by John Powers
While the Sox didn’t come close to catching the Yankees (who won 114 games en route to another World Series ring), Boston did return to the playoffs for the first time in three years. “We made it, we made it,” exulted Martinez, hugging Duquette and dousing Vaughn and Garciaparra with champagne after Boston had beaten Baltimore to clinch a wild-card berth.
Again, the opponent was Cleveland, and this time the Sox sensed that they were in for a reversal of fortune. Martinez stifled the Indians and Vaughn whacked two homers and knocked in seven runs in an 11-3 slamdown at Jacobs Field. “This is just the start,” declared Dennis Eckersley after Boston had won its first postseason game since 1986. Everything was going the visitors’ way when Indians Manager Mike Hargrove and starting pitcher Dwight Gooden were ejected and the Sox took a 2-0 lead in the first inning of Game 2.
But the Indians battered Tim Wakefield to salvage a split, and when they cranked three homers off Bret Saberhagen and another off Eckersley in the ninth inning of the first Fenway game, the Sox suddenly found themselves on the brink of elimination. “Please, Jimy, please pitch Pedro,” Boston fans implored Sox Manager Jimy Williams as he walked toward the clubhouse.
Rather than use Martinez on three days’ rest, Williams opted for a fresh Pete Schourek, who’d been scooped up from Houston in August. “The bottom line is we’ve got to win two games,” said Saberhagen, “and Pedro can’t win them both.”
For seven innings of Game 4, Boston thought that it would even the series. Schourek was pitching a shutout and Garciaparra, who had a divisional series record 11 RBI, had put his team ahead with a leadoff homer in the fourth. When Tom “Flash” Gordon came in to wrap up things in the eighth, it seemed that the Sox would force a decisive fifth game with Martinez on the mound.
But Gordon, who’d strung together 43 saves in a row and hadn’t blown one since April, conceded a two-run double to David Justice that gave the visitors a 2-1 decision. If Red Sox third-base coach Wendell Kim hadn’t rashly waved home John Valentin for a damaging out in the sixth or if the autumnal wind hadn’t reduced Vaughn’s would-be tying homer to a Wall double in the eighth, Boston might have survived. “I’m pretty surprised it ended this way,” Valentin remarked as the Sox cleaned out their lockers. “I anticipated that we’d go far.” Instead the Indians earned a quixotic date with the Yankees. “There’s nothing to watch,” declared Garciaparra. “We won’t be there.”
THE LONG GOOD-BYE
In May 1999, the Red Sox were gearing up for their first hosting of baseball’s All-Star Game in 38 years. As far as the team was concerned, that summer’s All-Star festivities would also provide an opportunity to say a gracious good-bye to Fenway Park, then 87 years old.
“Fenway is a wonderful ballpark,” said John Harrington, chief executive officer of the Red Sox at the time. “But the sad truth is it’s economically and operationally obsolete. It just doesn’t allow us to compete like teams with modern ballparks do.”
What the Sox hoped to sell to fans, political leaders, and the public was a new Fenway Park built right next door to the old one, “with the intimate scale and feel of the old” but up to 30 percent larger with modern conveniences and revenue streams.
As head of the JRY Trust that controlled the team, Harrington wanted to replace the existing 33,871-seat park with a new facility for 45,000 fans. Plans called for it to be built on roughly 14 acres bordered by Boylston Street, Brookline Avenue, and Yawkey Way.
Residents of the Fenway neighborhood and ballpark preservationists demanded that the park not be razed, but renovated. Harrington said he had studied several renovation options and rejected all of them.
Said Dan Wilson, a leading member of a group called “Save Fenway Park” and a Boston lawyer: “The Red Sox will be throwing out their most important asset if they build a new ballpark.”
The Sox attempted to assuage that argument by offering plans to forever preserve parts of Fenway—a portion of the left-field wall, the 1912 brick entrance, and the entire infield—as a tourist attraction and open space.
