This letter is for everyone in Boston who's 10 years old or younger:
Okay, kids, sit down. Pour yourself a nice glass of milk. Eat a delicious Green Monster cookie. Eat two!
Your carefree childhood is on the verge of being rocked.
You may not realize it, but you've been spoiled rotten. It's not your fault. But you've been historically lucky, and the cosmic bill is way past overdue.
If you are a 10-year-old Boston sports fan, you have seen remarkable, glorious things. You have seen two Red Sox World Series titles, three Patriots Super Bowl trophies, a Celtics NBA title, and a Bruins Stanley Cup.
But that's not Boston.
That's a bizarre fantasyland. You are residing in a utopian city where every team wins, almost all of the time, and there's at least one giant Duck Boat parade every couple of years. You've got a closet full of championship hats. Your arm is sore from throwing confetti.
It's been a beautiful sport daydream, flush with happy memories. Manny and Big Papi sweeping the Cardinals and the Rockies. A former back-up QB, Tom Brady, hoisting two Super Bowl MVPs. Kevin Garnett screaming on the parquet floor in ecstasy. Tim Thomas stonewalling Vancouver in Game 7.
You think that's Boston? You have no idea.
Do you know what it used to be like for sports fans from Boston? Ask your mom. Ask your dad. Ask your grandparents. But pour them a tall bourbon first.
For generations, Boston was a city defined not by its sports triumphs, but its failures. It was always a compelling pro town, full of loyal, diehard fans and athlete legends, but the collapses were frequent and brutal.
Bucky Dent's home run. Bill Buckner's legs. Too many men on the ice. Bears 46, Patriots 10.
Wait: you don't even know who Bucky Dent is, do you? Sheesh.
Before you were born, Boston fans expected the worst. Next year was always the year, but this year always belonged to somebody else. Boston did have Larry Bird and the Celtics—thank goodness for the Celtics—but the rest of the calendar was agony and heartbreak. (Then the Celtics vanished, too.)
Do you know what it means to suffer? Have you ever pounded your head against the wall for an entire off-season?
Have you ever opened a window and shouted out into a darkened street, "WHHYYYYY?"
Boston used to think its Red Sox were cursed, and that it all stemmed from the infamous trade of Babe Ruth to the Yankees.
Wait. You've never heard of Babe Ruth?
You've never experienced true Boston sports anguish. Don't give us a sob story about the 18-0 Patriots losing in the Super Bowl. That was a breeze. And yeah, a few of you maybe saw Aaron Boone's homer off Tim Wakefield in the 2003 ALCS. One season later, you witnessed the first Boston World Series victory in 86 years.
But now you're getting a delicious taste of some old-school Boston panic.
The Red Sox are melting down. In two weeks, they have coughed up a sturdy nine-game lead in the American League wild card race. After Sunday's 8-5 loss to the Tampa Rays, they are just two games up.
They've lost 13 of 17 games in September. The discount Rays took six of seven off them in a week.
Now the city is freaking. Fenway Park is quieter than a tomb. Those Red Sox fans—so ecstatic for almost a decade—look as forlorn and hollow-eyed as their '70s and '80s forebears.
Home is starting to feel tense, isn't it, kids? Mom shuts off the TV in the middle of an inning. Dad's smoking Winstons on the porch. When the Sox make a pitching change, Grandpa kicks the coffee table and announces he has to "walk the dog."
Grandpa doesn't have a dog.
It's a crueler, nervous world. Boston's no longer chattering about playoff tickets and singing "Sweet Caroline" in Fenway with a comfortable six-run lead. The Red Sox are reaching into your belly, yanking at your guts.
Don't be afraid, kids. Breathe it in. Embrace the pain. It's in your DNA.
And don't look elsewhere for sympathy. Other cities are sick of Boston's sports domination. People think you're bratty and entitled. They're tired of Boston fans invading stadiums and Internet message boards and acting like they invented winning. You were once lovable losers. Lovable winners? Not so much.
Now it's possible the Red Sox will escape and slip into the playoffs. The Rays have lots of games left with the first-place Yankees. Boston seemingly gets a break with a bunch against the JV Orioles.
But even a small humbling will be healthy for you. It will toughen you up, teach you what prior generations endured and make you appreciate it the next time your team wins.
And there is some positive news, kids:
Welcome to Boston! You finally made it.
