Bytes from the Bean : 10-03By Joe Manning
12:00AM / Thursday, November 06, 2003
FORGET THE CURSE
The other night on the Red Sox/Orioles broadcast, among the usual NESN and RemDawg signs in the Fenway Park crowd was one that said, "My Brother Married A Yankee Fan!" Oh, I know the feeling.
The three greatest moments of my childhood were: when the Dodgers beat the Yanks in the 1955 World Series, when the Pirates beat the Yanks in the 1960 World Series on Bill Mazeroski's lead-off homer in the ninth inning, and when the Washington Senators swept a double header in Yankee Stadium on Memorial Day 1958.
If Red Sox fans feel sorry for themselves, consider my plight as a youngster. I rooted for the Washington Senators. I grew up in the DC area, so they were my hometown team. For those who don't remember, they were in the American League. Just barely.
They won the World Series only once, in 1924, when they got ridiculously lucky and defeated the New York Giants in seven games. In Game 7, the Senators were behind 3-1 in the eighth, when a routine ground ball off the bat of a Senator hit a pebble and took a bad hop, scoring two runners and tying the game. With the game still tied in the 12th, another bad hop single in precisely the same spot brought in the winning run, signaling Washington's last moment of baseball glory.
From 1947, the first year I started attending games, until 1971, when they moved to Texas, the Senators finished last in the American League 11 times, and next to last 7 times. For that period of 25 years, their combined won/lost record was 1623-2302, for a whopping .414 winning percentage. In that same span, the New York Yankees won 15 pennants and finished second or third 5 times. So it's not surprising that I grew up hating the Pin Stripers.
Despite Washington's miserable record, things were beginning to look promising in 1959, when a youngster named Harmon Killebrew hit 42 home runs in his first full season. When the Senators finished fifth in 1960, it was getting downright exciting. But then owner Calvin Griffith decided to abandon the steamy summers of the Nation's Capitol for the snowy Aprils of Minnesota. The Twins went on to finish second two years later, finally winning the pennant in 1965. By that time, Killebrew had swatted 213 more home runs.
All was not lost though. The American League was kind enough to replace the old Senators with the "new" Senators, a ragtag expansion team that lost 100 or more games in each of its first four seasons. When they signed up Ted Williams as manager in 1969, and proceeded to win 86 games, fans started filling up the seats at the new Robert F. Kennedy Stadium. Then they moved to Texas. On their way out, they made an embarrassing exit.
In their final game (at home), they were leading the Yankees 7-5 with two outs in the top of the ninth, when more than a 1,000 fans poured onto the field and grabbed the bases and everything else in sight for souvenirs, and the game had to be forfeited. Yankees 9, Senators 0.
Since then, there has been no team in Washington. When I moved to New England in 1970, it made sense to root for the Red Sox. After all, they had a genuine rivalry with the Yankees, and that was good enough for me. In 1975, I made my first trip to Fenway, and watched Fred Lynn and Dwight Evans swat homers over the Green Monster. I loved Tiant, Burleson, Pudge Fisk, and the whole gang, so when they headed into the World Series against the Big Red Machine, I was glued to my TV set.
Close, but no cigar.
And now, 28 years later, after the Bucky Blast and the Buckner Boot, I am still rooting in vain against the Bronx Bombers.
As I write this, the Sox are in the playoffs, but are two games down to Oakland. The Yanks have split their first two games with the Twins (my old Washington Senators!). I feel like Charley Brown about to kick the football. I know Lucy will pull it away at the last minute like she always does, but I'll still head for it with hope.
I'm not complaining. As a kid, I learned to love baseball more than winning. In those long, sweaty afternoons at the half-empty Griffith Stadium, I appreciated the beauty of the game despite the dominance of the Yankees. I was lucky to see a lot of great players, even if most of them suited up in the uniforms of the opposing teams.
Let's forget the curse. The Yanks have their own curse. Anything less than a championship means failure in New York. They have a reputation to protect, and they haven't lived up to it the last two years. We Red Sox fans are lucky. We know they will always live up to their reputation.
Visit Joe's website at: www.sevensteeples.com.
Email Joe at: manningfamily@rcn.com |
