There’s something so special about it. Something that you can’t quite put into words until you’re truly a part of it. I wish I could just give you this feeling, but it’s something that you truly have to experience for yourself. Look around, we’re not too hard to find. We represent what we believe in with an insurmountable amount of pride every single day. Some are born into it and some find their passion along the way. Nevertheless, we all have one thing in common. A team. It almost sounds like I’m talking about a religion. In a way I’d say it almost is. We follow this team everywhere they go, far and wide. If a west coast swing has us up until one o’clock in the morning, then so be it. If a season is set to open in Japan and we have to set our alarm clocks for five o’clock in the morning, then we’ll see you just before the sun rises.

Well, if this is one big religion comparison, then we must have some sort of a church, right? Our church of baseball worship is a ballpark that has been standing since the days of the Titanic herself. We gather in flocks to our chapel, a little piece of baseball heaven, Fenway Park. The gates open for mass at the very start of the chilly days in April and go on through the start of spring through the sizzling days of the summer and with all hopes of the Fenway Faithful, we go deep into the nights of October in search of World Series glory. And our bible you ask? Well, the Red Sox Media Guide of course; issued to Red Sox Nation at the start of every single season, jam packed with every stat you can physically absorb about the players that grace Fenway Park today and the legends that have played long before.

Growing up we hear whispers of the legends of this team as if they were once Gods among us. We hear the tales of the past such as that of the greatest hitter to live, the last player to hit .400 in a season, the very same man that once hit a ball 37 rows deep only to land 502 feet later, Ted Williams. We hear all about the last man to win the triple crown, the captain of the Impossible Dream Team who rejuvenated the love and passion for this team back into the hearts and souls of New Englanders once again, Carl Yastrzemski. We hear accounts of a man who hit a home run in the bottom of the twelfth inning facing elimination in the World Series and just when it looked like it headed foul, he waved it fair with his bare hands to bang off the foul pole, Carlton Fisk. I listened closely to the story of the man known as “The Rocket” who could extend a line of “K” signs out in the bleachers a Major League record twenty K’s long, Roger Clemens. And who could forget the stories told by our fathers of the most feared right-handed hitter of his era. A man whom pitchers would rather walk with the bases loaded to give up one run rather than risk the chance of giving up all four with one swing of the bat; the very same man who our fathers swore if he was healthy enough to play in the 1975 World Series, that the World Series drought in Boston would have ended twenty-nine years sooner, Jim Rice. The stories go on and on, although their days have since come and gone and those men are no longer digging into the batter’s box or toeing the rubber at Fenway Park. Yet, their legend lives on through all of our voices as fans. As Red Sox fans.

The date is Monday April 3, 1989, just another ordinary day in the world, but not to Red Sox fans. This day had a great deal of significance, it was Opening Day. Opening Day is the very day that Red Sox fans far and wide look forward to all through the snowy months of winter in New England. Excitement builds from the very last out of the World Series until the first pitch of the new season, with each season being anticipated more than the next. The Boston Red Sox were set to open up the 1989 season in Baltimore against the Orioles at Memorial Stadium. The Opening Day starters were geared up and ready to go for both respective teams. Dave Schmidt, coming off an 8-5 season in 1988, was ready to take the ball for the Baltimore Orioles in game one of 162. For Boston, well, I think you know who was getting the nod on Opening day. “The Rocket” Roger Clemens was looking to build on a very strong season in 1988 that saw him win eighteen games, earning him a sixth place finish in the voting for the Cy Young Award. Sixth place is great and all, but the Rocket had won the Cy Young Award the past two seasons previous to ’88 by claiming the award in 1987 and 1986. Clemens also had a nice shiny MVP trophy to go along with his Cy Young Award in 1986 as well. So needless to say, the expectations were high for Clemens, but he was just as determined to once again stake his claim as best pitcher in the game and what better way to make that statement in 1989 than to come out firing on Opening Day with a win.

