Buying One for the Team

Just so you know, the Red Sox are going to win the World Series this year, and it has nothing to do with the fact that they won an impressive, emotional Opening Night game against the Yankees on Sunday.

In truth, the reason for my certainty stems from a small, seemingly insignificant purchase made ninety minutes before the first pitch was thrown.  

You see... I bought a hat.

It looks just like the one on the right, and let me be clear... there is nothing special about this particular hat. I already have two different Red Sox hats in the traditional "navy and red" color scheme, but since losing my Celtics hat about a year ago, I had wanted a black baseball cap with green on it to wear on those days when navy/red didn't quite make the sartorial cut. However, I bought this piece of headgear for a reason that went far beyond rounding out my neck-up wardrobe.

On a Friday in the Spring of 2004, less than a year after moving back to Massachusetts from Los Angeles, I had a job interview in Boston in the late morning and had found myself with a ticket to the home opener. Friday afternoon games at Fenway are rare at best, but with no full-time gig, I was free to attend. However, with no place to change out of my interview duds, I felt deeply overdressed for a ballgame, so I stopped and bought a Red Sox hat to wear to the park. Support the team and look like less of a dork at the game. Win-win.

There was no third "win" that day, as the Sox went on to lose the game when their bullpen imploded in the eight and ninth. But that was okay, because less than seven months later, the Red Sox had won their first World Series title in 86 years in a magical run that included coming back against the Yankees in the ALCS after being down three-games-to-none, something that had never been done before. (yes, I am, by state law, required to mention those details in any account of the 2004 World Series title.)

For the record, at no point during that season did I think my hat had anything to do with it.

In 2007, I went with my family and folks to Ft. Myers, FL, for a vacation from the New England winter and to see the first few days of Red Sox Spring Training. It was a popular destination, as the Red Sox had just signed heralded import named "Matsu-something." (remember when we were convinced he was our ace for another half-decade?) On the day we arrived at the Red Sox facility, we had to wait 20 minutes for the shuttle bus to take us to where the team was training, but there was a souvenir shop that was open. Hazel got a mini-bat, and 18-month-old Teddy got something that wasn't a choking hazard. I, on the other hand, was attracted to the team's Spring Training cap, which looked like a slightly updated version of the classic, with a pair of red vents on the side. We paid our money, I broke in the new cap, and we went off to watch the pitchers and catchers practice fielding bunts. Again, the fairy tale came true that Fall as the Sox brought home another World Series Championship.

I swear, I didn't make the connection about the hat at the time. I was too busy celebrating and thanking the Almighty for letting me see that moment twice in a lifetime after several generations of Sox fans didn't get to experience it even once.

But this past off-season, as I looked at my hats sitting next to each other on the shelf in my closet, the parallels hit me. And even though I am no longer the outrageously superstitious (and let's face it, narcissistic) young man who used to think that the fate of his favorite team rested with what he wore or where he was watching the game, it gave me pause.

I had bought two Red Sox hats since moving back to the East Coast and only those two, each right before going to see the Sox, in person, for the first time of the year... and both of those years ended in abject jubilation.

Crazy? Certainly. A coincidence? Most assuredly. A fluke I could dismiss and ignore? Not on your life.

Thus, when I was invited to Opening Night by my good friends Mary and Josh, I went to Fenway with a mission. Before I even considered stepping foot within the 98-year-old ballpark, I took a right turn into the team shop and picked myself out a new chapeau, which I purchased, donned, and wore for all nine innings of Sunday's glorious victory over the defending world champs. Will I wear it next time I go? Maybe... maybe not. Doesn't really matter, because I've done what I can to improve the fortunes of the team already.

Is the 2010 World Series officially in the bag for the Red Sox? No.No it's not.

It's in the hat.