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THERE ARE CERTAIN DATES IN HISTORY THAT REMAIN ETCHED That horrible day came flashing back to me eighteen forever in our collective consciousness, dates that mark years later when, under the odd glow cast by a fu ll remarkable achievements or tragedies. For certain gener­ moon/lunar eclipse, the Red Sox ended eighty-six years ations of Americans, November 22, 1963, will always be of fr ustration by beating the St. Louis Cardinals 3-0 to remembered as the day that an assassin's bullet cut down complete a fo ur-game sweep, capturing the . Presidentjo hn F. Kennedy as his motorcade wound its way Even as Red Sox put the finishing through the streets of Dallas, Texas. July 20, 1969, stands as touches on what had been a powerful Cardinals team, I a triumph of American technology, as astronaut Neil could not help thinking that somehow, someway, the Armstrong stepped off the ladder of the lunar module Red Sox would find a way to lose this game and the series. Eagle, planted his footprints on the moon, and uttered the The memory of that 1986 loss had been burned into my now famous words: 'That's one small step fo r [a] man, one brain's synapses-no lead, no matter how large, could giant leap for mankind." I remember October 25, 1986. ever be safe for the Red Sox, could it? Only when Foulke You, the reader, are probably scratching your head, puz­ snared a grounder by Edgar Renteria and flipped it zling over what earth-shattering event occurred on that underhand to fo r the day. It's a date memorable to anyone who is a fan of the final out did I finally believe that the impossible had . That evening at Shea Stadium in New finally happened. (What had made everything sweeter, York, the Red Sox were one strike away from winning the of course, had been what had come before in the World Series from the . Leading by a score Championship Series, when the Red of 5-3 in the bottom of the tenth inning, the Red Sox Sox, down 3-0 against the Yankees, had come back to win seemed poised to end the supposed "," fo ur straight to enable this dream to come true.) cast upon the ballclub ever since owner Harry Frazee sold The deep relationship between a fan and team is his star player, , to the in 1920. highlighted in this issue of Traces by Timothy Gassen, The Yankees would go on to win twenty-six world champi­ who, in the mid-1970s, became enraptured by the onships, while the Red Sox last won in 1918. exploits of the Indianapolis Racers, part of the ill-fated The curse seemed over in 1986----even the message-board World Hockey Association. In his article, Gassen relates operator at Shea Stadium flashed a note on the scoreboard how he joined with two friends-Dave and Billy reading "Congratulations Boston Red Sox." Watching the Pickering-to root on the expansion team, suffering ballgame at a friend's house during a Halloween party, I during its rough fi rst few years in the league and strained to see my team finally triumph. Odd behavior fo r exulting as it made the playoffs . He also relates a Hoosier, to be sure, but I had been a Boston fan since how he and his friends gave a pep talk to a Racers reading at a young age Ted Williams's.classic autobiogra­ player before an important playoff game and believed phy My Turn at Bat. The thrill of victory, however, was not they had inspired him to perform well. to be. I watched, numbly, as the Metscame back to tie the Such beliefs-that an individual can, somehow, do some­ game and, when Mookie Wilson's groundball went through thing to ensure victory for his team-are part and parcel first baseman Bill Buckner's glove into right field, snatch of fandom. Mter all, if I had not decided, after Boston fe ll victory from the jaws of defeat. (Adding insult to heart­ behind the Yankees and were on the brink of elimination, break, Buckner had been a favorite of mine from his days to place a Boston hat in a strategic location in my car, the as a talented hitter with the Cubs.) The Mets would team would never have won eight straight games in the go on to capture game seven-and the championship-two postseason. I'm still waiting for my World Series share.

nights later by an 8-5 score. The curse lived. RAY E. BOOMHOWER

• TRACES I Winter 2005 I 3