52,161 fans filled the seats to see the first game of the season between the Boston Red Sox and the Baltimore Orioles. Fans would have to dress accordingly to accommodate to the 57-degree temperature to start the game, but that wouldn’t keep the smiles off the faces of every baseball fan that entered the park that day. They had waited long enough to see some baseball and they were going to get their money’s worth that day. The clock on the east coast struck 2:15pm as the Orioles took the field and home plate umpire Don Denkinger screamed, “Play ball!” The uniforms were white, the grass was green, the dirt was dirty and the pine tar was sticky. This was Opening Day at it’s finest and every baseball fan was in heaven. Dave Schmidt took to the middle of the diamond with 52,161 eyes beating down on him as he bent over to pick up the rosin bag on the back of the mound. He walked up to the rubber, took a peak to see if his infielders were ready as he carefully stepped onto the rubber. Schmidt stared into his catcher, Mickey Tettleton, patiently awaiting a sign for the first pitch of the ballgame. Red Sox third baseman and four-time reigning All Star, Wade Boggs, dug his cleats into the batter’s box and directed his attention out towards the mound. At that moment his vision focused on the glove of Dave Schmidt and then, as Schmidt began his windup, Boggs’ vision shifted from Schmidt’s glove to his hand, then from his hand to the baseball as it blazed right towards him until the ball smacked the leather right in the middle of the catcher’s mitt…and the season had officially begun.

I believe that the more you know and understand about the game of baseball, the more fun it is to watch any game on any level. As a kid, it was important for me to not only get better at the game, but to understand the game better as well. Baseball is the only major sport that, if you met someone who has never seen any sport played before, you would have a real tough time trying to explain it to them from the basics down to the tiniest details of important rules. Whereas the other main sports like hockey, football, basketball and soccer are pretty easy to pick up the basics. The offense always has the ball (or puck) and the defense tries to stop the offense from putting that ball (or puck) into their net, end zone, or hoop respectively. However, baseball is the only sport where the defense has the ball. There is no time limit in baseball, so realistically, when you go to a hockey game or a football game, you bank on being there for a couple of hours maybe, but with baseball? You could be there anywhere from an hour and a half to five-plus hours. There are just so many little details that need to be explained to someone who has never seen the game before. What makes a ball fair or foul, which way do you run the bases, what does “balk” mean, how many balls earn a walk, how many strikes is a strikeout? There are hundreds of little questions like those that need to be asked by someone unfamiliar with the game in order to fully understand what is going on. However, those questions are what make the game so unique and unlike any other game played by professional athletes. Just imagine how hard it would be to explain every little rule in the game of baseball to an alien that just landed on Earth that could magically speak English. Not an easy task, right?

Every year my father and I selected our tickets mostly based on what teams we wanted to see the most. It would be impossible to map out our tickets based on starting pitchers for the Sox. Basically, even if we wanted to see only the games that Pedro started, it would be impossible to draft out our tickets that way at the start of a season, because you never know what can happen to the rotation. Injuries, rain outs, anything could mess up a rotation but looking back on that season, you would have thought we some how found a way to predict the future to see when Pedro Martinez would be taking the mound.

For those who lived it, you should treasure those moments forever. For those who have never been to Fenway Park on a day that Pedro Martinez was pitching, I feel very sorry for you. The buzz at the ballpark on days that Pedro was on the mound was indescribable. He was the center of attention of the entire city of Boston every fifth day. The fans at the park were far more excited and pumped up than on any other day at the ballpark. The fans at home made it a priority that, if they were ever to miss a game, it would never be a game that Pedro was penciled in to start. Dominican flags were spotted all through Fenway Park in support of the Dominican born pitcher. Pedro commanded respect and, man, did he ever get it! He got it from his fans, from his teammates and above all, from his opponents. Every single game that Martinez pitched was a work of art, his own little masterpiece. Each and every time he took that mound you got the chance to be a part of history, watching one of the greatest seasons a pitcher had ever put together. Pedro’s 1999 dominance of the American League resulted in 23 wins as he struck out an astonishing 313 batters, all while posting a miniscule ERA of 2.07. Take into consideration that in 1999, the league had seen the most runs scored since way back in 1936 and still Pedro was not fazed by the tainted offensive outburst. Pedro’s 2.07 ERA was just about three whole runs lower than the American League average in ‘99. His amazing statistics ultimately culminated into his first of two consecutive Cy Young awards with the Boston Red Sox and all accounted for the pitching triple crown. The pitching Triple Crown meant that Pedro had more wins than any other pitcher, more strikeouts than any other pitcher and a lower ERA than any other pitcher in the game. These were the golden days when Pedro Martinez could stand on that mound and tell you what he was going to throw you before he threw it and yet he would still strike you out while taking pleasure in watching you look like a fool waving at it or buckling your knees as you watched drop into the catcher’s mitt.

