So the Giants come riding into town with their ace, Barry Zito on the hill, we got our fifth starter who may or may not be certifiably insane. What I do know, is that we score runs for Julian, and that Zito has absolutely destroyed my fantasy team this season. So we just lost a series to a bunch of kids wearing royal purple and with names you’ve never heard of. It’s time for the Sox to get their bats going, time for us and them to get our mojo back, and time to get up, dust the dirt of our knees, and get ready to boo Barry Bonds till our throats burn. Listen here Fenway Faithful, I’m expecting all 36,000 of you to boo till you can’t breathe, I want you to be exhausted by booing. I don’t want you to be able to speak till Tuesday. Got it?
We, of course, have another fantastic reason for having sore throats tomorrow, that, of course being Mr. David Roberts, author of, “The Steal”, one of the greatest, if not the greatest chapters in Red Sox history. My life is basically separated into two sections, BS, (before steal), and AS (after steal). Before Steal I had Crunch and Munch poured on me at Yankee Stadium, where I had to listen continuously to old men with bad teeth shout, “Nomar “No Rings” Garciappara” at me every 8 minutes in the upper deck of Yankee Stadium, I had to hear “19-18”! I had to lay in bed for a week in 2003 coming to the realization that it was, in fact, entirely likely that it was not happening in my lifetime. After Steal anything was possible, the greatest comeback in the history of sports, curses could be broken, the Red Sox could not be denied, and bandwagon Yankee hats disappeared. And those that remained saw an entire Nation decked out in World Series Champion gear.
As the great, if not annoying, Kevin Millar once said, “Don’t let us win one!”, and he was right. One was all it took. All it took was the steal led to the hit which led to Papi’s home run which led to Curt on the mound with a bloody sock, which led to Johnny’s home runs which led to Petey leaving it all on the mound, to Timmy finding redemption in the late innings, to a sweep and to a duck boat parade 86 years in the making. But none of it happens without the steal.
So, Barry is going to stand in tonight, 9 home runs shy of one of the most hallowed records in baseball, and have boos rain down upon him, probably a battery or two, and some nasty chants tossed in his general direction. And a 3rd/4th outfielder, blessed with speed, hustle, a cheerful demeanor and not much else out will stand in and have a reception worthy of a king. I can’t wait to hear what the Fenway Faithful has for Barry tonight, but even more than that, I can't wait to hear the Faithful give a much deserved "Hello" to a deserving old friend.