(Boston Globe) – They were “Idiots” to the end — lovable, laughable, irascible, and a little incorrigible. They had a taste for liquor before lunch and a knack for turning a victory party into a circus.
Ten years ago this week, the 2004 Red Sox gathered on Yawkey Way for their last goodbye: the largest celebration of a sports achievement in New England history. They had liberated the franchise from 86 years of futility by sweeping the St. Louis Cardinals in the 100th World Series, and the duck boats were waiting.
In their final moments together, manager Terry Francona’s self-styled Idiots demonstrated why they will long be remembered as one of the zaniest menageries of baseball talent since the fabled Gashouse Gang intoxicated St. Louis in 1934.
Whiskey was involved. After all, the ’04 Sox were baseball’s version of cinema’s “Animal House.’’ High on their clubhouse playlist was Toby Keith’s “Beer for My Horses.’’ While their anxious manager had eased his intestinal rumblings during the playoffs by gulping Metamucil, some of his stars had warmed their souls with tastes of Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7. They believed they had developed a winning formula.”
It is amazing to look back ten years later at that unforgettable October in 2004. I was a freshman in high school at the time and I’ll never forget the students and teachers walking the hallways like zombies after each marathon of a game, emotionally drained and in need of a good hibernation to catch up on lost sleep. It. Was. Awesome.
I cried like a baby when they recorded that last out against the Cardinals and remember giving my mom the biggest hug. I ran outside and lit off fireworks in celebration and would run back inside when they shot into the sky, afraid the police would come and arrest me because they definitely weren’t pounding some drinks in celebration somewhere. 14 year old logic everyone!
There are so many players on that team that I continue to use as barometers for the young guns from the farm that are promoted to the Red Sox roster and new free agent acquisitions. That guy’s a dirt dog, like Trot. You see that one? He’s got the catching IQ of Varitek and the OBP of Youk. Oh him? Yeah, that guy has a Pedro-esque fastball with the guts and ferocious competitive spirit of Schilling. And that dude? He’s a clubhouse guy. He’s the glue, the wacky one that makes everyone losen up with an excellent cocktail of confidence, bravado and talent. He’s the new Kevin “don’t let us win today” Millar.
So, thank you to the 2004 Red Sox for giving us the type of postseason run I will absolutely tell my children and grandchildren about. Oh, and for breaking that little ol’ 86 year old curse. Not like it was a big deal or anything.
Don't Think, Just Throw 