The way the 2000 season ended left a bad taste in every Red Sox fan’s mouth. Ninety-four wins and all that bought us was a front row seat to look straight up at the New York Yankees for another winter as they won the American League East yet again. Don’t get me wrong, I loved that team. The 2000 Red Sox were probably my favorite team that Dan Duquette ever fielded up to that point. Nomahh at short, Varitek and Scott Hatteberg behind the plate, the dirt dog Trot Nixon in right, Pedro on the bump, crazy Carl Everett head butting umpires for saying his batting stance was illegal, “the Dauber” Brian Daubach manning both first base and the designated hitter positions, Troy O’Leary patrolling the wall in left and D-Lowe closing out games in the ninth. How could you not love a team with those characters on it?

Although they were a good team, they weren’t a great team. Greatness isn’t achieved over night, but if they were going to capture World Series glory in the near future, they needed to make a move. This team needed another piece to the puzzle that they had been trying to put together for the past few seasons. The 2000 free agent pool was full of talent just waiting to have money thrown in their direction. The Orioles’ Mike Mussina was up for grabs since the O’s were gladly going to let him walk with the money he was asking for. You can never have enough pitching, but with Pedro Martinez as the ace of your staff in the prime of his career, your main focus should be to get a big bat to score Pedro some runs so that his masterful pitching never goes to waste. And by big bat, I mean big bat.

The 2003 Red Sox were the modern day equivalent to the 1967 Impossible Dream team, except that the ’67 team was a long shot to make it to the World Series that season. 2003 was an important season to all Red Sox fans, because it was the season that jolted Red Sox Nation back to life once again after a brief drought in postseason appearances. The newly formulated roster with new names and faces drew the attention of Red Sox fans even closer. They were getting to know almost a whole new team, but still were feeling comfortable about the faces of the franchise players still right where they always had been. It was a brand new “supporting cast”, if you will, added onto an already solidified club. They weren’t the best players in the game, but as we all would learn, it doesn’t always take the best talent to compete. Chemistry and character can go a long way; a very long way.

Postseason play began the very first day that we all turned our calendars to October. In game one of the best of five series set to open in Oakland, we fans back home in Boston had to prepare ourselves for some late night baseball. What Red Sox fans were unaware of prior to that game was that the “late night baseball” that we were all preparing ourselves for would soon evolve into “really late night baseball” in Game 1 of the American League Division Series. The series opener was aces wild as Pedro Martinez went toe to toe with Oakland ace, Tim Hudson. The Network Associates Coliseum was packed with over 50,000 screaming Oakland fans hoping to see the Athletics first step towards a World Series title since they had last hoisted the Commissioner’s Trophy back when I was born in 1989. The expectations for this one were banking on a pitchers’ duel and anything else would be unexpected. It was Red Sox second baseman Todd Walker who stole the spotlight from both starting pitchers by putting on a hitting clinic against Tim Hudson. In the first inning of postseason play for Boston, Walker took Tim Hudson deep into the right field corner to start things off on the right foot for the Sox run at a World Series title.

The lead was short lived as the A’s attacked Pedro in the bottom of the third for three runs on three hits, but those three runs weren’t enough to knock this team down. Jason Varitek hit a solo shot in the top of the fifth to help the Red Sox get within a run. By the seventh inning it was time for some more fireworks. With two outs in the inning, Nomar Garciaparra singled to left to put a man on for, guess who? Todd Walker. With Walker having already homered off of Hudson earlier in the game, Oakland A’s manager Ken Macha went to his bullpen for lefty reliever, Ricardo Rincon, to set up a lefty/lefty match up. On the third pitch of the at bat, Todd Walker did his best Tiger Woods impression and golfed a two-run bomb over the 367 marker in right field to give the Red Sox a 4-3 lead. Walker and I had the same reaction as he rounded first base. A big fist pump, but no smile yet. That home run had me really feeling good about the outcome of this game but as we all know, anything can happen in baseball. Regardless, that one home run boosted my confidence not only about this game, but for the whole series. The Red Sox just looked too motivated to fail.