After years of wrangling with city planners and park preservationists, the JRY Trust abandoned its new ballpark bid and put the team up for sale. Among the final five bidding groups in 2002, only the New England Sports Ventures group led by John Henry was committed to retaining the original ballpark. Interestingly, several of the options proposed by the Save Fenway Park contingent were ultimately implemented by Henry and his winning group, including the expansion of walkways and concession space inside the park, and the closing off of Yawkey Way to provide a game-day fan concourse.
Red Sox CEO John Harrington pointed out details of the proposed new Fenway Park to MLB commissioner Bud Selig (center) and Red Sox General Manager Dan Duquette (right) before the 1999 All-Star Game.
Nomar Garciaparra walked down the runway toward the Red Sox dugout with Red Sox Director of Communications Kevin Shea in 1998.
Boston was there in 1999, even after Vaughn decamped for Anaheim for $80 million over six years. Despite spending time on the disabled list with an uncooperative shoulder and squabbling with Duquette, Martinez won 23 games, including a one-hitter at New York in September. Though the Yankees, as usual, proved uncatchable, Boston did snare another wild-card spot for the playoffs and another meeting with the Indians.
After the Sox dropped the first two games of the divisional series in Cleveland—the second by an ugly 11-1 margin—they returned to Fenway facing extinction yet again. But they managed to stay alive with a pyrotechnic display in the seventh inning of Game 3, scoring six runs with two out on Valentin’s two-run, bases-loaded ground-rule double, rookie Brian Daubach’s three-run homer, and Lou Merloni’s two-on single, to secure a 9-3 triumph.
Few would have predicted the next day’s result, when the Sox literally put up telephone numbers in a 23-7 T-ball contest that drew them even. “Everything we threw up, they hit and where it came down, we weren’t standing,” observed Hargrove. No Boston team ever had punished as much horsehide in one October day. Three homers, two of them by Valentin, who knocked in seven runs. Twenty-four hits, including a dozen for extra bases. A 10-2 lead after three innings, 15-2 after four, 18-6 after five. “It’s a one-gamer now,” concluded Williams.
So the Sox headed back to The Jake for the finale with a most appropriate, yet least likely figure providing their deliverance. Martinez had lasted only four innings in the opener before straining his back trying to blow a fastball past strongman Jim Thome. “I didn’t know when Pedro could pitch again,” admitted Joe Kerrigan, the Sox pitching coach. But after the Indians had pummeled Saberhagen and Derek Lowe for eight runs in three innings, Martinez came out of the bullpen to hurl six scoreless innings and stake his compañeros to a 12-8 triumph that put them into the league championship series for the first time since 1990.
The club’s first postseason series victory since 1986 earned the Sox their first October date with the Yankees since the one-game 1978 playoff. “They better sweep us,” warned Valentin. “They better sweep us, baby.” By the time the Sox returned to Fenway, they were down two games after being edged, 4-3 and 3-2, in the Bronx, despite leading each night. They still had one defiant and glorious game left in them, though, and their 13-1 destruction of New York on Saturday afternoon delighted the full house, especially since it came at the expense of Clemens, who’d exchanged plumage for pinstripes in February.
A vendor offered soda (real New Englanders call it tonic) in July 1995.
Programs were hawked on Yawkey Way before the 1997 home opener.
The view from atop the Green Monster at sunset, with both the ballpark and Lansdowne Street packed.
A STAR AMONG STARS
Baseball’s All-Star Game frequently fails to live up to its hype. When Fenway Park hosted its third All-Star Game in 1999, the result was a 4-1 American League victory that featured zero home runs. But there will never be another sight like that of Ted Williams, who threw out the ceremonial first pitch, being engulfed by other baseball
greats, including Stan Musial, Willie Mays, Bob Feller, Hank Aaron, Bob Gibson, and Cal Ripken Jr., just to name a few.
The ovation was loud and long. “I thought the stadium was going down,” said Pedro Martinez afterward.
The moment made a lasting impression on Mark McGwire of the St. Louis Cardinals. “When you have a chance to meet one of the best hitters in the game,” said McGwire, “and you see tears running down his eyes because of the appreciation that the fans and all of us gave him, it becomes a very special time.”
