The Night Before Fenway
By Doug Lamont | December 24, 2004
'Twas the year after Grady, the Sox were a mess, They'd just blown the pennant, to the Yankees, no less.
The bunting was hung at Fenway with care,
In hopes that the playoffs soon would be there.
The faithful were nestled all snug in their seats,
With visions of pennants; could the Yankees be beat?
And Manny in his kerchief, and Pedro in his cap,
Had just woken up from their long winter's nap.
When out on the field there arose such a clatter,
The fans leapt to their feet to see what was the matter.
Back from the beer stands, they ran like a flash,
Out on the diamond there was a loud crash.
The lights on the Green Monster made Fenway glow,
Gave a luster of mid-day to the ball field below.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But Tek punching out A-Rod, the fans stood and cheered.
With a broken down shortstop, not lively nor quick,
The Sox traded Nomar, the fans had a fit.
More rapid than eagles, Terry's team had game,
And he whistled and shouted, and called them by name.
Now Cowboy, now Schilling, now Manny and Trot,
On Papi, on Mueller, on Damon, you're hot.
To the top of the bleachers, to the top of the Wall,
Now hit away, hit away, hit away all.
Like Pedro's fastball that toward Posada's head flies,
When Manny connects, the ball heads for the skies.
So up from the dugout, the Red Sox, they flew,
It was Opening Day, with a new manager too.
And then in a twinkling, the Sox took the field,
Spinning his knuckler was pitcher Wakefield.
He was dressed all in red, from his head to his toes,
After five shutout innings, in came D-Lowe.
A bundle of Skoal he had jammed in his face,
He pitched two no-hit innings to keep up the pace.
Damon's hair -- how it grew, his face was so hairy,
Schilling's blood-covered ankle, that proved to be scary.
Millar's beard on his chin was as thick as a brick,
At the start of the year, he could not hit a lick.
But Francona stuck with him, in spite of it all,
By the end of July he was hammering the ball.
Ortiz had a broad face, and a massive round belly,
That shook when he smashed one, like a bowl full of jelly.
Manny was Manny, a right jolly old soul,
How cool was Bellhorn's homer that hit New York's foul pole.
A wink of Pedro's eye, and a point to his head,
Gave Zimmer and the Yankees something to dread.
Zim was incensed, he soon charged the mound,
He looked like a fool, as his head hit the ground.
But that was last season, and this year was new,
Schilling rode into town, to join last year's crew.
Down three games to nothing, and trailing the Yanks,
Then Roberts stole second, the Red Sox were cranked.
Then Papi went crazy in games four and five,
It was back to New York, and the Sox were alive.
Schilling pitched awesome the following night,
The Yankees were choking, a beautiful sight.
We all know the story of famous Game Seven,
The Sox bombed the Yankees, the Nation was in Heaven.
As for the Series, there's not much to tell,
The Cards were not ready to answer the bell.
The Sox were on fire, and came with their broom,
A clean Series sweep, gone were decades of gloom.
Mientkiewicz's catch of Foulke's underhanded throw,
Wrapped up the Series and touched off a show.
The Sox stormed the field as New England was thrilled,
The fans flocked to Kenmore, the streets were soon filled.
The party continued right through the parade,
Millions showed up, Sox fans had it made.
The Sox sprang to their duck boats, to the fans gave a whistle,
And away they all rode like the down of a thistle.
But we heard them exclaim, as they drove out of sight,