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The longest offseason of my Red Sox fan career had begun. There were 171 days in between the devastating Aaron Boone home run and the greatest holiday in all of New England, Opening Day, which came on April 4th of the 2004 season. The wait for Opening Day wasn’t as depressing as I thought it was going to be thanks in part to Theo Epstein and the rest of the Red Sox front office putting together quite an interesting and productive offseason. The Red Sox brass wasted no time in making strides to get right back to where they had fallen just inches short the year before. Coming off an ending to a season such as we all saw in 2003, getting that far, getting so close to a World Series; anything less than getting back to that point and beyond that would be a tremendous disappointment in 2004. Just like any other day, the channels on my TV never budged from either NESN or ESPN. When I wasn’t near a TV, my ears were tuned to WEEI, waiting, hoping and praying that some big moves were on the way. Rumors started to swirl around that the Red Sox were closing in on a deal for the co-MVP of the 2001 World Series, Curt Schilling. In recent years, Schilling had been the big game pitcher that the Red Sox had been looking to acquire for so long. On top of all that, he was a certified Yankee-killer.

Back then I wasn’t old enough for a “real” job. I used to deliver newspapers in my town to make my own money so that I didn’t have to bum cash off of my parents. Every day after my dad got out of work, he used to drive me around in his truck to deliver the papers because my route wasn’t walking distance from my house. We listened to WEEI in his truck every single day and believe it or not, it used to make me deliver the papers faster. I would be listening attentively to all the trade rumors concerning Curt Schilling and other offseason buzz in between houses. I listened to caller after caller praising the right-handed flamethrower. So instead of walking up to a house as slowly as possible and walking all the way back dragging my feet, I sprinted to the house, dropped off the paper and sprinted back to my dad’s truck so that I didn’t miss a word. The only exception was when I delivered to Mrs. P’s house. She loved to talk about the Red Sox. Her son used to visit every Friday and when I came with her newspaper, he loved to drill me with Red Sox trivia from way back in the day, but he could never stump me.

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No excerpt available.

The days leading up to that first playoff game I said every prayer I could to prevent a traumatic postseason experience like the one we had gone through just a year prior. When draft day came for our postseason tickets, we drew the last pick in the draft, which was the sixth. The four World Series games went first, as always, then Game 5 of the ALCS, then Game 4, leaving us with either Game 3 of the ALCS or Game 3 of the ALDS. As it was every year, my dad left it up to me to decide which postseason game we were going to get. I wanted to see an ALCS game, so Game 3 it was. It was no Game 1 of the World Series as we had drafted the year before, but the way the Red Sox and the Yankees were playing, we had a really good chance of seeing another October match up between the Sox and Yanks. What’s not to love about that?

The days leading up to the 2004 postseason, I began to prepare myself mentally, knowing that anything and everything that a baseball fan could ever endure in a one month time span was most likely going to take place. The 24-hour gap between the last day of the regular season and the start of the playoffs seemed like an eternity. To make matters worse, it was a Monday, so you know I wasn’t paying attention to a word any of my teachers were saying periods one through seven. October 5, 2004 finally arrived and the playoffs were about to begin. But at the same time, I was apprehensive, because I feared having to go through another tragic ending to what had been a magical season. But you know what they say; you can’t let fear hold you back from glory. It was on to Anaheim for Game 1 of the American League Division Series. The 2004 season had been one of the wildest rides I had ever been on from a fan’s perspective, but little did I know that the season was just a kiddy ride compared to that postseason.

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No excerpt available.

