Or so says the Oracle in the last Matrix movie, and as I used a line from the Matrix to end last season, it seemed only fitting that I use another line from the series to open this one. Either way, I find the line weirdly resonant today of all days, as tonight’s clash between the Red Sox and Yankees will mark the official transition of my team from World Champions to defending World Champions. As excited as I am for the season (the ability to get Red Sox games was a not insignificant facet of my house hunt), I’m also more than a bit conflicted. ESPN’s The Sports Guy (formerly known as the Boston Sports Guy) describes this strange mix of emotions with the following:
I spent my winter secretly hoping that the steroids saga would morph into a prolonged, unexpected lockout, just to give me more time to appreciate what happened. It was too improbable, too surreal, too magnificent. On Oct. 16, the Sox were getting last rites. On Oct. 27, they were pouring champagne in St. Louis. Remember the book “Thirteen Days,” the one about the Cuban Missile Crisis? This one could have been called “Twelve Days.” In eight games over 12 days, everything changed.
You’d have to have followed Boston sports – through the Boston media – to know just how true all of that is. Boston and its fans were, for better or worse, irrevocably altered by the events that unfolded last October. Not in a clinical sense, but measurably so, I think. The media is quantifiably less relentless in its pursuit of the negative, the fans seem to have dropped a major chip off their shoulders, and we all I think recognize that sometimes things do turn out for the best. Impossible things can happen. Not often, but enough to instill hope. But unfortunately for all of us fans, like all good things, this honeymoon must end, and end it will tonight when the first pitch is thrown by (uh-oh) Randy Johnson.
But this is a season that, for me at least, will not be like any other. Gone are the burdens of 86 years, the weight of failures past, the agony of almost. I have no idea where we’ll end up at the end of the season (our pitching scares the hell out of me), but I’m looking forward to another summer of brilliant performances, walk off wins, and really weird Manny errors. For those that don’t get why I or other baseball fans get so worked up over a sport that many regard as boring, I can only tell you that baseball for me is not just a sport – it’s a tie to my family, my region, and millions of other people I don’t know but who’ll buy me a beer in a bar far from home simply because I’m wearing a Sox hat (or if that too Hallmarky for you, just go read Moneyball).
So when ESPN queues up tonight’s game I will reluctantly close the book on a season that will always hold a special place in my heart, and look forward to a new season with new highlights and new memories. Because while it’s true that there’s an end for every beginning, it’s also true that there’s a beginning for every end. Go Sox.
