my david ortiz moment
i am not exactly sure when did i become a red sox fan. i certainly wasn’t old enough to fully grasp the pain that the Curse of the Bambino had on the team — i was 8 years old when David Ortiz and the group of idiots broke the curse. when aaron boone hit the walk-off home run against the sox that ultimately sent the yankees to the world series in 2003, i was only seven years old but the pain felt real back then. my dad as the die-hard yankees fan he has always been, said that it was on par with how the red sox have been since before he was born and i was still on time to change teams. “si no, acostúmbrate a verlos perder, los yankees siempre van a ganarles al final.”
rodrigo barely started getting into baseball a year or so ago, so there are a lot of details and history about the sport that he doesn’t understand. we went to an Orioles/Sox game about five or six years ago and Mookie Betts hit four home runs and didn’t even become a fan back then. my emotional rants about fernando tatís jr., Shohei Ohtani, the Sox, the Yankees getting Giancarlo Stanton and ALWAYS watching a weird game whenever we are together is what brought him in. therefore, he likes to ask a lot of questions about events that i’ve lived through as a red sox fan. and of course i love to ramble about David Ortiz’ heroics in the playoffs, Pedro Martínez’ greatness even before i was born and Dustin Pedroia being the heart and soul of the team after they broke the curse. he knows my whole family (at least the ones that enjoy baseball) is deeply fond of the yankees and he doesn’t understand why i went the opposite way. “it has a lot to do with the fact that i grew up watching both teams closely, but for a kid the Red Sox were certainly more enjoyable to watch. you had Manny being Manny with his threads, the weird high fives and timely funny moments, Kevin Youkilis looking like a fucking plumber hitting mammoth home runs and of course David Ortiz. on the other hand, you had Alex Rodríguez, Derek Jeter, Jorge Posada, Alfonso Soriano, Mariano Rivera, Andy Pettite and the rest looking like fucking tools, boring robots. I was a kid, which side was I supposed to choose? the fun, kooky, silly one or the Evil Empire?”
truth of the matter is that outside of the amusing sillyness the Red Sox had back then, what Truly pulled me in was 2004. as i said, i was too young to understand what it meant that the Yankees were up 3–0 and an inning away from the World Series. when Mariano Rivera took the mound to close the game, i could only think of my dad’s words the year before. as a kid you hate to watch your team lose, why was I doing this to myself? i’m not from boston and it only made sense i’d grow up to be a Yankees fan given the circumstances. when Rivera walked Millar, i asked my dad if the Diamondbacks were still good. the 2001 World Series between the Yankees and Diamondbacks is the first one I truly remember because of how astonished my dad was. Arizona won Game 7 in a walk-off hit against Rivera and I sort of became a fan of them, but not really. in Game 4 of the 2004 ALCS i asked him about them because i was so ready to jump ship. in my young and vulnerable eight years of life, the Diamondbacks were the only team I saw beat the Yankees so it only made sense i’d start rooting for them. but then everything changed. Millar walked, Dave Roberts pinch-ran, stole a base, Mueller brought him home and the game went to extra-innings. “deberías de dormirte, esto ya se va a acabar.” two or three innings later, David Ortiz hit a walk-off home run and the Sox were now down 3–1. the next night had the same story to tell, Ortiz hitting another walk-off home run and the Sox being down 3–2. then Schilling with his problematic heroics tied the series and my dad couldn’t believe it. he was livid the days after Game 5, he knew what was coming. even as a die-hard Yankees fan, he knew something special was brewing. Ortiz hit another important home run in Game 7, the Sox came back from 0–3 to win a trip to the World Series and swept the Cardinals to win the whole thing for the first time in 86 years, for the first time in my dad’s lifetime and mine as well. I couldn’t fucking believe it! the Sox fucking did it! Manny hit 6 or 5 home runs in the World Series, Ortiz probably did his thing but to be honest I don’t remember much from it because the True World Series was beating the Yankees when they were down 0–3.
the rest is obviously history. i was a die-hard Red Sox fan the rest of my childhood, teenage years and early adulthood. it was mostly because of Ortiz, because he made the improbable possible and I was in awe every time he stepped into the plate. whether the game didn’t matter or not was not important to me, I felt something magical whenever I saw Ortiz bat. it all stems from that October in 2004, the child’s fever dream i lived when they came back and won the World Series. it’s a moment I have never felt before since, even if I truly didn’t live through the curse and the Sox have been one of the most succesful teams in baseball since I was born. only Giants’ fans can claim the same thing, but the highs and lows do not belong in the same history book. the Astros are getting closer — i do not care about the Astros cheating at all, they hold a very special place in my heart.
time went on and caught up with David Ortiz’ feet and back, he retired and the Red Sox fielded one of the truly best baseball teams I have ever seen in 2018. that year is probably one of the happiest of my life because of how many changes i went through and all the people I met, and the Sox winning it all then was the ideal ribbon on the perfect gift that year was. it’s truly the last time i was genuinely happy, the stars aligned perfectly to produce the most authentic joy i have felt in a long time. and it was all without Ortiz.
but as my days in El Paso are coming to an end, I wish I could ask David Ortiz how he pulled it off. how whenever he had his back against the wall like I do now, he came through in the clutch. because these days are more than dreadful and hurt my heart in a way I didn’t know it was possible. there are still some escapes I have, some ways I can come back with a new visa in a matter of weeks and I won’t have to be in Chihuahua for more than two or three weeks. but i am so fucking scared, every day has felt like a knife pushing deep into my chest since leaving El Paso became a possibility, let alone a reality.
when rodrigo and i were talking about this last week, he said “well, this is your david ortiz. the opportunities are there, you just need to seize them and hit with your big swinging dick like he did”. and i know i have to do exactly that. i am down 0–3 against the Yankees. the last few months have felt like I’ve lived through a curse bigger and longer than the Sox had to endure for almost a century. and yet, here i am. hoping for the best. i know the people who are aware of my situation are rooting for me, making me feel some kind of support that i didn’t know i had. friends have covered my rent and bills without me asking, old acquaintances have reached out to help out and put in a good word for me wherever they can, pretty much everyone (but Sophie) has been of help lately. at least the people that I know truly care about me more than what I can say or bring to their life. but still, i am down 0–3. i will step to the plate again next week and if i can get on base, the game will be tied and if i find whatever turned David Ortiz into an immortal figure, I will tie it, and if I can channel whatever made me fall in love with baseball, I will win the game and come back. not everything is up to me, but if i play my cards right, things will work out. perhaps i just need to be patient and rest, perhaps life works in ways i will never understand but it is up to me to live through them.
but it hurts, you know? it feels more like my Frances Ha rather than my David Ortiz moment. maybe it’s just a mix of both.