Introduced as “the greatest hitter who ever lived,” Teddy Ballgame, 80, rode into Fenway on a golf cart. After a lap around the field, Williams was brought to the mound, where he was surrounded by both All-Star squads and 31 of the top 100 ballplayers in baseball history. It was without question the greatest assemblage of hardball talent ever gathered on any diamond. With a giant No. 9 stenciled into the outfield grass, and the ancient theater shaking on its foundation, Williams stood in front of the mound and delivered a strike to Carlton Fisk, the longtime Red Sox catcher and his soon-to-be fellow Hall of Famer.
The hero of the 1999 AL victory was Red Sox ace Pedro Martinez, who struck out five of the six batters to face him—Barry Larkin, Larry Walker, Sammy Sosa, McGwire, and Jeff Bagwell—and was voted the game’s MVP. But even Pedro took a backseat to Williams.
“I don’t think that there will be any other man that’s going to replace that one,” said Martinez.
“It was like something out of Field of Dreams,” said Cleveland’s Jim Thome.
Said a young woman in the stands, “Oh, my God. Ted Williams threw a pitch to Carlton Fisk. I’m going home happy.”
Valentin’s two-run homer in the first was the opening shot in a barrage that put Boston up, 6-0, after three innings and put New York starter Clemens out of the game. “Where is Roger?” the fans chanted gleefully in the seventh inning, when the lead had soared to 13-0 and Martinez still was throttling the visitors. “In the shower.” It was the worst beating that the Yankees ever had taken in October and it made owner George Steinbrenner dyspeptic. “This can happen once,” he told his players in the clubhouse, “but it can’t happen again.”
New York turned the tables emphatically on Sunday night with a 9-2 victory that put Boston on the brink. Everything turned on a bad call by umpire Tim Tschida, who allowed an inning-ending double play in the eighth with Boston trailing, even though Yankees second baseman Chuck Knoblauch missed tagging José Offerman after fielding Valentin’s weak grounder. “No, I didn’t make the right call,” admitted Tschida. The furious crowd had agreed, littering the diamond with bottles in the ninth after Williams was ejected from the game for tossing his cap in the air.
As both teams were sent to their dugouts during an eight-minute delay, public address announcer Ed Brickley informed the spectators that the game would be forfeited unless order was restored. When play resumed, the Yankees ended things emphatically as pinch hitter Ricky Ledee hit a grand slam off Rod Beck. “It’s the first one to win four and it’s not over yet,” Williams declared in a statement while remaining secluded in his office.
But New York made sure of it a day later, clinching the series in five games with a 6-1 victory that produced its 36th pennant and set the stage for another Series ring. “We wanted to finish it here,” said Derek Jeter, who hit a two-run homer off Kent Mercker in the first inning. “We didn’t want to give them any life or confidence.”
While the Yankees sprayed each other with nonalcoholic champagne, the Sox, who’d had their best season in 13 years, were philosophical in defeat. “There’s nothing for us to hang our heads about,” Garciaparra proclaimed. “Disappointed? Of course. Any year we don’t win the World Series, I’m disappointed. But I’m not going to hang my head.”
Pedro Martinez argued his case to manager Jimy Williams in the Red Sox dugout on August 14, 1999. Williams had refused to let the late-arriving Martinez start the game; instead, he went with Bryce Florie. Martinez pitched the last four innings and Boston came away with a 13-2 victory over Seattle.
2000s
A lot more changed around Lansdowne Street and Yawkey Way in the 2000s than the millennium, as the Red Sox reached heights of success that had been seen only in the ballpark’s infancy, but not before yet another wrenching October setback. The Yawkey Trust put the team up for sale in 2001, and the new ownership group led by John Henry immediately promised to keep the Red Sox in Fenway Park for the foreseeable future. With that commitment (and the $700 million price tag) quickly came imaginative expansion of the seating that retained the charm and historic character of the park. In addition, after decades of relative quiet on all but 81 days a year, the doors were thrown open, and over the course of the emerging 2000s, Fenway became the scene of concerts, family and charity events, soccer games, citizenship ceremonies—even ice hockey games. Fenway retained its starring role as the Red Sox began a record sellout streak for major professional sports, but soon it was forced to share the spotlight when a bunch of scruffy underdogs took New England and Red Sox Nation on the wildest ride in postseason sports history. The self-proclaimed Idiots of 2004 won the final eight games of the postseason, many in heart-stopping fashion, to end 86 years of often excruciating frustration. The Sox went on to capture postseason berths in an unprecedented six out of seven seasons through the decade, while adding a second World Series sweep. In the process, they emphatically abandoned the label of front-runners who ultimately lost and took up the mantle of masters of come-from-behind victory. To wit, over three American League Championship Series, the Red Sox won nine consecutive games when facing elimination, going on to win two of the series and losing the third in Game 7. Curse foiled, again and again.
With the new millennium and the club’s 100th season at hand, the Red Sox made two blockbuster announcements in 2000: there would be both a new ballpark and new ownership. Despite Fenway’s quirky charm and rich history, it was the oldest and smallest facility in the major leagues. “If we do nothing,” chief executive John Harrington declared in a Globe op-ed column on May 25, “we will be left behind.”
By the end of July, the front office, state, and city had agreed on a $665 million project, with nearly half of it to be publicly funded. The site, though, was undetermined, with management preferring the South Boston waterfront and Mayor Thomas Menino preferring the Fenway neighborhood. Meanwhile, the team was engaged in its annual battle—trying not to be left behind by the Yankees.
With Pedro Martinez and Nomar Garciaparra on track to retain their Cy Young and batting crowns, the Sox were in first place as late as June 22. But they faded during the summer and essentially were finished off on September 10 after the Yankees swept them at Fenway for the first time since 1991.
So the Sox finished second in the division for the third straight time and the Yankees went on to win their third consecutive World Series. And five days after the season ended, the For Sale sign went up on a franchise that had borne the Yawkey name since the Depression.
While Harrington wanted the next owner to be “a diehard Red Sox fan from New England,” management estimated that it would take at least a year to have a buyer step forward and be approved.
In the interim, the Sox were under pressure to close the gap between them and their pinstriped overlords in 2001. So the front office lured away Manny Ramirez from the Indians with an eight-year deal worth $160 million, the fattest contract in franchise annals and second only in all Major League Baseball to the $252 million deal that Alex Rodriguez signed with the Rangers that same day.
“I’m just tired of seeing New York always win,” said Ramirez, who grew up in Washington Heights, not far from Yankee Stadium, but who enthusiastically chugged a symbolic cup of chowder during his Fenway introduction. Ramirez, acquired for his prodigious ability to drive in runs, knocked in three against Tampa Bay in his new team’s home opener. That came just two days after right-hander Hideo Nomo had celebrated his Sox debut in Baltimore with a no-hitter, the first by a Bosto
n hurler since 1965. So the fans began dreaming about October in April.
But as Martinez, Garciaparra, and Jason Varitek all struggled with injuries, things went sour in midsummer. Jimy Williams was replaced by Joe Kerrigan, the pitching coach, and the season came apart in late August with an 18-inning loss at Texas. The club lost 12 of its next 13 games, the death knell coming at Fenway with a weekend sweep by the Yankees. “We don’t have a monkey on our back,” Red Sox outfielder Trot Nixon muttered. “We’ve got a goddamned gorilla on our back.”
A “Save Fenway Park” mural outside the State House in Boston drew signatures from fans of all ages.
A Red Sox groundskeeper scaled the ladder to the top of the Green Monster to retrieve baseballs hit into the netting during batting practice.
At season’s end, Boston was 13½ games behind New York and the collapse set the stage for a massive transformation before the 2002 season that featured new ownership, a new GM, and a new manager. The biggest change came in December when a group headed by Marlins owner John Henry bought the franchise from the Yawkey Trust for $700 million, more than twice the previous record paid for a Major League Baseball team.
It was the first time since 1933 that the club had been sold.
Henry, who gave up his Florida Marlins stake, took over as the club’s principal owner, while former San Diego owner Tom Werner became chairman, and former San Diego and Baltimore chief executive Larry Lucchino assumed the role of president.
