Remembering that day

If you told me that July 31, 2004 would have been one of the most impactful days of my life I would have surely doubted you, but that was before two monumental events unfolded forever altering how I perceive things. And what was to be the highest and lowest parts of my past year.

It was a scorcher of a day. Calling it humid wouldn't do it justice, oppressive was a more apt description. Why do I remember this? Well because I was walking around Boston and sweating profusely. Not helping the cause at all was the tremendous influx of people to the streets of Boston as legendary jam band Dispatch was performing their last show together at the Hatch Shell. Legendary in the sense that I read about them in the Phoenix earlier on in the week and because that's what the thousands of under-deoderized/over inebriated preteen to 30-somethings who descened upon my fair commonwealth told me. Oh and I was also wearing my fave green t-shirt.

The reason for being in Boston? I was getting together with my recently estranged (is that even the right word?) girlfriend. Long story short, I think the extreme heat and first time seeing each other emotions got the better of us, leading to some misplaced emotions and that threw me into an emotional tailspin for the next few months.

But the sub plot to this day: The Boston Red Sox had traded Nomar Garciapparra. I remember first hearing it from a passing radio while we were walking past Copley. Details were sketchy at best, something involving the Minnesota Twins and the Chicago Cubs. I was crushed. How could this be? Nomar was the Red Sox. Not only the face of the franchise, but the heart of a team: my team. Nomar was the transition from the early 90's rendition of the team, featuring such plodding luminaries as Jack Clark and Phil Plantier, to the current era. Nomar was a home-grown Red Sox (something unheard of at the time). A player who to this day I will debate was the best all around short-stop in baseball, before injuries destroyed a once sure-fire Hall of Fame career. Owner of one of the most recognizable and imitated batting routines around, Nomar was the one guy who proved me wrong in my belief that you don't root for players, but you root for laundry. So while thousands of people were crowding into Boston, one of the most recognizable faces of the region was leaving. To say that I was in shock was an understatement.

End results:
Whereas I once dealt with rejection as well as an insolent 12-year old girl, my current rebound time lies somewhere between 2-5 days, pending physical, monetary and emotional attachment.

Oh yeah, that other little thing. I don't think I need to rehash the incredible story of the 2004 Boston Red Sox. I am 24 years old, 25 in less than two weeks, and I can honestly say that the 2004 season is one of the happiest moments of my life. Not quite up there with graduating college, but moreso than owning my first car. Without question top 4, hands down.

So with these two monumental instance in my personal history as background, I sit on the precipice of another potentially altering day. No, no more misguided emotional clusterfucks to speak of, but perhaps the most recognizable face of Red Sox Nation will again be sent packing. Theo did it before, will he do it again? Nomar, Manny?


UPDATE: Sox win!

"Forget about the trade. This is the place I want to be. They want to win. I want to win, too. I'm back."

Manny just being Manny. A Red Sox for now...