Tagged: 2004 ALCS
The Curse of a Cocky Undergrad: How the 2004 ALCS Changed His Demeanor
It was October 16, 2004, and a young college freshman watched yet another Yankees-Red Sox matchup in the American League Championship Series (ALCS).
Just a year earlier, the boy had witnessed a moment and a swing that would be remembered forever in Yankees lore–as Aaron Boone sent Boston home with one heroic cut at a Tim Wakefield knuckleball.
Shortly thereafter, he sent out numerous college applications to schools stretched across the eastern seaboard.
Ironically, as the 2004 MLB season was set to begin, he received an acceptance letter from a school in New England that would eventually provide his shelter for four years.
The excited high school graduate had little idea that baseball loyalty and his college landscape would be intertwined so tightly–or conflict so powerfully.
After all, he was going to reside in a quiet, historic Rhode Island town named Bristol–known more for its Fourth of July parade and Social-Security-driven economy than cutthroat professional sport obsessions.
The dorms of Roger Williams University were as quiet and somber as any Saturday night in recorded history, as masses of Red Sox fans appeared more like funeral attendees than baseball enthusiasts.
The New York Yankees had triumphantly cast aside their rival for the third straight October night–making a trip to the World Series as set in stone as the sun rising in the east the next morning.
The proceeding games would merely be a formality, only played because no team had yet forfeited a series in order to more easily plan its final fall tee times.
Quiet confidence had suddenly transformed into unbridled enthusiasm and arrogance, as there was now nothing preventing his dreams from coming true. He had never been surrounded by so many defeated Red Sox supporters before: “I could get used to this,” he thought to himself.
The “Curse of a Cocky Undergrad” was born soon after, like another of Dr. Frankenstein’s horrific experiments. The Yankees had created a monster inside of him that could no longer be controlled.
Frantically searching the internet for the best way to rub it in to his newly established friendships within Red Sox Nation, he came across the perfect “medium of mockery.”
The cocky undergrad’s eyes lit up at the sight of a “fan conversion contract”–document dedicated to providing a legal switch of allegiance from Red Sox Nation to Yankees Universe.
After printing out a horde of copies, he floated on air down the hallway–passing out a contract to each and every Red Sox diehard present on his dorm’s first floor. Some greeted him with true disdain, some with a more sarcastic roll of the eyes, and others with a few laughs and good-hearted banter.
Seemingly before the ink had time to dry on the boy’s outward display of arrogance, Boston began nudging Mariano Rivera off of his postseason pedestal.
The blown save on October 17 began to rejuvenate the dormitory, as well as send the first of many shivers down the boy’s once straight and proud spine.
October 18, 19, and 20 snowballed into a relentless nightmare, as if the boy was trapped inside of a Quentin Tarantino movie. Boston had done the impossible–winning four straight games following a 0-3 deficit.
They of course went on to officially shatter Bambino’s curse, and win their first World Series title in 86 long and demoralizing years.
In its wake lied a boy forced to face the harsh realities of the world of athletics–something he hadn’t witnessed since the last half of Don Mattingly’s beloved career.
A powerful lesson was learned over the course of that fateful week, and the boy vowed to never undermine or scoff at an opponent again. The series taught him that confidence and swagger could never again be replaced with arrogance and conceit.
Some may call it pessimism while others may refer to it as realism, but as the boy has turned into a man, he still remembers never to anticipate a victory that has yet to come to fruition.
Also seen at: Heartbeat of the Bronx
The Yankees-Red Sox Phenomenon: The Biology of a Mental Edge
Though it has been repeated again and again ad nauseum over the course of baseball history, there is no rivalry in the sport as passionate as the Yankees and Red Sox.
Once fueled by the bitterness of a Babe Ruth fire sale, the hatred between the two clubs and fan bases has only multiplied and fortified itself over decades of bloodshed.
The perceived presence of a “never-ending” Curse of the Bambino gradually carved doubt in the minds of Red Sox Nation–creating a feeling of impending doom as opposed to assured confidence.
Moments in history stemming from Bill Buckner to Bucky Dent to Aaron Boone helped to provide New York with as much of an advantage between the ears as they had between the white lines.
It would take a perfect storm in order to free New England of its drought in swagger, and its prayers were answered in the form of a team that eerily mimicked the Yankee teams that once shattered their hearts.
These Sox were emotionally tough, gritty, and determined. They cherished every one of their 27 outs, understanding that the game was never over until they had used up their inventory.
With names like Pedro Martinez, David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, and Jason Varitek, Boston developed a new identity and an unwavering sense of entitlement.
For the first time in years, these New Englanders decided to write their own history–instead of succumbing to what past history had informed them should happen. If “believing is half the battle,” Boston was well on its way to achieving what had eluded them for the better part of a century.
It understood that Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio, and Mickey Mantle were buried under the dirt instead of running on top of it. It realized that David Cone, Paul O’Neill, Tino Martinez, Scott Brosius, Roger Clemens, and Andy Pettitte had traded in their pinstripes for suits or other insignias.
Natural talent and athleticism can only take a player or roster so far, and the impact of a mental advantage cannot be overlooked or neglected–especially in America’s Pastime.
Baseball is a sport sitting on the foundation of mind games and statistics, hot streaks and slumps, superstitions and curses. If a player truly believes wearing the same socks for a week will maintain his production, then he will likely go 2-for-4 that day.
Any mental advantage can provide a placebo effect for those whose “9 to 5” occurs on a baseball diamond, and no circumstances better depict this than the Yankees-Red Sox phenomenon.
After a well-documented 86 years of ineptitude and sorrow, it took just one playoff series to completely change the rivalry’s landscape. Just one collapse in the biggest of moments allowed Boston to see New York as any other team.
The Yankees were no longer gods or immortals–they had suddenly had a ***** in the armor exposed for all to see. In terms of Greek mythology, the Red Sox were transformed into a poisoned arrow, and the Yankees were now Achilles.
Nothing has changed since that fateful day on Oct. 20, 2004, as Game Seven of the ALCS forced the evolution of a new culture in the American League East.
As New York stares at an embarrassing 0-7 record against its hated rival, it appears to expect to lose–when it once anticipated a memorable victory. The Yankees need their own magical October moment to once again flip the script, and will be at the mercy of Boston’s self-assurance until that time.
The season series will not end at 0-18, and many wins are left on the table for New York to capture.
The problem is, the team that relishes the sport’s biggest moments now sits in the home dugout of historic Fenway Park–when it once crammed itself into the claustrophobic quarters of the visitor’s clubhouse.
A mountain of pressure now weighs down the broad shoulders of Yankees starter CC Sabathia today, as Yankees Universe begs for a salvaging of some shred of dignity. New York’s ace may pitch a spirited gem against the Red Sox and Brad Penny, and he might falter like every other starter in rivalry’s recent past.
Either way, the mental edge will remain in Boston’s favor until New York boldly takes it back from them. They need to once again respond to Red Sox red like a stampeding bull, as opposed to picturing the continuous bloodshed that 2009’s rivalry has greeted them with.
The tables will turn, and the balance of power will shift down the eastern seaboard. The only question is how long will the Yankees and its apprehensive fan base have to wait?
Heartbeat of the Bronx 