I had been to a championship parade in Boston before. On February 5, 2002, I was one of an estimated 1.3 million in attendance to celebrate with the Super Bowl Champion New England Patriots in City Hall Plaza. On February 3, 2004, I was one of an estimated 1.5 million in attendance at the parade celebrating the second Super Bowl victory in three seasons for the New England Patriots. On October 30, 2004 I was a part of something much, much greater and longed for than both of those two parades combined. That Saturday morning, I went into Boston with my two friends, Mike Ghika and Mike Mastronardi, hours before the parade was scheduled to start in order to assure ourselves a front row spot along the guardrail on Tremont Street. No Patriots, Celtics or Bruins parade could have ever prepared me for the madness that went on that day in Boston. It was truly remarkable how amazing that day really was. There were fans of all ages, gender and race packed for miles along the streets of Boston. By the time the Red Sox boarded the duck boats and began their memorable ride through the streets of Boston, the crowds on both sides of the parade route were anywhere from 20 to 100 people deep, depending on where the boats were. With a front row spot, I was as close as we could possibly get to watch the World Series heroes ride by. To be that close to the team that finally ended the 86-year World Series drought was beyond a feeling of being star struck. I had seen these guys live on the field plenty of times, but I was so close that I could almost reach out and touch the duck boat.

The scene there that day was just amazing. There was a sea of fans in the streets, there were people hanging out of windows, people hanging off of rooftops, all while red and blue confetti was raining from the sky. It was everything that I had imagined it would be. Just watching the duck boats slowly ride by, watching the faces of David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martinez, Curt Schilling, Jason Varitek, Johnny Damon, Trot Nixon, Keith Foulke, the names go on and on. Looking on while the heroes of that World Series team acknowledged their fans as they waved and thanked everyone in sight, while we all screamed our lungs out thanking them right back. It was such a great moment to be thanking these players in person and for me personally, to even be making eye contact with some of these players was almost as if I got to sincerely thank this team for bringing a lifetime of euphoria to the city of Boston. Once the parade had passed us completely, it was a no-brainer to then follow the duck boats for the rest of the parade route. That day I was just one of well over three million in attendance to celebrate the Red Sox winning a World Series championship and I will never forget it.

For the first time since the year 1919, the Boston Red Sox were opening a season of baseball with a World Series title to defend. The last time the Red Sox began a title defense, dial telephones were just being introduced to the world and Woodrow Wilson was sitting in the oval office. The Red Sox and their fans had April 11, 2005 circled on their calendars as the day that the World Series rings would finally be unveiled and distributed to the World Series Champion Boston Red Sox. A whole 86 years and 15 United States Presidents later, every Sox fan who would fill Fenway Park that day had a device unknown to the last crowd to fill the ballpark on an Opening Day coming off a World Series Championship in Boston. That device was a few technological advances ahead of the dial telephone, as every cell phone with a camera among the 33,702 was sure to be fixated on the flagpole out in center field while a World Series Championship flag was set to be raised. But unfortunately for impatient Red Sox fans (which all of us were), we had to wait a little while as the defending World Champions opened their season on the road; not just anywhere on the road, but at Yankee Stadium.

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With the unfortunate injuries that pulled the plug on an October party in 2006, the Red Sox front office looked to revamp and transform their team into sure postseason contenders once again. The Sox wasted zero time making a splash to improve their club by made a bid of $51.1 million for the rights to negotiate a contract with Japanese phenom, Daisuke Matsuzaka. Sox fans later learned that Boston’s bid was the highest among all bids around the league. Theo Epstein and company were given thirty days to negotiate a contract with the right-hander and on the day before the deadline was up, the Red Sox inked Matsuzaka to a 6-year, $52 million deal on December 13, 2006. Of course with Scott Boras as Matsuzaka’s agent, it was not a surprise that it took almost all of the thirty days to strike a deal.

With a new weapon in the Sox arsenal, there were more positions that needed to be shaken up and more areas that needed to be addressed. It all started with the middle infield. The Red Sox lost Alex Gonzalez, who set a Red Sox record with 57 straight errorless games, to the Cincinnati Reds via free agency. To fill the void at shortstop, Boston signed Julio Lugo to a 4-year, $36 million deal in early December. Their every day second baseman in 2006 also hit the road out of Boston when he signed with the Houston Astros, thus allowing Dustin Pedroia to become the starting second baseman for the Boston Red Sox.

