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Christian Small
Kendall Parris
ENC 1101
31 July 2014
Red-emption
God damnit, the Yankees suck.
I remember my dad turning off the TV in disgust. He stormed up the stairs,
Sam Adams in hand, and left me on the couch in the pitch black. Wed come so close
again. And then friggin Wakefield comes in and serves up the walk-off series winner
to Aaron Boone on the very first pitch. I dont even know that Fox Sports pulled up
the digital scoreboard on the screen before the damned game was even over.
My Boston Red Sox just couldnt get past the New York Yankees. And as much
as I hated to admit it, I knew it was true. Year after year we failed to beat them when
it mattered most. And even when we did, it didnt lead to the glory of a World Series
championship that us Sox fans had desired for 85 years. My dad, personally, had
been waiting for 50 years to see a championship. I swear he was convinced it would
never come.
The Red Sox were the one thing that my dad and I could really connect on.
We didnt bond, and most nights between us were spent bickering in the kitchen
over spilled milk. Our relationship wasnt seamless, to say the least, and it would
come and go depending on how our team was playing. My father made it my destiny
to be a Red Sox fan when I was born Im sporting a pair of bright red socks in my
baby picture. For the both of us, being a Boston fan was just a way of life. A Red Sox
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win could make or break a day. It could decide between pure ecstasy and crushing
defeat. For my dad especially, a Sox win brought happiness. And not much made him
happy ever since Mom walked out on us.
That night we lost to the bastards from New York was the most crushing
night Id had in a long time. I remember flipping on the TV to see absolute
pandemonium at Yankee Stadium, making sure to turn the volume all the way down
so my dad wouldnt hear and curse me out for turning it on. Boone was being
interviewed for his heroics. After all, hed just moved his team on to the World
Series. There were New Yorkers just going bonkers in the bleachers, cheering wildly
and incoherently through their drunkenness. The cheers rang out all through Morris
Park, too. We were probably the only ones who werent celebrating this victory.
Thats easily the shittiest part about being a Sox fan that lives in the Bronx. The
chances are slim to none that youll find anyone who doesnt hate your team. I was
always on my own when it came to backing up my Sox. The amount of garbage that I
heard on a daily basis during the postseason or regular season or whenever from
the kids at school was just endless. And it was that way for years. You could bet your
goddamn wallet that I heard some more of it the next day.
I like to consider my self a strong-willed kid though. As devastated as I was, I
knew better than to let anyone humiliate me. I dealt with the hecklers back at my
high school and I was able to continue through with my studies. The harder part was
dealing with my dad. Elimination from the postseason brought out a monster.
Rampages from him were as frequent as the nightly trip to the wine and spirits store
down the block. Luckily for me, I was out of the house most of the time, between
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school and work. I always had Saldamarcos to rely on. The deli store was my
ultimate safe haven, and I was always getting praise from Sal for all of my effort. We
had the best club sandwich around, and I cant tell you how many times I was asked
to make it on the daily. It was my favorite to make, but more importantly my
favorite to take home. My job allowed me the opportunity to good meals since there
was hardly ever a crumb in our pantry. I loved my job. The one thing I loved most,
though, was that Tess was by my side throughout the day.
Tess was my rock. I counted on her more than any guy should have to. But
she really didnt mind; she was just really special. She understood what Id gone
through and what I continued to go through on a daily basis. She kept me grounded
with my academics, and when I needed it, shed help tutor me. Tess was just a
positive person. Her beauty was just an addition to her wonderful personality. She
had sparkling blue eyes the diamonds to her face. She had long brown hair too,
which is good, because Im not really into blondes. Tess was loving and very
formidable, and just had this smile that would light up a whole house. I loved seeing
that smile from ear to ear on a day-to-day basis. In a lot of ways, Tess reminded me
of my mother before she imploded on us, of course.
Other than the Red Sox, Tess was my first love. Wed met freshman year at
Morris High, back when I was a scrawny little kid and she was this shy new girl from
Philadelphia. Our relationship grew exponentially over the next three years into
something I could have only dreamed of. She was my best friend, and I was hers.
As our senior year of high school chugged along, Tess and I awaited the
decisions from numerous colleges that we both had applied to. Tesss dream school,
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NYU, was due out in mid December, because shed requested early action. If she got
in, she was going there. No questions asked. Tess wanted to major in hospitality. Me,
being all sporty and whatever, wanted to major in sports management. I told her
how Id end up being the GM of the Sox one day and how Id get her some fancy job
as a hostess for the team dinners and everything. Anyway, Tess had applied to NYU
and schools like Columbia and Cornell, just for kicks. I had applied to some lower-
end schools since the money in my family wasnt exactly great, because I knew I had
a better chance of getting a full-ride to school. The one school that I was after was
SUNY Cortland, which had the sports management programs that I desired.
I remember waking up on December 12
th
to the sound of the doorbell being
frantically pressed. Tess stood at my doorstep, brown leather boots covered in
snow, face red as a strawberry. She was grinning with joy. Tess was holding an
envelope from NYU, and she told me she was gonna open it with me. When she
opened up that envelope and pulled out a certificate informing her of her
acceptance, she started screaming. Those screams turned into tears when she found
out she had a full-ride to college. She was absolutely ecstatic. It was her dream to go
to school there, ever since she was a little kid, and her dreams were finally coming
true. We woke my dad up through all the commotion, and though he wasnt pleased,
he was very happy for Tess. My dad really did like her; sometimes I imagined he
even liked Tess even more than me.
My dad stood over us two for a minute. He just stared out our apartment
window, where snowflakes were gracefully falling to the streets of the Bronx. I just
looked at my father. Day by day he was becoming somebody who I didnt know. He
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stood there in his robe, shaggy beard, frizzy hair and all. He was pondering
something, you could tell. Then my dad, without notice, looked into my eyes, then
Tesss and made a promise. My dad told us that because of Tesss acceptance to NYU,
he was going to take us to Opening Day, Yankees vs Red Sox at Fenway Park. Not
only that, he said. His eyes began to water as he told us the second part to the
promise. Dad said hed be going to the game as a sober man. He said he was going to
quit drinking.

