This statue commemorates Bill Mazeroski rounding second base after his series-winning home run for the Pittsburgh Pirates in 1960. Photo: Creative Commons BY 2.0

Mazeroski’s home run—famous as the one and only Game Seven walk-off win in World Series history—is my earliest, most memorable baseball memory.

Baseball was like background music in my family: always there. My dad, uncle, grandfather, and brother talked baseball and kept track of their teams. Dad alerted me to writers who wrote lyrically about the game. Without realizing it, baseball lingo and metaphors became imbedded in my brain. In high school, my boyfriend took me to a Red Sox game, where bleacher seats were $5, but I didn’t become a true fan until later in life. Raising my kids in Vermont without television, we didn’t see games often—though our neighborhood watched the debacle of the ’86 Sox/Mets series in a friend’s basement. I’m sure our screams of horror could be heard for miles when the ball skipped through You-Know-Who’s feet.

During my Vermont years, friends Rosie and Peter Shiras, ultimate Sox fans, talked baseball and urged me to follow the game. A Civil Rights activist, Rosie taught her students about baseball’s failure to integrate, as well as the Red Sox’s shameful distinction as the last team to sign an African American player. When she retired from teaching, Rosie’s students gave her a signed, framed Jackie Robinson baseball card. (Those who have read my baseball-themed novel, Out of Left Field, might recognize her card as that story’s endowed object.) Last year, I attended the annual game honoring Robinson at Fenway—the day when everyone in baseball, from players to coaches to the grounds crew, wears Robinson’s retired number 42. I raised my cup of beer to Rosie and Peter (RIP) in thanks for sharing their love of the game.

When I married a rabid Red Sox fan and moved to Boston, I became an ardent fan myself. Though baseball can be agonizingly slow compared to soccer (a game I also enjoy and have written about), I love watching a team come together through the season. I love the way Fenway Park feels intimate, even with 37,000 cheering fans, and it’s fun to see how the view of the game changes, depending on where you sit. The city and the region bond with the team, in ways that can be heartbreaking or magical. (That was most evident after an impossible World Series win, when much of New England went berserk with joy—but also after the horror of the Marathon bombings, when the team helped bring the city together.) I love the way the park erupts when a player makes a sensational catch or hits the ball over the Green Monster. I appreciate the smell of pretzels and French fries, the first sip of beer on a hot night, the sappy way we belt out “Sweet Caroline,” no matter the score. I’ve been in awe of the grace and intelligence of a pitcher like Pedro Martinez; I admire the grit of Dustin Pedroia, a small player with an outsize heart. For years, we celebrated the strength and dominant personality of David Ortiz—and now it’s a delight to watch fresh young talent coming up. Hope, despair, joy, tedium, pandemonium, astonishment, laughter—you can never predict what emotions will dominate on any given night.

This year, in particular, baseball provides a much-needed escape from the horrors at home and in the wider world. We have tickets to a Sox-Cardinals game, the team we beat in the World Series after our eighty-six year drought. Like the narrator in my novel Out of Left Field, we’ll emerge from the concrete walkway where—as Brandon says—“The first sight of that green expanse, glittering in the sun, never gets old.” We’ll watch the players warm up, making lazy, impossibly long tosses across the field. We’ll find our seats, stand for the Star Spangled Banner, take that first sip of beer, and wait for the announcement we love: “Play ball!”

And the game begins.

Because “O-Cab” was acquired at the July 31 trade deadline from Montreal, few cards from that year depict him in a Red Sox uniform. This Topps “Heritage” set was modeled after 1955 Bowmans, which honored the then-new “Color TV.”

Orlando “O-Cab” Cabrera had the huge task of replacing fan favorite Nomar Garciaparra at shortstop.

His stellar efforts included 17 post-season hits and 11 RBI.

Tributes from Red Sox fans flowed after after Cabrera’s 2011 retirement.

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The Red Sox are the only pro team to sponsor a yearly literary series, entitled “The Great Fenway Park Writers Series.” Flavin and his new book received July honors. Learn more about the series at the event website. Speaking of Series, admire the World Series ring on the hand of the PA announcer/poet. (Photo courtesy of Julie Cordero, staff photographer, Boston Red Sox.)

I’m not the only author who has written about the Red Sox.

Dick Flavin is the team’s poet laureate. The daytime PA announcer appeared on a popular radio program in April.

This month, his book comes out (Red Sox Rhymes: Curses and Verses).

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Back-up catcher Doug Mirabelli was the perfect team player for the Red Sox, doing anything needed — even welcoming ceremonial first-pitch participants to Fenway Park in 2002. By U.S. Navy photo by Journalist Seaman Joe Burgess. [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

If baseball was basketball, stats might credit back-up catcher Doug Mirabelli with 12 assists for knuckleballer Tim Wakefield’s dozen wins in 2004.

As “Wake’s” personal catcher with over-sized mitt, he gave the hurler the perfect defensive partner. 

Sporting the “C” on his jersey, Jason Varitek led Boston’s 2004 rise. Googie man at the English language Wikipedia [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons

Catcher Jason Varitek was a field general in 2004, guiding a pitching staff.

On July 24 at Fenway Park, he proved to the Yankees and one Alex Rodriguez how far he’d go for a pitcher.

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In 2006, Red Sox legend Johnny Pesky displayed his team pride via his World Series ring. By Hackhix (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Boston players played for “a ring” in 2004.

And what a ring they earned! Their World Series ring read on one side: “Greatest Comeback in History.”

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Manny Ramirez, who provided an all-star homer, gets the all-star treatment at the 2004 World Series victory parade. By Schmiddy at en.wikipedia (Uploaded to the English Wikipedia by the author.) [GFDL (www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons

Manny Ramirez was the sole Red Sox starter on the 2004 All-Star team.

However, Manny and David Ortiz contributed key homers that guaranteed Boston home field advantage for the World Series.

Here are all the stats you’d ever need to relive that night. 

The mysterious Manny Ramirez, circa 2008. By Keith Allison (Flickr) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The words “Manny being Manny” are part of my book Out of Left Field.

They’re being spoken more than a decade later, repeated by Hall of Fame teammate Pedro Martinez.

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Dave Roberts wore a different team cap during the 2010 off-season: the U.S. Navy’s. He toured the USS Carl Vinson as a Padres coach. By Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Travis K. Mendoza (http://www.flickr.com/photos/compacflt/5260980927/) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

More Boston news outlets than California media jumped on the story when former Red Sox speedster Dave Roberts (briefly) was named interim manager of the Padres.

It seems those reporters haven’t forgotten “The Steal” from 2004, either. 

My husband and I were lucky to attend the Sox/Giants game, the summer after the World Series, which marked Roberts’ first return to Fenway Park. The crowd went wild when he came up to bat and gave him a standing ovation, even though he was now playing for the other team.

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Writing or announcing, Verducci knows how devoted Boston fans are! By Sandy_Alderson_and_Tom_Verducci.jpeg: Caryn Rose derivative work: Delaywaves talk (Sandy_Alderson_and_Tom_Verducci.jpeg) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

The 2004 Red Sox revival meant the world to Brandon in Out of Left Field.

In reality, other fans felt the same.

Tom Verducci crafted the perfect tribute to the Boston faithful, a feature that keeps inspiring more than a decade later.

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