Donaldson and the Red Sox

I can't believe it. Even the biggest goddam defeatist in all New England is now jumping on the bandwagon. I thought he would write lots of contrite, don't-count-your-chickens pieces as he eased his way back into our collective good graces. But no. All he gives is one line two columns after his pithy little screed:

I don't hesitate to say that I thought they were all done after that 19-8 embarrassment at Fenway last Saturday night that put them down, 3-0, to the 26-time World Series champions. But the Sox came back, and so they were back at Fenway last night for Game 1 of the 2004 World Series, against St. Louis, another old rival.

What, that's it? They still let this guy into the clubhouse? Sure, he says in his article that he's publicly rooting for the Red Sox to win now, but that's a little like Italy rooting for the Allies after Mussolini fell. It rings a bit hollow, wouldn't you say? For me, I'm not excited yet. I'm not elated. The Cardinals are too good for us to say that this is in the bag. They are not a team that will go down easily. They are a punishing team with which we cannot make mistakes. We count them down and out at our own peril. The Red Sox have been brilliant at caging the bird of prey, so to speak, thus far, but I'm keeping a gun trained on the cage until the very end. I'm going to be calm and supportive when something doesn't go as planned, and happy as hell when things go our way, but I'm not "tasting" anything yet, to use Donaldson's vernacular. I do, though, have full confidence that we can win tomorrow. This is the best Red Sox team of my lifetime, arguably anybody's lifetime. They really do have it all. Their best asset, though, is that they're thinking the same way: they're just going to go out and win the ballgame. They're not seeing any ghosts. They're not daunted by history or numbers or any kind of voodoo. They're calm. I really think tomorrow's game will be one for the history books, and not just because it holds the potential to be one of the greatest sporting moments in the history of the world. It's going to be a fight worthy of the greats. The Thrilla in Missoura, perhaps, or is that a bit much? The day we signed Keith Foulke I told Toby, I think it was, that we were going to win the World Series. I've never wavered. I got jarringly nervous when we traded Nomar, but Theo Epstein has more than allayed all my fears about that. (I hold to what I said: I do miss Nomar. I still love that guy.) And Schilling has become arguably my favorite member of the Red Sox. I'm honestly going to be telling my grandkids about what he's done in his last two starts. I've tried to explain how momentous and amazing he's been to people at St. Stephen's, and I've been marginally successful, though I have to put it in a cricket parallel for them to really understand it: "Ok, imagine India is playing Pakistan for the ICC Cup (big prize) and India's best bowler basically rips a hole in his ankle. He doesn't want to quit, so he has a doctor stitch him up. He runs out there and bowls a bunch of maiden overs, hobbling back to start every time. India wins, Pakistan is permanently demoralized." They get it when you put it this way, for some reason. Donaldson, to his defeatist credit, is right about one thing, though: we are one game away, a mere 54 outs, from the moment most of the people reading this blog have been waiting all their natural lives to see. It's a great time to be alive. Necessary post-script: I know quite well and rather like Jim Donaldson, the long-time columnist for the Providence Journal. I know him well enough to know that if he ever read this he wouldn't take it personally. People in bars around Rhode Island are giving him the same crap I am right now, including my dad, probably, but I can't do that so this is my substitute. Donaldson is a damn nice guy, and an addiction-forming New England sports commentator, if a chronically terrible putter. But really, he should stick to his excellent Patriots commentary until after the Series is over and the dust has settled.