PHOENIX - Witnessing the unbridled joy and innocence of 49,589 Arizona Diamondback fans celebrating a World Series victory in one of the best Fall Classics ever, I felt one thing ...
Jealousy.
How come these people get to experience this feeling? Most of them didn't know who Curt Schilling was three weeks ago, now they get to watch their team win the World Series in their own ballpark.
As they rocked the BOB, singing ''We Are The Champions'' and ''Celebrate'' (I think the fans in the pool even stopped shooting hoops for a moment), I thought about the thousands of loyal, long-suffering legions back in New England. Why can't they enjoy this feeling? Just once.
It's been 83 years since the Red Sox won a World Series, which means there are only a handful of people still living who can remember what it was like to root for Babe Ruth and friends back in 1918. No region has fans who care more deeply about the local baseball team. And yet annually Boston's hopes are dashed and the dream implodes - never in more ugly fashion than in 2001.
Phoenix is warm and hospitable. The Valley had its own championship drought before winning the big one Sunday night. But the hardball gods aren't playing fair when the Sox continue to struggle while a four-year-old franchise wins the World Series.
I figured out why the souvenir shops at the BOB were jammed every hour of the Series. It's because Arizona fans just discovered their team and had to rush out to buy garb. In Boston, Sox fans already have all that stuff.
Not here. While the Red Sox are forever, the Diamondbacks are a temporary infatuation for the local population. They are like Hula-Hoops, pet rocks, Nehru jackets, and all other trends.
All the nice people who live here are, by definition, front-runners. There are hardly any second- and third-generation Arizonans (Native Americans being the great exception). Just about all of the Diamondback fans are transplants. They abandoned Boston, New York, Pittsburgh, and Chicago - said goodbye to the Sox, Yanks, Pirates, and Cubs - for the warmth, open space, and opportunity of the West. Nothing wrong with that. More power to 'em. But how come they get to have a World Series championship while Red Sox fans grow old and die without a taste of champagne?
Sunday night in the Valley felt exactly like 1997 in Miami when the Florida Marlins beat the Cleveland Indians in a thrilling seventh game (Craig Counsell appears to be the connection). The wrong team won. Back home in chilly Ohio, tortured Tribe folk wept while Floridians ordered pina coladas in South Beach and wondered why a baseball team was using the Dolphins' stadium.
OK, I'm an old fogey (my teenagers are already weary of Dad's ''back in the day'' tales), but so much of what's good about baseball is its history and how it connects us to the past. A World Series championship in Arizona violates the nature of the game. It's not supposed to be 80 degrees at game time for the seventh game of the World Series. You're supposed to have somebody like Yogi Berra, who caught Don Larsen's perfect game in '56, throwing out the first ball.
Whom do the Diamondbacks trot out on Old-Timer's Day? Jeff Suppan?
The championship of the baseball world in 2001 was won by a city in which the paper of record (Arizona Republic) felt obliged to feature a primer on ''Baseball 101'' to prepare folks for the World Series.
Granted, it goes against all of our instincts to root for the Yankees, and many Sox fans no doubt were happy to see the New York dynasty toppled, but raising Arizona to the top of the baseball heap goes against everything I love about the game.
Cincinnati, Cleveland, New York, Washington, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Philadelphia, Detroit, Milwaukee, Los Angeles, Baltimore, Oakland, Kansas City, Minneapolis, Toronto, Atlanta, and Miami are cities that have won the World Series since the last time Boston ruled the baseball world.
Now we add Phoenix, where they'll be parading with the World Series trophy tomorrow afternoon.
It's not fair. And I'm just a jealous guy.
By Dan Shaughnessy, Globe Columnist, 11/6/2001
This story ran on page E1 of the Boston Globe on 11/6/2001
© Copyright 2001 Globe Newspaper Company