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| Pop Goes Papi Myth |
| By courant.com |
| Published: 07/31/2009 |
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I went to the archives Thursday to find Jared Dolphin's e-mail from November 2004. A corrections officer at the Corrigan facility in Montville, Dolphin answered a request of our readers to describe what the Red Sox's first World Series title in 86 years meant to them. "There it was, the last out, and I don't mind admitting that I, a 30-year-old, 180-pound uniformed officer surrounded by a block full of thugs, wept like a baby," Dolphin wrote. "This was more than a game. This was every frustration I've ever felt being washed away. "Suddenly the block erupted. I bristled. It was pandemonium: whistling, shouting, pounding on sinks, doors, bunks, anything the cons could find. This chaos was against every housing rule in the book, so I jumped up, ready to lay down the law. But as I stood there looking around the block I felt something else. I felt hope. Here I was, less than 10 feet away from guys that will never see the outside of prison again. The guy in the cell to my immediate left had 180 years. But as I watched him scream and pound on the door I realized he and I had something in common. That night, hope and joy beamed itself into his dreary existence as well. "Instead of marching around the block trying to restore order I put my flashlight down and clapped. I applauded until my hands hurt. I was applauding the possibilities for the future. I was applauding dreams that had seemed just as impossible as the Sox victory." In his piece about the Red Sox team being named Sports Illustrated 2004 Sportsman of the Year, Tom Verducci wrote about Dolphin and about thousands of New England lives touched by the end of 86 years of suffering. There was innocence and redemption in the Red Sox story, bawdy hijinks and baseball heroics, something remarkable and everlasting for a grandpa in Maine, a nun in Boston, a fifth-grader in Providence, and yes, a Connecticut convict. All this passed through my mind Thursday after The New York Times reported that Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz were among the 104 players who tested positive for performance enhancing drugs in a 2003 survey test. There it is, Red Sox fans. The most feared power hitters in baseball, the ones who changed the course of a region's history, are juicers. Theo Epstein, Terry Francona and Ortiz each said they were "blindsided" by the news an hour before the Red Sox's 8-5 win over the A's at Fenway Park, but nobody should be blindsided by any of this anymore. The autumn of Red Sox deliverance was tainted and baseball's great stain isn't easily washed away. There has been plenty of giggling on Boston barstools and airwaves and in Internet chat rooms at the expense of Alex Rodriguez and his pathetic double talk, at the expense of the rock head Roger Clemens, Andy Pettitte, Jason Giambi and the Yankees. No more giggles. The Red Sox have lost their moral high ground. The fact is no club, no player, no fan can stand up, point the finger and say, "It was them! It wasn't us." It's us. Don't worry, Sox fans. Nobody is going to take away 2004 and 2007. What's at stake here isn't a trophy. What's at stake here is a man's reputation, a game's legitimacy and a region's greatest memory. In St. Louis — surprise — Manny shrugged his shoulders and told ESPN that Thursday's news wasn't a big deal. When you've just served a 50-game suspension for using a steroid masking agent that also helps to, uh, cork your bat, this day wasn't going to embarrass the dolt. No, it is the romance of 2004 and Big Papi that becomes a dying myth. And that's the part that hurts. The greatest baseball story ever told, at least the greatest since McGwire-Sosa, smells like a fraud. After a dramatic three-run homer to lead the Sox back Thursday, Ortiz said he'll find out why he tested positive and he will share the information. He said he will not hide. He has steadfastly denied using steroids and hated any suggestion that coming off them might have caused his plunge in performance the past year. He did allow that in 2007 he used to drink unregulated protein shakes from the Dominican Republic, unaware of their content. Maybe this will be his excuse, or maybe A-Rod's dog ate his homework. The fact remains Ortiz has been especially harsh in his rhetoric about steroid users. In spring training, he called for testing for everybody all year round and when asked what the punishment should be for the guilty, he said: "Ban 'em for the whole year." Read More. |
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