As Denton and I have noted several times over the past seven seasons, this site was born as a form of therapy — a way to get over the kick to the pills that was game seven of the 2003 ALCS. We needed a forum to vent, to cry, to shake our fists menacingly — or at least as menacingly as we can conjure — at the mountain of odds seemingly stacked against the Red Sox.
In short, we built it for us. But it’s the folks who’ve showed up day in and day out who’ve made SG what it is, whatever that is.
I had the pleasure of spending time with several of our comments section’s finest last night. And I couldn’t help thinking — in between wondering how I could filch Hayes’ iPad or convince SoxFanBackHome to run off to Switzerland with me — how cool it was that the people assembled there, some coming from as far as Texas and the Carolinas, might not have met had this blog never been born. These folks aren’t just names on a screen, they’ve become friends who have each other’s backs in the real world. And it’s been very, very cool to have played a small role in making that happen.
I can point to at least three couples that have been brought together through this site. On a slightly more salacious note, at least five people have gotten laid through connections made as a direct result of it. Not me or Denton, sadly, but we’re happy to do our part.
Last night at last call, listening to commenters extraordinaire Tex and Hayes explain how close they’ve grown through the past couple years, I made an observation: “Just think, none of this might have happened had Grady actually taken Pedro out when he should have in game seven of the 2003 ALCS.”
It was a bitter pill to swallow at the time. But looking back, and seeing all the cool things that came of it, I gotta give the guy his props.
So thanks again to everyone who makes this dumb-ass site a part of their daily routine. Whether or not Denton and I have ever met you, hoisted a drink with you, attempted to feel you up or drunkenly professed our love for you, we truly appreciate you.
And with that, naturally, it’s time to cue Mike Nesmith: