BLACK SUNDAY

There are a few days in my lifetime that I will carry with me to the grave as shining examples of all that is good and right and beautiful about the world. Sunday September 7th, 2003 is not one of those days. Suddenly and without warning, a day like any other in sunny Southern California, a Sunday no less, full of joy and promise, was sullied, destroyed, chewed up and stepped upon by the cruel spike-covered jack-boot of Fate. I am speaking of course, dear reader, of Black Sunday, the most monumentally disappointing and disasterous date in recent Boston sports memory. And it happened in the span of three measly hours. A short recap:

Coming into Sunday, your Boston Red Sox (I call them yours though they clearly belong to no man nor beast, but to the devil himself) were in high spirits, as were her fans, having revelled in back-to-back solid defeats of the Cursed New York Yankees at the Stadium. Visions of sweeps danced in our heads as the Sox, once 7 1/2 games back and out of the proverbial hunt, had closed the gap to a mere game and a half. Not in years have our beloved Sox, with September firmly under our feet, challenged the mighty Yanks to this degree, and the thought being just one out in the loss column after a Bronx Brooming was enough to put a hitch in any Sox fan’s giddyup. The first sign of trouble came fast: "Now pitching for the Boston Red Sox…Jeff…Suppan"…

And it was downhill from there. A pitching duel with Boomer Wells gave way to a late-inning mistake, a hanging change to Bernie Williams, and a 3-1 defeat. 2 1/2 back, 3 in the loss column, no more head-to-head meetings, Yankees win season series 10-9.

But far be it for the sports gods to leave the job of humbling Boston sports fans only half done. Oh no. For another battle was raging to the north, as the newly deposed Super Bowl Champion New England Patriots prepared to tee it up against the Buffalo Bills (aka Patriots North) who now boast the team captains ("Unfrozen Caveman" Lawyer Milloy and "Nancy" Drew Bledsoe) from the Patriots Super Bowl run two years ago. Spirits were high for both teams as the NFL season kicked off, but it didn’t take long before all New England fans knew where this game was headed. Faster than you can say "Now pitching for the Boston Red Sox…Jeff…Suppan" Buffalo had taken a commanding 21-0 lead from which the Pats(ies) would never recover.

Now this sad combination of heart-breaking defeat snatched from the jaws of victory and full-blown "goddamn we suck" disintigration would be enough to suck the hope out of any sports fan. But to Boston fans, this might as well have been the Apocalypse. If you don’t believe me, consult the foremost expert on the subject and the inspiration behind this post, Mr. Bill Simmons, on ESPN.com: http://espn.go.com/page2/s/simmons/030908.html or check out the Boston papers this morning.

Truly, this is not the end. September is just beginning. The Sox still have twenty-some-odd games before the season ends and could yet still rally to overtake the Yanks. Football season has just begun, and lest we forget that in their Super Bowl year the Pats lost 4 out of their first 5 before barrelling into the playoffs on an 8-game tear. But for one Sunday in September, it felt like Fall of ’86 again.

And I for one am scared shitless.