Me, my dad and the Dominicans: Boston in the 2004 World Series

Every day during the World Series La Vida Baseball will showcase a great Latino moment in World Series history. Today’s piece is about what it means to watch someone like you – and your dad – in the World Series.

By Dario Collado

I was and am a Boston Red Sox fan. But growing up the 1980s and living in Lawrence, Mass., my fandom meant I was guaranteed two feelings: heartbreak and disappointment. I was seven when that ground ball went through Buckner’s legs. Watching us snatch defeat from the jaws of victory set me up for what seemed like a lifetime of misery.

None of it really mattered. We revered our guys as icons with whom we were on a first-name basis: Manny, Pedro and Big Papi. As a Dominican-American, Red Sox baseball spoke to my identity. My dad, however, was Dominican-born. We’d sit together, as if in church, watching Pedro pitch. Never at Fenway, always in front of the TV. I didn’t go to my first game at the park until I was 16 and even then it was with a high school friend.

Our time together, bathed in the warmth and light of the tube, created a bond between me and my dad that was otherwise separated by differences that seem small now.

My dad passed away in June of 2002 due to cancer. It was right after I finished college at UMass-Amherst. Around that time, I sat next to his hospital bed as we watched Pedro pitch a gem and Manny hit a home run. He swore the Red Sox would never win a World Series in his lifetime.

If only he knew how close he came to being wrong.

The next year was that 2003 ALCS game against the Yankees when we thought that this could be our year, but then Aaron Boone happened. But we still had Manny, Pedro and Big Papi. Dominicans were getting it done.

During the 2004 World Series, I’m living and working in Washington, D.C. I followed my team as a hopeless romantic thinking, as always, that maybe this was it.

Again in front of the TV, I’m watching the Red Sox. It’s the fourth game of the Fall Classic against the St. Louis Cardinals. In my apartment there’s a lit candle. This team felt different. Different than the 86 years of feeling cursed. The past was about to be the past and we were about to embrace our future.

Then it happens. Keith Folke records the last out and we were finally World Series Champions. I cried in that moment. The feeling of accomplishment was unreal. I thought of my dad, whom I pictured in heaven celebrating with a glass of Black Label.

The candle on the table stayed lit through a brisk October night and into the morning.

The Red Sox made history again in 2007 and then once more in 2013. I was fortunate to attend Game Six when we won it all at Fenway Park. To this day, it remains one of the greatest sporting events I have had the privilege of attending.

Three World Series championships in 15 years. As I watch the Red Sox take on the LA Dodgers during this year’s World Series, I think about the way the kids in Boston now are basking in glory, but things were never this sweet back in the day.

Still, watching someone like you, someone with your background, compete at this level? Whether it’s Pedro, Manny and Big Papi or Rafael Devers and Eduardo Núñez, it’s the same feeling.

If my dad was here, he’d tell you.

Baseball just has a way of playing with your emotions.

Dario E. Collado is the Director of Strategic Development for the Hispanic Heritage Foundation in Washington, DC. He can be reached at dario@hispanicheritage.org

Read our full set of World Series moments to see how our favorite players performed on the game’s biggest stage.

Oct. 22: Sergio Romo
Oct. 23: Luis Gonzalez
Oct. 24: Ozzie Guillén
Oct. 25: Edgar Rentería
Oct. 26: Roberto Clemente
Oct. 27: David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez, Pedro Martínez