Devastating

As I sat in this very spot yesterday writing my predictions for the rest of the MLB season, I quickly flashed to ESPN.com to check my "Streak for the Cash" status...I never got to check it because my attention was immediately drawn to one line...Report: Ramirez and Ortiz test positive in 2003. Heartbroken, crushed, devastated. I couldn't muster the energy to even read the story, I just went back to the blog. I can't say I'm surprised, after all, David Ortiz was a nobody on the Minnesota Twins; in his six seasons in the Great White North, the most home runs he hit was 20. Flash forward to 2003 and he's blasting bombs onto Landsdowne Street like it's a softball game. He instantly became what we always wanted Mo Vaughn to be.

A few weeks ago, I blogged that I didn't much care anymore who tested positive for PED's, I just want to enjoy the game for what it is. Permit me to change that statement...I only care when it's my guy. And in this case, my guy was a Boston hero. Some in Beantown said his popularity was reaching that of Larry Legend, The Splendid Splinter and Ray Bourque. He, more than Johnny, Pedro, Tek, Manny or Schilling, symbolized that 2004 championship team. His big smile, his late-inning heroics, his seemingly always care free nature. He was what the Red Sox have always been about, the long ball...who the hell knows if the man could even field a ground ball, he could smash a belt-high fastball clean into the night and that's all that matter.

I'm glad my grandfather isn't around for this...sure, he'd probably shrug it off like most anything else the Red Sox did wrong, though deep down inside it would tear at his insides. He invested so much time into this team, bringing his family year in and year out to New Britain, Pawtucket and of course, Fenway. That week of the Yankees series back in 2004, he should not have still been alive, he never should have made it that far. But one team and the play of one man, Big Papi, kept his heart beating. I have such fond memories of those days...surrounded by Yankee fans in a dark dorm room, staying up till 1am, no women in sight...just the boys, some beers and playoff baseball. When it was all over, for once, I was not the one locking myself in my room...I called my grandfather and simply said, "We did it." It was a total team effort, but the catalyst was that big friendly giant with the great smile.

Are the championships tainted...I don't know, all MLB championships, records and statistics these days seem to come with some kind of asterisk. What I do know is this...on Monday of this week, I stationed myself on Van Ness Street right outside Fenway to catch the players coming into the ballpark. I sat for an hour in the hopes of seeing one man in particular...suddenly a white Volvo SUV drives by and one of the hundreds of people there with me, screams "He's in the back." When the truck stopped, out came the real-life Shrek...jeans, black shirt, shades and that smile...looking every bit the man that catapulted this historic franchise to greatness. I must admit, I now feel somewhat dirty cheering as loudly as I did when I saw him.

The whole story remains to be told, but this much is certain, when I hear "David Ortiz," I get that feeling, you know the feeling when you first see that picture of your ex-girlfriend with another guy...it takes a while to get used to, it hurts a bit, it stings, it takes your breath away for a second until you relax and realize that this is real life.

Big Papi, I still love you; it will just take me a while to relax and realize that this is real life.

Quick Hits
My condolences to the family of long-time Eagles Defensive Coordinator Jim Johnson...any Giant fan will tell you that nothing besides a seemingly-harmless screen pass to Brian Westbrook struck fear in the hearts of the Big Blue Faithful quite like one of those exotic, bring every single player including the beer guy blitzes that Johnson was famous for.

RIP JJ, the NFC East will miss you!