OK, so several people have emailed me, begging the Vice President of Red Sox Nation to blog about the rest of this Cleveland series. When Rem Dawg appointed me, he gave me a crystal ball, and this is what I see:

Sox will win tonight. Beckett is pitching. Beckett is like the ace of spades, he beats all comers.

Sox will then come home for game 6 on a big high, very confident, and Curt Schilling was born to win do-or-die game 6’s. One way or another, he (and the team) will find a way to win.

Then we’ll have game 7 in Fenway. The Indians players won’t be able to shake that fear that they’re about to choke away a 3-1 series lead. The Sox will KNOW they’re going to win, having taken the last two in a row. We’ll be ready to throw a committee out there (Daisuke, Okajima, Lester, Timlin, Papelbon) but we won’t need to because the Sox will slug their way to a dominating no-doubter.

Rockies, beware.

I remember arriving early at game 1 of the 2004 World Series. I felt enormous excitement, of course, because of the almost unthinkable possibility of finally winning it all. But I also felt enormous dread. Those of us who had endured our share of Red Sox pain felt reluctant to even give ourselves permission to imagine what it would be like if we actually won the Series. We had let ourselves imagine it vividly a few times before (game 7 of 1975, 9th inning of game 6 in 1986, game 7 of ALCS in 2003), only to get burned. Badly burned.

This year, it’s different. It’s easier to imagine what it would be like to win the World Series. There’s no dread whatsover. Certainly, the fact that the Yankees (and Mets) have already been eliminated helps. And it’s not as painful to imagine losing. Yes, I imagine a bad taste in my mouth at the thought of losing to the Indians, and a really rotten taste in my mouth at the idea of losing to the Rockies or Diamondbacks. But because we vanquished the curse in 2004, the current postseason is about 2007 only, not about 1919 and every other year we failed since then. On Opening Day in 2005, all of us members of Red Sox Nation hit the "restart button" on our emotional lives — and the ensuing three years of futility haven’t been enough to cause a distressing World Series drought.

So how would a World Series victory in 2007 be different from the 2004 triumph?

1. The celebration would be pure fun. No convulsions, no heart attacks. In 2004, the celebration was an orgasmic exorcism, almost painful in its joyousness, if that is possible. Of course, the fact that we were about to get swept by the Yankees until Millar walked, Roberts stole second, and Mueller knocked him home – and then we staged the greatest comeback in sports history – played a big role in our eventual ebullience. We sort of expected some unknown force to take the trophy away from us even after the last game vs. St. Louis had ended. When the Cubs finally win it all, we’ll see that kind of reaction all over again.

2. We would feel like World Champions immediately after the final out. In the aftermath of the 2004 victory, it literally took months for our old identity as "lovable chokers whose Daddy is the Yankees" to fade and our new identity as "World Champs" to sink in. Pre-2004, part of the pride of being a Red Sox fan was having the courage to "keep the faith," and by wearing the blue hat with the "B" on it, we proclaimed to the world that we were sticking by our guys, no matter how horribly they had screwed up our lives. During the winter of 2004-2005, we all woke up every morning and thought, "I had the weirdest dream that the Red Sox won the World Series — oh my gosh, it’s true!" Because we’ve rehearsed the feeling of being a champion, another World Series triumph would feel like putting on an old, broken-in baseball glove (except better).

3. We would suddenly be perceived as one of the premier sports franchises of the 21st Century, by virtue of winning two World Series in four years. There would be several players on the team with TWO Red Sox World Series rings (reminiscent of the early 20th Century Red Sox players, who won it all in 1912, 1915, 1916, and 1918). John Henry, Larry Lucchino, and Theo Epstein would establish themselves as one of the best (if not THE best) owner-president-GM trio in sports today. And Terry Francona would have to be considered one of the elite managers in baseball…. and a bona-fide Hall of Fame candidate.

4. Kids in Red Sox Nation, who were fans in 2004, would officially grow up with a warped sense of what it means to be a Red Sox fan. (Or perhaps it’s us long-term fans whose perceptions are warped…. permanently damaged by the pain of pre-2004.) And this means that kids from Yankees Territory would officially grow up with a warped sense of what it means to be a Yankees fan. Doesn’t that idea make you happy?

How else do you imagine that "winning it all" in 2007 would be different than in 2004? I look forward to reading your comments….