Thinking back on the entire experience of the early weeks of the summer, I’m almost positive that I laughed it off, thinking that there was no possible way that I would ever be able to compete with the big names who were rumored to be running for President of Red Sox Nation. Every celebrity once living, or currently living in or around Boston was throwing his or her name in the hat to become the very first President of Red Sox Nation when the contest first was brought to my attention. Ben Affleck, Matt Damon, Stephen King, Bill Lee, Denis Leary, Bill Simmons, Mike O’Malley, you name it, they were mentioned as being a legitimate contender for this position.

People joked with me, whether it be my dad and his friends, readers on SoxSpace or my own friends, about running for President of Red Sox Nation, but obviously it was the most farfetched idea I had ever heard at the time. Why would I waste my time if all these A-listers were going to be involved? What you do think the chances of a kid fresh out of high school has of winning this? I’d have to go out on a limb and say that my chances were not in my favor. There were whispers on SoxSpace of my involvement with the competition, but I had not nominated myself; I refused to do that. The only way I was going through with the election was if the people chose to nominate me. If the people chose to officially nominate me, then I would honor their recognition and do whatever it took to win it for them. I was flattered to see that so many people would think of me when the position for the President of the most loyal and dedicated fan base in all of sports was first brought to the attention of the fans.

I took the Bill Belichick approach and took it one obstacle at a time. If anyone asked me about the televised debate, I would just say “I’m focused on the Meet the Candidates night, I’m preparing for the Meet the Candidates, and we’ll worry about the debate next week.” I have the mindset that once I start something that I put a lot of heart into, I can’t stop until I’m finished and 100% satisfied with what I have done. Needless to say, this speech that I had to read at the Baseball Tavern had to be perfect. This was my shot. If I could write something perfect, then I was golden. The ticket to the next round was through a gate that I considered my strong point, writing. The only problem was, would I be able to recite it with the same passion that I wrote it with? My English professor, Janet Burt, took the time to give me pointers on public speaking and how to remain calm while in front of an audience. She also taught me how I should present myself once I’m up on stage. From that point on, it was up to me to prepare something in writing that was going to grab the attention of the audience and separate myself from the other candidates with a unique twist.

I grabbed my laptop and posted up at my desk for numerous hours, trying to find the right words to say what needed to be said. The celebrities that I was going up against needed no introduction. I needed to somehow introduce myself to these people and tell them a little bit about myself while getting straight to the point as to why I wanted to be president, because this wasn’t supposed to be the Jared Show up there. I poured my heart out on the paper until I felt that I had captured exactly what I wanted to say to everyone in the room that night. It’s a good feeling to have that kind of satisfaction going into an event that had this much significance. It was definitely a confidence booster for sure.

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No excerpt available.

Well, on a night when Red Sox Nation had a checklist of only two objectives, they knocked their magic number down to one with the help of a gem by Daisuke Matsuzaka, going eight strong innings with Papelbon shutting the door by racking up his thirty-seventh save of the season, concluding their 5-2 victory over the Twins. Now all we needed was the Yankees to lose in Baltimore. So as Red Sox Nation flipped their channels to the New York/Baltimore game, most sighed with disappointment as the Bombers were leading in the late innings. Still, the faithful remained at Fenway as the big screen in center field was showing the game just in case the Yankees were not able to secure their lead at Camden Yards.

After the Sox game had ended, the bottom line on NESN made an announcement stating that the Red Sox Nation Presidential Debate was postponed and was to be aired on a date to be named later. At the time I had a few of my buddies over for the game and they were going to stay to watch the debate, of course. While everyone else in the room was angry and confused with the postponement of my TV debut, I was sitting there smiling. When asked why I was smiling, I didn’t respond; I didn’t want to jinx anything. It was almost like the producers at NESN knew that something special was going to happen that night.

It seemed as if one thing after another was falling into my lap. Opportunity after opportunity, a once in a lifetime chance after another. In this case, the special opportunity was a local television show called “Red Sox Weekly” hosted by Rick Aronofsky. About a month prior, I had called into Red Sox Weekly to talk about SoxSpace and Rick had a trivia question up his sleeve before I was to make my exit via cell phone. It was right after Clay Buchholz had thrown his no-hitter in Boston, so Rick stuck to the trend of “no-no’s” and dug up some Red Sox no-hitter (or almost, actually) history. The question was “What Red Sox pitcher came within one out of throwing a no-hitter in 1967?” As soon as he started to ask the question, I already knew the answer, just because he said he was sticking to the topic of Red Sox no-hitters. Not only did I give him the answer, but I also gave him a little history of the game itself. The answer was Billy Rohr. It was his first career start and he carried a no-hitter into the ninth inning with two outs and two strikes before Elston Howard broke it up with a base hit into right-center field. The ironic thing about that game was that Elston Howard later ended up with the Red Sox that season and was a big part of the magical run of the 1967 Impossible Dream team.

