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Boston has held plenty of victory parades in recent years, but none were quite as poignant as the rolling rally to celebrate the Red Sox, winners of the 2013 World Series. The parade, which ran through Boylston Street, site of the Boston Marathon bombings, was about more than baseball. Amid the jubilation, the parade paid tribute to those affected by the tragedy in a sign that Boston was one step closer to normalcy, turning the page away from a dark chapters in the city's long history.
It feels like only in Boston that a championship parade would count as a return to normalcy, a side effect of holding eight of them across four sports in the span of 11 years. Long-time residents, or return visitors, had an idea of what to expect. The sidewalks were packed by early morning, well before the parade's 10am start time (the estimated attendance was around one million, alleviating concerns that fear or anxiety would keep more fans away). Radio stations and other businesses distributed placards to the growing mass of fans for cheap but effective advertising. Day-drunk townies chugged liquor only nominally hidden in Gatorade containers or water bottles, using the day as an excuse to get wasted at 9am. The Dropkick Murphys, essentially Boston's house band, played a three-song set including, as is probably required by Massachusetts law, I'm Shipping Off to Boston.
In fact, before the duckboats carried Red Sox players, front office people and media members up Boylston Street, where bombs exploded in April, there were only a few hints that this parade was being held under much different circumstances than previous ones, most notably in how the police officers were applauded almost as much as some players.
Nobody had forgotten how well law enforcement handled the immediate aftermath of the bombings, as well as the day-long manhunt for the surviving suspect. Considering the circumstances, it was fitting that the enduring image from the Red Sox playoff run featured officer Steve Horgan raising his arms triumphantly in the Fenway bullpen while the Detroit Tigers' Torii Hunter took a tumble in a failed attempt to rob David Ortiz's season-saving grand slam in the American League Championship Series.
The celebration struck a serious note when the duckboats carrying players and personnel stopped at Boylston, where outfielder Jonny Gomes placed the World Series trophy on the finish line as onlookers sang God Bless America and chanted "Boston strong". Following this, World Series MVP David Ortiz, quite possibly the most beloved person in Boston, hopped off his duckboat to jog across the yellow and blue line for his own homage to the marathon victims. Then it was time to complete the parade as the line of duckboats made their way through the rest of the city until the amphibious vehicles reached the Charles River.
Saturday's parade was a textbook example of how sports can bring a community together. Fittingly enough, this was something the rally had in common with the Boston Marathon, where the city essentially shuts down and residents and visitors alike take to the sidewalks to cheer on athletes.
Too much has already been said about the role sports can play in the wake of tragedy or disaster. The Boston Marathon bombings killed three people and injured hundreds more. In this context, wins and losses feel utterly insignificant. Sports can't reverse the past, heal injuries or repair damaged buildings. The best thing sporting events can do in this context is provide some sort of communal distraction.
Isn't a communal distraction enough though? In times of crisis, the human instinct is to band together. Being part of a group gives us strength we would never have on our own. We become sports fans partly because it's an easy way to become part of something larger than ourselves, something that provides us with shared experiences, something that can help us bond with others.
There are very few Boston institutions that bring together more people than the Red Sox. Visit Boston in spring and summer and you'll find yourself surrounded by so many people wearing Sox gear that you would think Red Sox Nation is something close to a cult (which isn't too far off). So, it's fitting that they were the ones to reclaim Boylston Street while paying tribute to a city paying tribute to them.
Boston has been fortunate enough to experience plenty of success in recent history, but arguably none of these previous parades were as meaningful as Saturday's. As Brendan O'Toole wrote for the Red Sox blog Over the Monster:
To say that Boston deserved this championship is to turn this season into a late-era Stallone flick. We didn't deserve it. But goddamn did we need it.
Saturday's rolling rally didn't just honor a beloved baseball team, it sent out a clear message that we had taken our city back.
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