Why I believe

WheneverI think of my blog which has not seen a post in many months, I am prompted to writeabout sports. In fact sports today takes up most of my time after work and workouts. But then, that would be the only thing to write about. Another thought that holds me back is that most of my readers, I think, would be 'Desi's or people of Indian origin. My attention for the past three years have been grabbed by the three American sports - football, basketball and baseball - in that order. Most of these sports don't make any sense to that group.

Most of the people that I see and interact with everyday are Desis or more specifically, Desis who like me have come to the United States after spending 20+ years in India. Judging from their reaction to my enthusiasm for American sports I have elicited the following conclusion - they think I am a wannabe. Sincerely, I do not put an effort into being controversial and confrontational, that's just my style. But, this reaction from the 'Indian Culture police' is actually an encouragement.They have branded me a turncoat because I have no idea what is going on in the world of cricket today. The Austrlian tour of India is raging and all I have to talk about is the Red Sox.

Yes, the Red Sox. The team under the curse. The ball club that has epitomized the irrational hopes of the Irish working class in the city of Boston. Even after eightysix years of disappointment the Red Sox nation chants, "This is the year". Two years ago when I came to this city, I was a fan of football and basketball. Regarding baseball, I was of the of the 'poorer cousin of cricket' opinion. But I think twenty four months of indoctrination can change anybody, and I was just a bored man in his late twenties - too old for the beach, too young to sit and read at a Cafe, and too single to do anything else. So my refuge was the couch,and baseball was always the politically correct thing to watch during summer.

Last year, in 2003 a few days into October, before the ALCS began, I convinced myself that I hate the Yankees. They were the filthy rich, who believed money could buy victory. I cnveniently forgot that Boston was second in the spending list. To me a victory for the Red Sox meant a triump of will over wealth. A defeat of the evil empire would be a source of hope of the world's oppressed and downtrodden. But the Red Sox effort came short. Game 7 - they blew a four run read in the seventh and lost in the 11th inning. The Yankee defeat in the World Series brought some relief, but the dream was still unachieved. Pre-season arms race and the barbs exchanged between the owners, all added to my excitement. The regular season saw hope rise, fall and rise again. After a perfect ALDS against the Angels, the Sox started their battle against the Yankees.

The first two games were comfortable wins for the Yankees. The starting pitching was subpar, the offence was in slumber. Then came the massacre at Fenway on the chilly Saturday evening on game 3. My friend and I were walking around Fenway only to see tearful faces leave the stadium unable to watch the bloodbath. Suddenly, it was a matter of salvaging some pride, let alone winning. Boston Manager Terry Francona said he was going to look at it one game at a time. "It starts looking a little daunting if you start looking at too big of a picture", he added. Every TV and radio station reminded that in the history of baseball no team had comeback from 0-3 defecit. Hell, nobody had even forced a game 7. Even one win seemed unlikely and the getting to the world series was ruled out even by the most optmistic fans. Then came two nights of bltizkrieg from the bat of David 'Papi' Ortiz. 6-4 win in Game 4. 5-4 in the 5th. Then Curt Schilling, the lead ace comes back with a stitched up ankle and shuts up fiftyfive thousand Yankee fans in the Bronx. It was turning out to be a miracle in the making - a game 7 in Yankee Stadium, with the breeze blowing in the Sox's favour. Through this week my life had been miserable. Every night I had to be awake till midnight, and even after the games were over, the styed back to watch what the managers and players had to say. I was reading the article on Sports sections of websites and newspapers over and over again. Here is something I noticed - a lot of people felt like the Sox was going to win. Even the poll on NY Daily News showed 48 % voting that the Sox would win. Figures from other cities when I checked were: Chicago 72%, LA 64%, Omaha 68% all in favour of the Sox. I even had a bet with my friends that I would shave half my beard off (I just didn't remind them that the bet didnot specify that the other half should remain intact).

I don't need to write in this blog what happened on Wednesday night. That is history. Now I wait for Saturday 8:00 to arrive when I'll be ready with pizza and beer. Bring on the Cardinals! Go Red Sox!

My project ends next Friday and I might have to leave the city of Boston very soon. If you have seen the hindi movie 'Thoda sa Rumani Ho Jaaye', you would understand when I say I feel like the 'Barishkaar'. This is the story of a conman who comes to a village suffering drought, promising rains. The movie ends with he scene where the Barishkaar walks away from the village watching the rain come down.

REVERSE THE CURSE