a Magazine for Writers
The Moon’s Red Socks  
by Tina Portelli  

The vitality of spirit I witnessed during this last history making World Series is something I will never forget.

I am not a baseball fan, nor do I follow sports, however, I do focus on the deeper side of the sport when the race is hot and the stakes are high, or when history can be made.   I see  the side of the game that exhibits the deep well of emotions in men.  I am convinced that if men were to show as much enthusiasm and passion towards their mates as they do for that winning home run, many more relationships would make it to the finals.

The Red Soxs were up against the New York Yankees.  Both teams made it to the Pennant race this year, only one would round the bases to victory.  The stakes were as high as the moon.  So hyped were these fans from both teams, the air smelled of hot dogs and sweat.    Testosterone levels flying high, beer flowing, anticipation growing.   These fans are nuts.

The odds were against Boston as they had not won a series in eighty-six years, while the New York team had twenty-six World Series rings in their jewelry case.  Boston had the “Curse”.  They had traded Babe Ruth in 1919 and never recovered from that last error.   They had not won a World Series since 1918.

The first three games of the Pennant race were won by the Yankees.  It seemed like a shoe in.  That did not deflate Boston.  They hung in there with hope and drive.    I finally understand the meaning of, “It ain’t over til it’s over”.  The Red Sox went on to win the next four games and play in the World Series.

The Yankees were devastated, the fans numb.  How could this happen?  They were the unbeatable Pin Stripe New Yorkers.  The manager of the Yankees, Joe Torre, who is usually a classy guy, never congratulated or acknowledged the success of the Boston Team in the post game interview.  I paid close attention, it was the reaction of the losers I was interested in, not the score.  I thought to myself, where is that New York sportsmanship?    Hey sore loser, give someone else a chance.  Come  on boys, share your marbles.

Now was the chance for the Boston Red Sox to finally win a World Series and make history.  I tend to root for the underdogs most of the time, this was certainly that  time. Although I am a New Yorker, I wanted Boston to win. I could only imagine  how they would feel breaking  the curse, no longer having to take the ribbing of the American League, and everybody else who never let them forget.

They were hungry for it to happen.  They won the  first three games of the World Series,    they needed one more to take the ring  home.  Would they get shut out by the Cardinals as they had shut out the Yankees?

The night of the final game I was at a dinner with my co-workers.  They are from Boston and New York.  They are one team in and of themselves, baseball aside.  As I watched the game from a restaurant, TV  high above the bar, slurping oysters, I was surrounded by the of rivalry of anticipating salesmen.   It was an energy of the most wonderful kind, the stuff that makes jokes, laughter, and bonding, sportsmanship at it’s best.

The Boston team did win, they captured four wins in a row.   I was happy to see the good nature of our New York guys toward the new series winners, shattered as they were by the Yankee defeat. Not only did the Red Sox br eak the “Curse”, it was the night of a moon eclipse.  As promptly as the last batter made the last out, so did the moon turn RED.  Was it in honor of the Red Sox win or just another solar miracle?

Will they have to wait for the next eclipse seven years away for another triumph, or can they keep their vibrant red without the help of the moon?

Tina says: "I am 54, single and live in Brooklyn, NY.  I work in Manhatthan as a full time office manager.  My writing is a newly found passionate hobby. I get my ideas from personal experiences and the adventures of family and friends.  I have never taken a writing class, but three years ago I started practicing meditation.   I attribute my newfound passion of writing to that practice, meditation gave me a clear and open mind.  No better friend than the soul of my pen." Contact Tina.