Yes, Jerry Remy did ask me to be Vice President of Red Sox Nation (last Friday, prior to game 2 vs. Anaheim), and yes, I did accept his offer, and yes, it’s really exciting. I’m not really sure yet what it means to be Vice President of Red Sox Nation, but I assume it means I should just keep being myself, and I’m determined to make it mean increased opportunities for me to make a positive impact in people’s lives.

But rather than write about this accomplishment — which really means nothing until Jerry and I DO something to validate our titles — I thought I’d celebrate my incredibly good fortune with a fantastic story from Red Sox Nation. I heard a lot of them during my two-month campaign, but this one tops ’em all. It’s from a boy named Chris Stimpson, and it’s right out of a Disney movie that’s too good to believe.

Chris was at Fenway on August 13, 2007, and because his little brother, Sam, had caught a foul ball on June 12th, Chris really hoped he would catch one on this night. And against all odds, he believed he would. Well, he didn’t catch a foul ball, but one of his grandfather’s friends DID catch a foul ball off the bat of Jason Varitek, and he gave it to Chris. "I was so excited, I took the ball and jumped up in the air!" Chris told me. His wish had been answered. But that’s not the end of the story.

On the drive home from the game, Chris’s dad got stuck in traffic. I’ll let Chris tell the rest of the story: "That’s when I saw Jason Varitek stuck in traffic too! Right next to us! We stopped the car and I got out and went into the street. None of the cars was moving so I walked over to Varitek’s car and tapped on the window. To my surprise, he rolled it down and said, What’s up? I told him about the foul ball he hit to my grandfather’s friend and I showed it to him and he said, Let me see that. Then he took out a pen, signed the ball, and handed it back to me. It was so cool. I ran back to my car yelling Thank you! back towards Varitek’s car. When I jumped in my car, I yelled, HE SIGNED IT! HE SIGNED IT!"

I certainly hope that in my capacity as Vice President of Red Sox Nation, I’ll hear a lot more wonderful stories like that one!

I just got home from game one of the playoffs (Beckett… wow), and what matters way more than this Red Sox Nation election is that THE SOX WON. My 8 year-old son predicts 11 consecutive wins in the postseason. I’m not going to argue with him.

I wanted to let everyone know that I am extremely pleased with the outcome of the election. I remain blown away by the support of so many people — from every corner of my past and from people I’ve never met around the world — who cared enough to vote for "Regular Rob" and to ask their friends and family members to vote too. If you are one of those people, I thank you. (And I also want to say that no matter who you voted for, you picked a great candidate…. I got to know some of these people and they’re all first class.)

When this whole process started back in July, I did not realize how many connections with old friends I would reestablish and how many new relationships and conversations with loyal citizens of RSN would begin; I did not envision such an enthusiastic response to a song I’d write and record on my laptop in my basement and to Red Sox/baseball/parenting stories I would write on my blog; and I certainly did not dare to dream that a Pulitzer Prize-winning author I’ve never met would endorse my candidacy, catapulting me to a first-place finish among non-celebrity candidates.

I have heard from many people about how "unfair" it was that Jerry Remy participated in this election. But you know what — having Jerry Remy in the race made it a lot more fun for me and the other candidates. And in the end, Rem Dawg earned this — he’s developed a strong, authentic relationship with Red Sox Nation over a period of many years, he’s a consistently excellent baseball commentator, and the fans love him. Yes indeed, the fans have spoken — Jerry Remy is our president!

Stay tuned for many, many more blog articles here at this website, as well as a steady stream of new songs…. I’ve only just begun…..

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So now, we wait for the votes to be counted…

Regardless of the outcome, this has been a spectacular experience. I want to commend the other finalists, Jared Carrabis, Cheryl Boyd, Cindy Brown, Sam Horn, Jerry Remy, the Texan behind Big Pupi, Peter Gammons, and Rich Garces for a truly fun campaign. In particular, the candidates who showed up at the debate with Tim Russert and Tina Cervasio (first five on the list) really impressed me with their courage, their ideas for improving the fan experience, and their light-hearted approach to this whole "competition."

And the greatest thing about being endorsed by Doris Kearns Goodwin is not the votes it attracted, but the memory I have of calling her afterwards to introduce myself and thank her — and hearing her great excitement about my disbelief and gratitude. What a classy woman she is. And a real Red Sox fan, to her core.

For us candidates, and all the people we met and emailed and received emails from, this campaign has been less a "competition" and more a celebration of the Red Sox and its fans. Before this whole RSN business started in July, I knew Red Sox Nation was huge and that the Red Sox were integral to the lives of millions of people around the world, but this process has truly opened my eyes to the magnitude of it all.

