnessing - had anyone ever seen a team one strike away from losing a series come back to win? Oh, if we only knew. (See boxscore here: http://www.baseball-reference.com/boxes/BOS/BOS198610150.shtml )
