The 20th anniversary of the Boston Red Sox title: A night that has lasted a lifetime

I’ve spent portions of six decades and more than 50 years — 43 of them as a staff reporter and editor — writing about sports for the Cape Cod Times. My first byline was as a teenager in 1970. Guilty as charged: I’m old.

And yup, I’ve seen some things.

I was privileged to spend the publisher's money being a witness to memorable moments. There was championship boxing in Las Vegas, New Orleans, Atlantic City and New York; Masters golf at Augusta National and the U.S. Open at Baltusrol; spring training in Florida; America’s Cup yachting in Newport; Baseball Hall of Fame ceremonies in Cooperstown; more golf at the Ryder Cup in Brookline; World Cup soccer in Foxboro.

And, of course, many times chronicling championships in Boston.

Regrets, I’ve had a few … but then again, too few to mention.

However, when often asked to choose a singular highlight from all those days and nights, my mind’s eye and memories flash back to exactly 20 years ago — 2004 — when I was close to home.

It was late October, and I was at my desk at 319 Main St. in the newsroom at the Times in downtown Hyannis.

Truck Day

It’s February now, and winter’s grip continues, but baseball’s spring training is near. The calendar will soon promise better days.

Truck Day in Boston is Monday when a Red Sox trailer stuffed with hopes, dreams and equipment departs Fenway Park for Fort Myers, Florida. The overhyped, manufactured revelry and reverence are enough to make you feel warm all over.

Wally the Green Monster and sister Tessie will probably lead the parade. Full throttle all the way down I-95. Perhaps strains of “Sweet Caroline” will also fill the air. “So good, so good …”

But don’t be fooled.

From this vantage point, the prospects for the Red Sox in 2024 appear bleak. They have finished in last place in the American League East two years in a row, three of the last four, and six times in the last 12 seasons.

To be fair, the Sox also won the World Series twice in those dozen years (2013, 2018), but that feels like a lifetime ago. Just one player, Rafael Devers, remains from the ‘18 champions.

The Sox were 78-84 last season and a whopping 23 games behind the division champion Baltimore Orioles. The Hot Stove offseason in Boston has been lukewarm and underwhelming.

Flashback to 2004

But enough negativity. Let’s bring some sunshine to a dreary day. Let’s not ponder an uncertain future at Fenway and, instead, be among the first to reflect, remember, and rewind as Bob Seger provides the soundtrack …

20 years now, where'd they go? / 20 years, I don't know / I sit and I wonder sometimes / Where they've gone. 

And sometimes late at night / Oh, when I'm bathed in the firelight / The moon comes callin' a ghostly white / And I recall, I recall.

Indeed, it was 20 years ago, Oct. 27, 2004, a Wednesday evening that would roll into Thursday morning. The moon didn’t come callin’ a ghostly white but rather blood red. It was a total lunar eclipse.

It was also the night the Red Sox won the World Series.

First, a little perspective.

Boston fans of a certain age — oh, let’s say about 40 and younger — have been spoiled. Since the Patriots captured their first Super Bowl in 2001, there have been a dozen championship parades: five more for the Pats, four for the Red Sox, and one each for the Celtics and Bruins.

It wasn’t always this way, and old-timers (hello me) can recite a litany of frustration and futility. However, now the faithful are getting restless. It’s been long six years since any confetti-draped duck boats rolled down Boylston Street.

But back to that night in October 2004, when the Red Sox — woven into the generational fabric of New England unlike any other team — ended a drought of 86 years. For so many of us, it was personal, and the emotions still resonate.

And that’s why, for all the good times I had being here, going there and everywhere, the Red Sox winning it all 20 seasons ago this year remains on a very short list of career highlights.

You never forget the first time.

Boston Red Sox 2004 World Series

As the sports editor of the Times in ‘04, I was in the office on Oct. 27 helping to plan and manage our coverage of the World Series against the Cardinals. The Red Sox won the first three games and were going for the sweep and the championship in St. Louis.

This was more than a sports story and all hands were on deck, nearly the entire editorial and production departments. We had reporters on the scene at Busch Stadium and also all around the Cape. There was a photographer in Boston’s Kenmore Square to capture the celebratory mayhem that was sure to erupt.