Indeed, the emails I’ve received from fans around the world have led me to the realization that baseball ISN’T just a game, the Red Sox AREN’T just a team, and Fenway Park ISN’T just a ballpark. The importance ascribed to these by countless SANE members of Red Sox Nation reveals that there’s something about baseball, the Red Sox, and Fenway that transcends their literal, banal definitions. Our emotional lives, our relationships with family members and friends, would be DIFFERENT without the Red Sox. And regardless of whatever role I may or may not have in this first "presidential administration," I look forward to writing more about this phenomenon on this blog, for whomever is interested….

Thanks to all of you who supported my candidacy, or who supported others, or who took any interest in this campaign. It may appear to be a silly contest, but I have high hopes that whomever is elected will make a positive impact on people’s lives that no one can call "silly."

Vote NOW for president of Red Sox Nation at www.redsoxnation.com/president.

This photo (left) depicts exactly how I felt at the moment Doris Kearns Goodwin said in her taped address at the presidential debate on Thursday, "I hereby announce that I am withdrawing my candidacy and endorsing Rob Crawford for president."

It was a stunning moment. I don’t remember what I said when Tim Russert asked me for my reaction, but I now know how Clay Buchholz felt right after his no-hitter when Tina Cervasio asked him for his reaction. "Um, did that really just happen?" (By the way, someone should have asked me, What’s your reaction to having Tim Russert look you in the eye and say in a searing way, "What’s your reaction, Rob?")

I have met Doris Kearns Goodwin once, and it was a brief handshake at the candidates’ event last Wednesday at The Baseball Tavern, near Fenway Park. What she did at the debate was extraordinarily gracious. What a
remarkable person she is! Thank you, Doris! And of course if I am elected I will champion your wonderful idea of memorial bricks on Yawkey Way and Lansdowne Street. It’s such a good idea, I think the Sox would pursue it anyway.

Regardless of the outcome
of this election, Doris’s gesture to withdraw and subsequently endorse a "regular fan" whom she hardly knows makes her the biggest winner of us
all.

Click here to read Doris Kearns Goodwin’s endorsement of my candidacy at her Red Sox blog.

Click here to read the speech I gave at the Baseball Tavern last week that Doris refers to in her endorsement.

A funny debate postscript: When I came home and talked with my 8 year-old son about how it had gone, he asked me, "Daddy, what was the hardest question they asked you?" I told him that the hardest question was, "If you had the chance to bring Alex Rodriguez to the Red Sox, would you?"

I told my son that my response was, "Well, my number-one priority is to win another World Series, and A-Rod would certainly help the Red Sox do that. But you know, my 8 year-old son is watching tonight, and he and I attended that game in 2004 when A-Rod and Varitek fought and Bill Mueller hit a walk-off homer to beat Mariano Rivera, and my son would kill me if I ever let A-Rod be a member of the Sox." You sound like a democratic presidential candidate, Rob," said Russert.  "Which is it, yes or no?" "I defer to my son," I replied. "No A-Rod."

When I told my son I had said this, he said,  "What?! Daddy, of course I would want A-Rod on the Red Sox! What are you, crazy?"

Regular Rob’s son for Red Sox assistant GM!

It was a pleasure getting to know the other five candidates who participated in the debate – Cindy Brown, Cheryl Boyd, Jared Carrabis, Jerry Remy, and Sam Horn. They’re all classy people who would be outstanding RSN presidents.

Thank you for your votes at http://www.redsoxnation.com/president from Friday night through Tuesday at 5pm.

YES! The Sox clinch the AL East thanks to a Mariano Rivera meltdown!

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To hear my song, I’m A Member of Red Sox Nation, on your computer right now, click on the box above. To read about the making of this song, click here. To see the YouTube video for this song, click here. To download a copy of this song for free, click here.

This past Saturday, I was invited to appear on WHRB-FM’s famous country/folk music show, Hillbilly at Harvard, and to perform my song, I’m a Member of Red Sox Nation, live on the air. It’s always been a crazy dream of mine to have a song on the radio, so I didn’t hesitate to accept the invitation. And it was a great time. The show’s host, "Cousin Lynn" Joiner (second from left), made me feel right at home during our interview, and then we filled the studio with my song…. "we" being my co-writers, Michele and Dan Page (right), plus their 10 year-old granddaughter and my 8 year-old son, all of whom sang backup vocals. Who knows how it all sounded out in radio-land, but we had a blast. I want to thank Cousin Lynn for making it all possible. It was an honor to be on your legendary radio show.

