On April 15th, it didn't hit right away that it was the 10th anniversary of the Boston Marathon Bombing. That's not like me. I'm a date & anniversary (in this case, sadiversary) guy. I'm gonna blame sleeping in and ubin all night, but I've been thinking about that horrific attack all week. As I type this blog at 2:10 am, I have American Manhunt: The Boston Marathon Bombing paused on my TV. I've got 8:11 left in the 2nd of three episodes, so there's a 85% chance I bang out this docuseries tonight after I finish this blog. I'm getting a head start on the blogging day since I'm awake partaking in some holiday festivities.
It fuuuuucks meeeee uuuuup worse than a homemade edible that things that happened my junior year of college occurred A FULL DECADE AGO. I understand that's how time works. It's just crazy to me. Like, holy shit, basically a third of my life has passed since this magical day after a terrible week. I don't need to go into the current state of the Boston Red Sox, so let's focus on one of my favorite teams in sports history: the 2013 Boston Red Sox. Yes, I watched them win the pennant from atop the Green Monster in what will forever be one of the most outstanding experiences of my life. At this point in my life, the Boston Red Sox were one of my biggest priorities. I arguably cared about them more than actually staying alive. While the Sox were off to a surprisingly hot start, things had not gone well for the last few years (which was their longest down stretch since breaking the curse & winning an additional World Series). They hadn't made the playoffs since 2009 when they got swept by the we've-changed-our-name-39-times-Angels-of-California. In 2010, the Sox were too banged up. Chicken and beer ruined 2011. In 2012, the Sox celebrated their 100th season by winning 69 games and employing the man who claims he invented the wrap. Yes, as in the sandwich.
In another, "holy crap, where has all the time gone moment?" I blogged about the 3rd anniversary of Nava's game-winning blast in the early days of dozonlife.com. I love that blogs like that exist so I can see where my head was at in that point in time.
Orsillo's call still gives me goosebumps. It's arguably his best during his storied tenure in Boston. It was simple, yet it said everything. It captured the moment perfectly. Nava's 3-run shot was literally one of those Blu-Ray moments for the 2013 World Series Champion Boston Red Sox. It's such a cliché, but this home run was sooo (one "o" for each run it produced) much bigger than baseball.
This game was on a Saturday. At the time, the Sox were 11-4 and had won six straight. I remember following along during my day shift at DB's Pizza. I had just gotten back from a delivery when it happened. I was 21 years old, in the spring semester of my junior year of college. It had been a rough month---A few days earlier, there was a fake but traumatizing shooting at URI. Academically, it was a tough time for ya boi. There were not chill vibes going on with my then ex-but-still-sorta-gf. Life had definitely been better, and the Sox were a breath of fresh air.
The bombing happened that Monday. I can still remember it pretty clearly. I had just gotten out of the once-a-week class that went along with this Poly Sci lecture and was walking to the RIPTA when I saw what had happened online and saw that the Sox won since I had no service in Washburn Hall. While editing this blog, I looked up the term that I could not put my finger on, and that class was what's known as a "recitation."
That whole week was fucking bananas. This Red Sox-Royals game was not supposed to be the Sox first game back in Boston since the bombing. Friday night's game was postponed due to the ongoing manhunt.
Nava's blast ultimately put the Sox ahead for good, but most people probably remember this game as the first time the Red Sox wore home jerseys that say "Boston" instead of "Red Sox," as Big Papi so eloquently stated during his iconic "This is our fucking city" speech.
Iconic is one of those words that the internet is ruining, but then you've got the fucking FFC endorsing your cursing; that's fucking iconic.
S/O Julius and S/O Daniel Nava for hitting one of the most significant home runs in Red Sox history. Fenway was thriving as he rounded the bases. It didn't win a playoff or World Series game; fuck, it was an April day game against the lowly Kansas City Royals right before they had their brief Renaissance, but Daniel Nava's 3-run home run against on April 20th, 2013, was a season-defining moment for an eventual championship season by a bunch of bearded weirdos. That game and win were crucial for the direction of the 2013 Sox and where things started to feel magical amongst a time of misery.
Ten years have passed since Navs shot a 3-run dinger into the Boston bullpen (caught by ALCS MVP Koji Uehara), but to me, it's one of my favorite moments from my Red Sox fandom and something I'll always think of on 4/20. Even though this is an article that I wrote, on my blog, this story isn't about me. It's about Daniel Nava, Don Orsillo, the 2013 Boston Red Sox, and the resilience of a region after a tragedy. Nava's home run represented rebirth---that people bounce back no matter what happens, and life keeps going. No matter how many future Hall of Famers scumbag lizard person John Henry trades away for pennies on the dollar or fantastic announcers he unceremoniously cans for no reason, the 2013 Boston Red Sox will always hold a special place in my heart. By the looks of this year's Sox pitching staff, there's gonna be a lotttt of 2013 reminiscing on NESN. P.S. Daniel Nava should've been an all-star in 2013. He hit .303 with a .385 OBP and a respectable 66 RBIs. Don't even get me started on his lack of playing time in the playoffs, thanks to dumb-ass John Farrell. Double P.S. I know pitcher wins don't matter to seamheads, but S/O to Clay Buccholz too, for pitching a gem this game to pick up his 4th win of the season. 8 solid innings!
Clay was great that year until he got hurt. He's gotta have one of the strangest career's in Red Sox history. So many highs, even more lows.
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