Our usual deadline was about midnight to get the paper to bed, to the presses and to the readers’ doorsteps the next morning. But this was anything but typical. We were ready to push things to the max and into the wee hours.

With the 3-0 lead in the Series, it all seemed inevitable for the Sox. However, we also had to have a backup if destiny was denied, if only for a game. We were prepared with a “They win/They lose” plan, two separate newspapers being designed and assembled simultaneously throughout the shift.

And then it happened. The stars and that Red (Sox) moon aligned.

At 11:39 p.m., the Cardinals’ Edgar Renteria tapped a grounder to pitcher Keith Foulke, who underhanded the ball to first baseman Doug Mientkiewicz for the game’s final out.

The planet stopped spinning.

Hell froze over.

The Boston Red Sox were World Series champions.

I wrote then — and have many times since: A night that will last a lifetime. And so it goes. Indelible images still flash across through the years in a kaleidoscope of colors.

We ditched the “lose” edition and put out an amazing 44 pages, many of them, front to back, about the Sox. From Portage Lake, Maine to Provincetown, newspapers — still read and relevant in 2004 — documented this first version of history.

Really, it was historic. Google “What happened on October 27, 2004.”

Celebration

The front page of the Cape Cod Times on Oct. 28, 2004, screamed FINALLY! over a poster-sized photo of Trot Nixon.

The headline on the sports section blared BELIEVE IT! with the now-famous photo of Mientkiewicz leaping into a hugging Foulke and Jason Varitek.

The first newspapers rolled off the presses in Independence Park around 2 o’clock in the morning and quickly were shuttled back to the newsroom, where editors proofed them one last time.

The wildest, most exhilarating shift of my career was over, but the night was just beginning. I shared an Irish whiskey toast with my boss, Cliff Schechtman, and then, still buzzed with adrenaline, I headed for my favorite pub.

I knew that, regardless of the after-hours time, the back door would be open and all the boys would still be there. And they were: brother Jim, soaked in champagne; buddy Peter, looking a wee bit flushed; Davey, listing to the left; Chris, the bartender; and even Joey the Yankees fan.

It was such a surreal scene. Everyone had vacant, stunned looks on their faces. They were hugging one another and their grins were frozen in a did-this-really-happen sort of way. I had an ink-barely-dry first copy of the paper bearing the news, as if we all needed convincing it was indeed true.

I joined in some celebratory toasts and some more hugs, but I had a promise to keep and miles to go before I would sleep.

Family Ties

It was close to four in the morning when my brother and I arrived at Island Pond Cemetery and our father's grave. Jim and I always knew that if the Red Sox won it all, we would celebrate with the Old Man.

Our passion for baseball came from him. He passed away in 1994, and the day after his funeral, the World Series was canceled. But now we were together again. We sprinkled a spot of Midleton over his stone, and finally, he rested in peace.

When I arrived home near the crack of dawn, my daughter Sabrina, on her 18th birthday, had left me a note on my pillow, written in red. (She was born in 1986, just moments after the Mets finished off the Red Sox in that World Series.)

“So how does it feel?” Sabrina wrote. “It feels pretty gosh darn good …18 years … 86 years! I'm glad we rooted them on together!”

My son, Sean, called from college, and though neither of us could talk through choked emotion, we understood.

My wife, Marsha, born and bred in the Bronx, a Yankees fan, still had a smile and a squeeze for me.

The sun was rising, and I sat alone reading the newspaper headlines. Again. It was true. The Red Sox won the World Series for the first time in 86 years.

It wasn't a dream. But still, I was afraid to fall asleep.

Future of the Red Sox

This 2024 baseball season in Boston seems destined to disappoint. I want to be wrong and hope springs eternal. But no matter.

Surely, there will be celebrations and reunions of that special team from 20 years ago, and those will be warm reminders of all that once was good and could be again.

A night that has lasted a lifetime.

Bill Higgins is the retired sports editor of the Cape Cod Times. He can be contacted bhiggins54@gmail.com.

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This article originally appeared on Cape Cod Times: Remembering the 2004 Boston Red Sox World Series 20 years later