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I was struck by one of Cousin Lynn’s questions. He said, smiling, "So, you’re running for the presidency of a concept?" He was pointing out the absurdity of electing a "president of Red Sox Nation." Today, I thought more about that. Red Sox Nation…. Is it a band of millions of loyal Red Sox fans? Or is it an emotion? A state of mind? A culture? Well yes, it’s all of these things. But most of all, it’s a way of life.  And as I and other members of RSN go through our daily lives, the Red Sox and baseball are literally everywhere we turn. I’m sure your house is a lot like mine….

Baseball gloves are all over the place.

Our love for the Red Sox is evident in our closets, where our many hats live, as well as in our laundry baskets and our children’s drawers.

RSN calls to us from our children’s walls and game closets….

… and from our bookcases and the backs of our cars.   

Wiffle bats and balls reside in the yard ("Fenway West")…

… along with the bases our kids have stepped on and dove into thousands of times, imitating Mueller or Crisp or Nomar or Roberts.

The kitchen isn’t just where we refuel, it’s where we pore over every word and statistic in the Globe sports section, and where our Kid Nation fridge magnet schedule is displayed proudly.

And of course, every night between April and October, the game is on, and with every up and down inning, we relive the great highs and lows we’ve experienced as Red Sox fans over the years.

So yes, Cousin Lynn, Red Sox Nation is a concept. A concept whose essence has infiltrated everything about my life and the lives of many people I know, as well as the lives of millions of others worldwide. That’s one powerful "concept." It’s a kind of insanity. Hard to imagine any other "way of life"…

(Thanks to all of you for your comments on this and previous posts. I have been overwhelmed by your support in this campaign.)

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Below is another article in a series I’ve written as a candidate for president of Red Sox Nation. To hear my song, "I’m A Member of Red Sox Nation," click on the box above. To view the music video, click here. 

If there’s one regular season game we’d all like to attend this year, it’s tonight’s game, Red Sox vs.Yankees, Schilling vs. Clemens. And I was offered a ticket, too. Turning it down was utterly painful, but with four small kids who need dinner, baths, and a bedtime story simultaneously, the teamwork of two parents is pretty important on a Sunday night. Don’t get me wrong, my wife can handle it all alone, but other married parents in Red Sox Nation will understand that, come September, it’s wise to save your chips for… the playoffs.

And anyway, no matter how great the game is tonight, it would be tough to match the fun I had today playing wiffle ball with my 8 year-old son (above, wearing a Laurence Maroney jersey) and my 9 year-old nephew… on the baseball field in my backyard. That’s right. A few years ago, at my son’s request, we transformed the sloped grassy space behind our house into a baseball field. Fenway West. 68 feet to the Fisk Pole in left field, 56 feet to the Pesky Pole in right, 96 feet to dead center (and laminated distance markers, made at Kinko’s, on the plastic fences, which are from the garden center at Home Depot). Bases exactly 45 feet apart, foul lines spray-painted white, and a pitcher’s mound 40 feet from home.

You like the idiosyncracies of Fenway? We’ve got those too. A sandbox full of toys in left, a swingset in right, and a gigantic oak tree next to the pitcher’s mound in the center of the field (ground rules: any ball that hits the tree in fair territory is fair and in play). There’s another big tree that looms in front of the left field fence (83 feet to straight-away left) that has the same effect on line drive blasts to left as the real Green Monster does… except sometimes the ball doesn’t come back down.

The neighborhood kids who play ball in our backyard go to school every day and do their homework every night. But much of their most important education takes place right here after school and on the weekends. At Fenway West, they learn to organize themselves, to make compromises when disagreements arise, to play hard, and to never give up. They learn what it feels like to have a Sports Center Moment by hitting a clutch homer or pitching a third strike on a full count. They learn how to dream, they learn how to play.

Many of my neighbors have beautiful, green lawns. No one walks on them except when they’re being mowed. Our lawn can’t be called a lawn. It would be more accurate to call it a scraggly brownish earth surface. Grass doesn’t thrive when it’s trampled relentlessly by kids (and sometimes their dads) playing wiffle ball for hundreds of hours. The dirt patches at all the bases and the pitcher’s mound are now permanent, and the grass along the paths between the bases will probably never grow again. So be it.

