by Andrew Kavulich

Boston's hopes are high, understandably so
For Anaheim was no match, thanks to Ortiz's mighty blow
The nation believes, hoping this is the year
More heartbreak will surely bring one too many tears
An immense challenge ahead, for the Yankees are stout
But with the rotation lined up, victory can be carried out
So round one begins, Schilling takes the ball
Little did we expect him to bear a mighty fall
The hopes turn to Pedro, ace number one has been taken
But Lieber is grand, perhaps the believers mistaken
Millar bears the final out, and throws the bat in contempt
The two aces have fallen, Red Sox Nation now wept
In an 0-2 hole, Fenway's considered relief
But mired in a delay, rain foreshadows the grief
The Evil Empire takes the next one, nineteen to eight
Green monster is rattled, a 3-0 lead they did take
Game 3 is just a disaster, truly an eyesore
For the Yankees have a strangle hold, and need just one more
The issue is certain, is there even a doubt?
For the Sox are dejected, after such a mighty clout
New York is now happy, champagne is on ice
For in 2004 once more, Boston's curse is their vice
But lurking are the foolhardy, the senseless, the hairbrained
Who keep the faith, even in the face of 4 games
The challenge seems so immense, but an uprising is brewing
This last ounce of hope would be the Yankee undoing
The Sox have taken their punches, for sure down and out
But not so easily ended, is this heavyweight bout
So let it begin, the impossible task
All the while seeming just too much to ask
But the "idiots" scraped, they clawed, they fought
Will the efforts all end up for naught?
Then the most unlikely of heroes, does indeed arise
For a man named Roberts triggers the Yankee demise
Coming like a thief in the night, he takes 2nd base
Mueller blasts it up the middle, Mariano covers his face
With the game now tied, the innings move on
Any semblance of composure is now surely gone
Ortiz strolls to the plate, precious lumber in hand
Quantrill delivers, in the bullpen it lands
Sound the alarms! A revolt has begun!
Yankee nation cries "fluke!" But the wheels have now spun
Game 5 the same, Roberts brings a stalemate
And come the 14th, Ortiz opens the floodgates
Run! Johnny! Run!, Come home with haste!
Momentum has shifted, not a second to waste
A hero is born, with all the clutch hits
Now back to the Bronx, and the Yankees are pissed
At the stadium they're angry, and ready to rock
But 55,000 are silenced, with a certain bloody sock
The crimson pours through, with every drop legend grows
The events that commence, everyone knows
Bellhorn goes deep, A-Rod gets slappy
"Bush League!" they cry, the Sox are not happy
The miracle in sight, as Foulke slams the door
Game 7 is here, and we need just one more
The homers start dropping, the silence is eerie
Babe's ghost and Brown's back, now both are quite weary
Ortiz! Damon! Slug them to death!
Bellhorn joins the party, they are not done yet
Embree delivers, Pokey makes the play
To the World Series! They're indeed on their way
The miracle is completed. Down 3 games to none
Believe it or not, the pennant they've won.
Evil Empire has fallen, The Babe fell asleep
And from the Yankee crowd, we hear not a peep
Let the champagne pour, and the celebration commence
Lift high the trophy, for Boston's the best!
Take in the moment, and beam full with pride
Legends of the Fall, after such a wild ride
After years of pain, we can sit back and love it
For our heroes from Boston, they finally have done it