Tripp Menhall

 Boston Red Sox’s most recent World Series wins, but sadly I’m a 2005 baby — no 2004 championship for me. 

That being said, I have a baseball-crazed father who wore a ‘04 World Series t-shirt the day I was born; I’m more than educated on how the Sox reversed the “Curse of the Bambino” — the 86-year World Series drought the club went through after selling Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees, thus creating the infamous rivalry. 

So the answer is yes, I giggled and kicked my feet when I heard Netflix was releasing “The Comeback: 2004 Boston Red Sox.” The series, directed by Colin Barnicle, is a three-episode documentary detailing the team’s incredible comeback after being down 3-0 against the New York Yankees in the American League Championship Series. 

Part I of the series recounts Boston’s 2003 rebuild. Think “Moneyball,” not just because Billy Beane was nearly hired as the team’s general manager, but because ownership took a ragtag group of ballplayers based on specialized stats. Newly appointed 28-year-old GM Theo Epstein needed to prove the Sox weren’t a second-place team. 

As first baseman Kevin Millar said, “You guys need to cowboy up.” 

The episode features interviews with players, journalists, owner John Henry, Epstein and former manager Grady Little. Let me tell you, if Little wasn’t already despised for putting Pedro Martinez back on the mound in the eighth inning of ALCS Game 7 against the Yankees in 2003, he’s hated now. 

Luckily that decision was his death sentence. And yes, the Red Sox blew Game 7 of the ALCS and reaffirmed the curse for another offseason. But the point of this episode wasn’t about how Yankees closer Mariano Rivera was lights out to send his team to yet another World Series. 

It was the rising action to a 2004 World Series-caliber club. The Sox entered Yankee Stadium for Game 1 of the ALCS with shaved heads, sweatshirts turned to muscle tanks and a degenerate attitude your parents would send you to your room for. They didn’t care about how they looked or acted, they cared about the game. 

But seeing this — the way fans found a sliver of faith in Boston again despite the outcome — gave me that familiar feeling in my stomach I had during Game 2 of the 2021 ALCS. Minus the gut-punch of late knuckleballer Tim Wakefield giving up the go-ahead home run in Game 7 to current Yankees manager Aaron Boone. 

That one stings. Love you, 49. 

It’s funny. When the credits rolled in Part I, I was defeated. We just lost, there was nothing left for the Sox, for the city. I can only imagine how my dad felt. Because guess what, it was the furthest thing from over for Boston. 

Part II opens with Martinez restating that ownership needed to win the arms race, buy-in to the organization and trade for pitching ahead of the 2004 season. I shivered when pitcher Curt Schilling appeared on my screen, and not because he was a monster on the mound. Just read the tabloids. 

He did say one thing I didn’t hate. “Fuck the curse. It was a curse of talent. They were just never talented enough to win it.” 

True, anyways. I applaud Barnicle for snagging Yankees players to give another perspective. You can’t create a documentary on a team’s journey to victory and not include the opponent, no matter how much you dislike them. I’m also a sucker for the footage used throughout; those grainy, low-quality videos bring a sense of nostalgia. 

Hearing radio announcer Joe Castiglione and late broadcaster Jerry Remy call games they’ll never call again, reading newspaper clippings that I hope to write someday and getting to know these players outside of Fenway was worth three hours any day of the week. 

I mean, I’m watching a championship team in the making, I’m reliving a season I wasn’t here for, yet I know exactly how it ends. Barnicle captured me in every aspect of the filmmaking and interviews, almost making m e question if Boston could really flip the script in 2004. 

In Sox fashion, the offseason was bleak. Ownership came oh so close to putting shortstop Alex Rodriguez in a Boston uniform — in exchange for shortstop Nomar Garciapara and pitcher Jon Lester no less — but it was New York who snagged baseball’s best. 

So Henry and Epstein needed to reevaluate, starting with who would be managing the squad. Enter, Terry Francona. 

Boy, did the first half of that season suck. And tensions kept rising. Garciapara, already bitter from nearly being traded, was sidelined by an Achilles injury. But the world didn’t know that and the media chalked it up to an attitude problem. 

Boston was still second-best to New York through July. The Red Sox were set to face the Yankees until weather interfered, prompting both managers to pack up the dugouts. But the guys in red and white wanted to play. 

Thank you, Bronson Arroyo, for changing everything. The Sox’s starter had barely warmed u p before the first pitch, so drilling Rodriguez in the second inning wasn’t entirely his fault. A-Rod lost it, plain and simple. 

And catcher Jason Varitek — dubbed the captain for a reason — had enough. I don’t know a single baseball fan who hasn’t heard of the infamous benches-emptying brawl. 

“Every bar room and household used to be Cardinal Cushing, John F. Kennedy, now it’s Jason Varitek stuffing his mitt into Alex Rodriguez’s face,” Boston Globe columnist Dan Shaughnessy said. 

Boston went on to win that game on a walk-off two-run homer by third baseman Bill Mueller, off of none other than Rivera. Castiglione said that the game was the first time he called the phrase, ‘Can you believe it?’ 

There are so many moments in this documentary that could have been the turning point for the 2004 Red Sox. “This is when we became a team,” Millar said. 

What I adore about Part III is how Barnicle designed the episode like it was the World Series. People don’t realize, ‘04 wasn’t historic for Boston because the Sox won it all. It was historic because these idiots finally eliminated the Yankees in a playoff scenario. 

“Long live the idiots, bro,” left fielder Johnny Damon said. “We’re a bunch of frickin’ idiots, man.” 

And there it was, déjà vu. A Yankees-Red Sox ALCS, again. 

Boston got hosed for three straight. News flash, no team in the league has ever battled back from a 3-0 deficit in a best-of-seven series and then gone on to clinch the World Series. 

“Don’t let us win today,” Millar said before Game 4. 

The Red Sox didn’t lose again. The hero? Hall of Fame designated hitter David Ortiz whose bat sent Boston to Game 5 and 6 respectively. 

That’s the best part of “The Comeback.” It was the anticipation, the will-they-won’t-they, the culture that the 2004 Red Sox fostered, idiot and all. 

I mean, Schilling’s bloody sock in Game 6? Disgustingly iconic. Nobody was doing it like Boston. My favorite cinematic element from Barnicle? When it looked like the Yankees had the Sox by the throat and a montage of Boston’s past failures started playing. 

That’s when it forced ALCS Game 7. 

Damon has a two-homer game. New York is down, and the offense is utterly paralyzed. Champagne boxes fill the Red Sox’s clubhouse. Bottom of the ninth, ground ball to second baseman Pokey Reese. Pennant, Boston. 

Epstein, Millar, Martinez and Ortiz sitting in the interview, teary-eyed. 

And I sit on my couch eager to believe in Boston again. 

Look, the 2013 World Series DVD is a treasure. But my version skips because 9-year-old me watched it 5,000 times and now I can recite the entire thing for you. 

It was time to expand my horizons with “The Comeback,” and it’s about time for baseball fans in this generation to know what went down in October of 2004 — the Yankees.