Well, since I nailed that question, Rick contacted me and invited me to be an in-studio guest on Red Sox Weekly. I was flattered that I was even considered and gladly accepted his invitation almost instantaneously. The show was filmed in Wilmington, Massachusetts and it just so happens that I have family that live there, so I figured what the heck, come on down! I arrived at the studio with my family and my godparents, Paul and Carol, met us there along with my cousin (who has been more like the brother I never had for my whole life) Mike Scola. Everyone was real excited to be there, as was I, of course. After my recent experiences, I had lost my tendency to be nervous on camera, which was great, because prior to this whole presidential election, I didn’t have the courage to go up in front of a class with ten kids in it. The most exciting aspect about being on the show for me wasn’t even that I was actually going to be on the show itself, it was when I learned that the guest who would be calling in for an interview was none other than the nine-time All Star, four-time Gold Glove Award winner, 1975 American League Most Valuable Player and Rookie of the Year, yep, you guessed it, the player whose name is embedded on my first baseball glove that I had ever owned, Fred Lynn.

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No excerpt available.

After Game 7, my dad called for my attention. “Did you forget something?” he asked. I was trying to figure out what he could be talking about but I was puzzled. “What do you mean?” I asked. It was then that my dad pulled something from behind his back and shoved it in my face. “We’re going to the World Series!” he yelled. I took two steps back so that I could focus on what was in front of my face and there were two tickets to Game 1 of the 2007 World Series! I’m such an idiot! I was so caught up in the President of Red Sox Nation election that I had completely forgotten about the postseason ticket draft. “I figured that since you didn’t remember, that I would keep it under wraps, because we all know what happened last time we had tickets to the World Series that you were all excited for,” my dad exclaimed. Couldn’t disagree with his logic there. After a few celebratory cigars, it was time to catch up on some sleep with three days until Game 1 of the 2007 World Series!

The whole way there it didn’t really register in my head where exactly I was going, but once I got to Fenway Park and sat in my seats, it was a feeling unlike any other. Being able to be at a World Series game with my dad was a day that, after 2003, I thought I was never going to see. It meant the world to me to have finally been able to experience a World Series game with my dad. I soaked it all in and tried to savor every bit of the memory as much as I could, while Josh Beckett and company went to work on the red-hot National League Champion, Colorado Rockies. Was it the rust? Was it the Red Sox momentum? Or was it Josh Beckett being Josh Beckett? Who cares, because by the end of the night the Red Sox led the Colorado Rockies one game to nothing in the 2007 World Series.

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No excerpt available.

Following Jon Lester’s no-hitter, Red Sox Nation turned its eyes to another accomplishment yet to be achieved by a Boston player. Only this time, we could see this achievement coming, whereas Lester’s May 19th no-no was a pleasant surprise. After homering off of Minnesota’s Livan Hernandez on May 12, 2008, Manny Ramirez sat just two home runs away from the essential home run hitter’s major pinnacle of milestones, 500 home runs. Just two days before my dad and I, along with some of his buddies from work, hit the road to Baltimore, Ramirez hammered career home run number 499 off of Miguel Batista at Safeco Field, leaving one swing of the bat standing in the way of Manny Ramirez and a first ballot entry into the baseball Hall of Fame.