Thats what my dad said.

January 20
th
, 2004. I come home after a late night at work, and I throw in on a
movie, as I get ready to relax for the rest of the night. I started to doze off, and three
cold knocks on our apartment door had me jumping to my feet. Scurrying to the
door, I peer out the window. 2 New York City cops stood outside in uniform. I
opened the door, and thats when I lost it.

Your father, son. Hes been killed in an accident.

A single-car accident. Then they told me that alcohol was involved. A single-
car accident involving alcohol. It felt like a punch to the gut. Almost like your insides
were just ripped out of you. My dad was gone. I was crying and yelling and there
was nothing I could do to bring him back. My dad promised that hed stop drinking.
He told us he would. But he didnt. My dad failed on me. He failed on himself. He
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failed like the Red Sox did last year failed to their archenemy, the Yankees. Who
knew my dad would go on to fail to his number one rival as well.
The policemen calmed me down and offered me a hand should I need it. But I
didnt need a hand from them. I ran to Tesss. We all lost it. We cried all night. And
the next night. I prayed to God that he would take my father for who he was and that
he would fix him, up there.
The funeral was a week later. Some of my dads co-workers showed up, and a
couple people from the other floors of the apartments got word of the tragedy and
made an appearance as well. And of course Tess was there. Her parents, too. Other
than that though, there was no family of ours who could make it. There were lots of
condolences from the people and some people gave me money. Worthless shit. Just
give me my father back, thats all that mattered to me.
The weeks went by. Weeks turned into months. No matter where I was, my
mind would always revert to my father. School was especially difficult. Work, the
same deal. I missed him endlessly. The only real thing that could keep my mind off
my father was the Red Sox. Even then, the team would bring back our best
memories.
As opening day came and passed, I imagined what couldve been with us
three at the game. Just me, Tess, and my sober father. This was all great, but my
imaginations were nothing more than fantasy. Time continued to fly by without my
dad in the picture. I got accepted to SUNY Cortland on a full-ride. That was pretty
cool. My high school graduation came and passed. That wasnt so bad either. But
before I knew it, it was the fall, and the Red Sox were in the postseason. Finally.
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The ALCS came around, and for the second consecutive year, it was the Red
Sox and the Yankees. I hadnt been so excited for something like this in a long time.
It was time for redemption. Unfortunately, things didnt start off so hot. Games 1 and
2 would come and go, and the Sox fell into a 0-2 hole by losing both. Game 3, at
Fenway Park, had the same result. I was convinced that it was over at this point.
Best of 7 series, and we are gonna get swept by the shittiest team in baseball. God
damnit, I hated the Yankees. Not to mention that no team in baseball history had
ever come back from a three games to none deficit. Not one team ever.
Game 4. I know my dad wouldnt even bother to watch it because hed
assume the series was over already. Well, our Red Sox won. The series was now 3-1
Yankees. Game 5 the next night, same deal. 3-2 Yankees. We had hope as Red Sox
nation that maybe, just maybe we could do this. I thought that maybe God was on
my side through all this. Game 6, we survive elimination again. Holy shit. Its 3-3 and
we can actually do this. We can actually come back from down 3-0 and beat the
Yankees.
The night of Game 7, I prayed to God that He help us out and help us get
revenge and advance to the World Series. The night starts off extremely well. Johnny
Damon helped us out with a grand slam, and then a two-run shot that had given us a
substantial lead early in the game. I was going bananas. Tess was laughing at me
because she knew I was making a fool out of myself. I didnt care. This was my team
and this was our year. They were gonna do this for my dad. The 9
th
inning comes
around, and the Red Sox are on the brink of the greatest comeback in sports history.
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And then, 3 consecutive outs. Ball game. The Red Sox were going to the World
Series.
In my heart, I knew this was special. I knew in my heart that my dad helped
us out with this comeback. He hated the Yanks, after all. He probably put in a good
word with the man upstairs to finally help bring the curse to an end. And what do
you know, a week later, the Boston Red Sox were world champions. I couldnt
believe it. 81 years of torment and crushing defeat were finally over. We were on top
of the sports world.
The one thing I wished is that I couldve shared the moment with my father.
It wouldve been such an experience for him to finally see his beloved Sox on top
after 50 years of waiting. I was never more proud to call myself a Red Sox fan. Hell, I
felt so fortunate to even be a fan of this team. And its all because of my dad. I know
my dad was looking down on me as a changed man, sitting up there with a smile on
his face. The Sox had gotten their redemption, so I hoped my father had gotten his
up there, too. I knew Id see him again some day. And when I would, there would be
a Sox cap on his head. You can be damn sure about that.