My wife worries that the barren baseball field in our backyard decreases the value of our house. I know better. If we ever decide to sell this place, the right buyer will see the house as a pleasant appendage to a field of dreams. Which is what our backyard has been for me, my kids, and their friends these last few years.

A week ago, my son had a homework assignment that asked him to describe his favorite thing about where he lives. His answer: "The baseball field." That’s my favorite thing about where we live, too. Fenway West.

The risk of giving my son his first Fenway experience at the age ofthree was significant: what if he was too young to appreciate it and
remember it?

But I was so eager to introduce him to Fenway Park and the Red Sox,
I took the gamble on Father’s Day in 2002. And despite the cool, damp
weather, we had a fantastic time. He stood the whole game; Cracker
Jacks, cotton candy, and Fenway Franks sustained him; he was fascinated
by the wave; he loved the chants, the clapping, and singing Take Me Out To the Ballgame; and although he paid little attention to the action and didn’t understand a thing that was going on, he never got bored.

After the three-hour game, we had the option of heading home or
standing in an incredibly long line under the right field seats to go
onto the field for the first ever "Father’s Day catch." I gave him the
options and let him choose. "Let’s go on the field, Daddy!" (What a
kid!) We waited and waited, but he never complained. By the time we
made it onto the outfield grass, we had been at Fenway for about 4 1/2
hours (which is 9 hours in 3 year-old time).

I recall thinking, while rolling balls to him, chasing him, and
wrestling with him in the shadow of the Green Monster, that this was my
favorite day as a parent. It was surreal. I wished it could last
forever. And I hoped my son would remember it, too.

Fast-forward four months to the fall of 2002. I was sitting with my
son at our kitchen table, a wall calendar in front of us, filling in
the major holidays together. We noted Halloween, Christmas, New Year’s
Day, Valentine’s Day, July 4th, and a few others. When we were done, he
said with alarm, "Daddy, Daddy, we forgot the biggest holiday of all!"
We did? "Yeah Daddy, we forgot Father’s Day at Fenway!"

(No, I didn’t forget.)

Below is another article in a series of blog entries I’ve written as a candidate for president of Red Sox Nation. This article originally appeared on my other blog at Crawdaddy Cove.

My eight year-old son is a believer. In his short life, he has
attended some of the greatest regular season Red Sox games of them all.
He was at Fenway for the Varitek-ARod fight followed by the Mueller walk-off vs. Mariano Rivera in 2004; he was there for the Mark Loretta walk-off home run vs. Seattle on Patriots Day in 2006; and he was there for the incredible six-run, ninth inning rally vs. Baltimore on Mother’s Day earlier this spring (Sox won, 6-5).

He was also there for the 14-0 loss to the Braves in May. It was at this game that I realized he has become a FULLY EXPECTANT BELIEVER in the Red Sox.

The weather was horrible. By the end of the 7th inning, with the
Braves leading 11-0 and a steady downpour soaking Fenway, only a few
thousand fans remained in the stands. My son was shivering so I asked
him if he wanted to head home. "No way, Daddy!" he said, insulted.
"Daddy, we’re going to come back and win this game." Then he commanded,
"Put on your rally cap!" So I turned my cap inside out. And so did all
the people sitting near us.

In
the 8th inning, completely drenched, he turned to me again and said
with absolute seriousness, "Daddy, the Red Sox are winning this game."
I replied, "I know they are." In the top of the ninth, the Braves
scored three more runs, and before the Sox came up in the bottom of the
ninth, he said, "That’s actually good, Daddy, because now the comeback
will have three more runs and that will be more exciting." "You’re
right," I replied. "LET’S GO RED SOX!" he continued to yell through the
raindrops. The Sox went one-two-three in the ninth, and the worst Sox
game of the year (from a spectator’s perspective) was over. My son was
pensive as we walked out of Fenway.

On the drive home, he was quiet and I thought he was asleep until he
said, "Daddy, I know this sounds strange, but I’m going to say it
anyway. I really think it’s…. funny that the Red Sox didn’t
win. I mean, I really really thought they were going to come back. Even
with two outs in the ninth inning, I just knew they were going to win." Then, he fell asleep. His earnest faith gave me goosebumps.

How lucky am I to be this boy’s father, and to be raising him a few
miles from Fenway? How lucky is Red Sox Nation to have this kid as a
citizen?