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The next morning I woke up at two in the afternoon with a banging headache. I reached over to grab my cell phone to see if I had any provocative text messages that I may have missed during my mid-day slumber. I had a couple from the usual suspects, but nothing that was going to jolt my exhausted ass out of bed in a hurry. When I exited my inbox, I noticed that I had a voicemail, but I didn’t have a missed call (don’t you hate when that happens?). When I checked my voicemail, I recognized the voice right away. “Hey Jared, It’s Rob Crawford calling, it is Monday around I don’t know, 11am? I’m calling from up here in New Hampshire where I’m on vacation. I wanted to call and say congratulations to you on being selected as the Governor of Massachusetts for Red Sox Nation. We all know you deserved it. See? Good things happen to good people and I will see you at Fenway tomorrow night for that pregame ceremony. I’m looking forward to it and I look forward to some good times with you doing good things for Red Sox Nation. Take care, bye.”

Wait, wait, wait. Congratulations on being selected as what? And you’ll be seeing me where? For the pregame what?! After listening to his voicemail twenty times over, it finally registered that I had been selected as the first Red Sox Nation Governor of Massachusetts. I flipped open the lid to my laptop faster than a Josh Beckett fastball and logged into my email account only to find an email from Joe Chamas with the Boston Red Sox. “Hello RSN New England Governors, I hope everyone had a nice 4th of July weekend. I look forward to seeing you at the ballpark tomorrow. Please remember to arrive at 3:00pm at the Gate A entrance on Yawkey Way. You may let the Fenway Ambassador at the door know that you are here to meet with me and they will send you upstairs. I will also have two game tickets for you and one guest.” It turns out that not only had I been named Red Sox Nation Governor of Massachusetts, but I was going to be introduced on the field at Fenway Park before a sellout crowd. But wait a second, two tickets? This is something that I would want, even need, my whole family to be at the ballpark for.

Through the month of July, the Red Sox battled to reclaim first place. It was a battle that was being waged both on the field and inside the Red Sox clubhouse. As the trading deadline approached, it seemed almost imminent that something had to be done concerning the ongoing issue between Manny Ramirez and the Boston Red Sox. The disgruntled left fielder seemed to have worn out his welcome here in Boston and, as a fan, it became too much for me to bear, since I was such a big fan of his. I remember the very first day that he arrived in Boston and held up his brand new Red Sox jersey for all to see. From that day forward I rode out the wave that was “Manny Being Manny” here in Red Sox Nation. As the years went by, it seemed as if it was an annual tradition come trade deadline time that Ramirez would try to talk his way out of Boston. After the deadline had passed and he remained with the Red Sox, it was like a relationship revived. In 2008, there would be no reviving this relationship, as things got ugly, fast.

With the addition by subtraction removal of Manny Ramirez and the annexation of Jason Bay, the Red Sox were a team reborn. They battled for each other and, more often than not, they succeeded. With the media outlets claiming that the Red Sox were a lesser team without Ramirez inserted into their lineup every night, Jason Bay and the Red Sox begged to differ. August 12, 2008 was the defining moment for this new-look Red Sox team. In one of the wildest games you will ever see at Fenway Park, the feisty boys from Boston went to war with the Texas Rangers in a memorable slugfest that was won in the eighth inning when Kevin Youkilis teed off for his second home run of the night. Behind the 5-for-6 Dustin Pedroia, the 3-for-4 David Ortiz, and a smoldering hot Kevin Youkilis, the Red Sox defeated the Texas Rangers 19-17 as both Pedroia and Youkilis began to stake their claim for the league’s Most Valuable Player. The Rangers weren’t the most difficult of competition, but this game put on display the amount of tenacity that this team really had from the leadoff hitter on down to the number nine hitter. It was that persistence that stayed with this team throughout the stretch run while setting an example for those who dared to come to Fenway Park in search of a victory.

Welcome to October baseball. It’s a new season, which means forget the regular season. Forget the records, everyone starts at 0-0. Forget the stats; everyone is batting .000. Forget the past; Dave Henderson can’t pinch hit for the Sox this year and Manny Ramirez won’t be hitting any bombs off of K-Rod in this series. It’s a new year; two new teams, but all the same excitement. The American League Division Series was set to take place between two American League powerhouse teams for the second year in a row; the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim and the Boston Red Sox. With the Sox entering the postseason a little banged up, one of the repercussions of their injuries moved the ailing Josh Beckett to Game 3, while Jon Lester took the ball in the series opener. Having a pitcher like Jon Lester starting Game 1 due to an injury to your ace as your “main problem”; I’d say that’s not that bad of a “problem” to have.

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