My first impulse was to cry. As Adam Vinatieri’s kick flew through the uprights and Patriots fans poured into the streets of Boston, I started to cry.
I’m a New England boy, raised in Center Harbor, NH (pop. 900), and I’ve spent 19 years rooting on my teams.
I grew up watching sports. My parents, both Massachusetts natives, raised my two sisters and me right, rooting on the Bruins, Celtics, Red Sox and Patriots faithfully.
Along with following contemporary sports, I’ve always had an affinity for learning about athletic history. For me, Boston, the original American city, has been always been a source of great interest. Certain images and certain phrases, good and bad, professional and collegiate, are ingrained in Boston sports lore.
On the diamond: Carlton Fisk waiving his 11th inning home run fair against the Reds in the ’75 World Series; Bucky Dent, a scrawny backup second baseman, trotting around the bases at Fenway in ’78 after his homer cleared the Green Monster to beat the Sox in a one-game playoff; Tony Conigliaro taking a fastball to the cheek in the Impossible Dream season of ’67; and, of course, Buckner letting Mookie Wilson’s ground ball scoot through his legs at Shea during the ’86 Series.
At the Garden: Johnny Most yelling, “Havlicek stole the ball, Havlicek stole the ball;” Kevin McHale punching Kurt Rambis during the ’84 NBA Finals; Larry Bird hitting clutch shot after clutch shot with the unique arrogance and swagger of an Indiana farm boy to lead the Celtics back to glory and three world titles; Bobby Orr flying through the air, beating Glenn Hall and the St. Louis Blues to capture the 1970 Stanley Cup.
In the collegiate ranks: Doug Flutie’s 1984 Hail Mary to knock the mighty Miami Hurricanes out in Chestnut Hill; Travis Roy tragically becoming paralyzed at Walter Brown Arena in 1995; any BU/BC contest, any Beanpot, any Harvard/Yale game.
Lately, however, Boston has hit a dry spell. Of the 13 events I mentioned previously, I actually remember only three (Travis Roy, a couple Harvard/Yale games and a few BU/BC battles).
But I’ve remained faithful, as has the whole city.
Each spring is filled with hope and prognostication, as we assure ourselves that the Sox will exorcise whatever ghosts might haunt Fenway. Each fall, we hope the Leprechaun will return and the Celtics will return to the glorious days of Bird, McHale and Parish, and before them, Russell and Cousy. We hail Joe Thornton and Byron Dafoe and fully believe they will bring the Stanley Cup back to Boston.
People have told me I’m too emotionally involved with sports, especially the Boston teams. They don’t understand why I root for a baseball team that hasn’t won a championship since 1918, a hockey team that last won a Stanley Cup in 1972, a basketball team that hasn’t even made the playoffs since 1995 and a football team that, until Sunday night, had never won a Super Bowl.
I devoutly follow my teams, but by no means am I different than other Boston fans. We are fiercely loyal to our teams, as evidenced by the hero’s welcome Ray Bourque received last June when, as a member of the Colorado Avalanche, he brought the Stanley Cup back to Boston.
This loyalty, however, is not without limits. Fenway fans boo former Red Sox hurler Roger Clemens each time he returns as an opponent. Clemens violated the Cardinal Rule: if you leave, don’t sign with the Yankees.
My devotion, as with that of my fellow Boston fans, is perhaps a product of necessity. Our four teams are shared by five states: Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Connecticut and, of course, Massachusetts.
Our situation stands in sharp contrast to places like New York, where people choose between the Giants and Jets; the Yankees and Mets; the Devils, Islanders and Rangers, and finally, between the Knicks and Nets.
But to call our loyalty a product of necessity is unfair. If, by some unfortunate twist of fate, I am someday forced to live in New York, I won’t become a Yankees fan. I’ll stay true to Boston and root on my boys from afar.
No, our city’s sports scene is not due to necessity. It’s a city of tradition and history: of Flutie and Drury, of Bird and McHale, Nomar and Pedro, of the Garden and Foxboro, of the center field bleachers and Cask N’ Flagon. And now, we can add to that list Vinatieri and Tom Brady. Probably the whole Patriots team has etched itself in the annals of Boston sports history. Certain teams have always stuck out as special: the ’67 Sox, the ’70 Bruins and the ’86 Celtics.
Last night, Boston, a city inextricably linked to both athletic and political history, won a long-overdue championship.
I cried, and the celebration continued.
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