2008 Woodie Awards
Thanks, Sox, for even more memories
Kate Czaplinski
Issue date: 11/13/04 Section: Viewpoint
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When the alarm went off at 5:30 a.m. in Melrose, MA, all I kept asking myself was: Why? Why was I waking up at this ungodly hour on a Saturday? Had it been any other Saturday, I would probably be getting into bed rather than out of it.
However, this was Saturday, October 30, 2004. I had spent the previous night driving to my friend's hometown, picking through the piles of World Series Champions shirts with the rest of the mobs (because hey, you need the latest gear if you're going to the parade), and I actually went to sleep before midnight.
I reluctantly pulled myself off the couch and began to get ready for the day's long journey. Though my excitement began to rise with the sun, I was not looking forward to making my way through crowds on the T and the streets of Boston, especially in the rain. I still didn't know why I was going: I'm not truly part of the Massachusetts Red Sox Nation. I'm just a happy citizen of Connecticut who always had a soft spot for the Red Sox, but never understood the passion of the true Boston fan-until I got sucked into it all here at Assumption.
As we rode the T to Haymarket, I realized why I was doing this-it was simply because I really wanted to. Though I may live closer to Yankee Stadium than Fenway, the Red Sox had my heart and I wanted to go thank them for finally pulling it off.
My friends and I made our way to Tremont Street. The crowds were growing but it wasn't quite the pandemonium we had expected. Around 7:45 we situated ourselves-second row from the street-right underneath the Beantown Pub. There was definitely a buzz of excitement in the air and it was contagious. The whole city of Boston seemed to be smiling even in the rain.
By 9:30 a.m., rolled around the crowd was getting a little tense and a little crazy. A Pedro Martinez look-alike scaled a streetlight nearby, and some very unfriendly high school students began to push just a little too much. When I went to find a bathroom, I came back to discover that the very same high school students who showed up two hours after us had pushed my friends out of the way and into our choice spot. The male member of this posse had also decided to call us very impolite names and a little public dispute ensued. The dispute, however, didn't hinder the parade.
However, this was Saturday, October 30, 2004. I had spent the previous night driving to my friend's hometown, picking through the piles of World Series Champions shirts with the rest of the mobs (because hey, you need the latest gear if you're going to the parade), and I actually went to sleep before midnight.
I reluctantly pulled myself off the couch and began to get ready for the day's long journey. Though my excitement began to rise with the sun, I was not looking forward to making my way through crowds on the T and the streets of Boston, especially in the rain. I still didn't know why I was going: I'm not truly part of the Massachusetts Red Sox Nation. I'm just a happy citizen of Connecticut who always had a soft spot for the Red Sox, but never understood the passion of the true Boston fan-until I got sucked into it all here at Assumption.
As we rode the T to Haymarket, I realized why I was doing this-it was simply because I really wanted to. Though I may live closer to Yankee Stadium than Fenway, the Red Sox had my heart and I wanted to go thank them for finally pulling it off.
My friends and I made our way to Tremont Street. The crowds were growing but it wasn't quite the pandemonium we had expected. Around 7:45 we situated ourselves-second row from the street-right underneath the Beantown Pub. There was definitely a buzz of excitement in the air and it was contagious. The whole city of Boston seemed to be smiling even in the rain.
By 9:30 a.m., rolled around the crowd was getting a little tense and a little crazy. A Pedro Martinez look-alike scaled a streetlight nearby, and some very unfriendly high school students began to push just a little too much. When I went to find a bathroom, I came back to discover that the very same high school students who showed up two hours after us had pushed my friends out of the way and into our choice spot. The male member of this posse had also decided to call us very impolite names and a little public dispute ensued. The dispute, however, didn't hinder the parade.