I don't follow the fandom much anymore, but I have this idea, a sequel to "Choices." I dared people to do one w/a Red Sox theme and nobody did, so if you don't like it, you should have done one :- ) Seriously, if you didn't read Choices, Sam and Rebecca, when they were going together, were named as guardians of this kid in the parents' will, the parents were heavy drinkers & died, Sam became the dad when rEbecca wasn't interested, and adopted him - but not before getting a chance to correct his past if he wanted.

Now, Teddy's going by Theo, and he gives his observations of one night in "Cheers" as the Red Sox conclude that playoff run. With something you'll like at the end, I'm sure :- )

There Are Winners, Too

"How did we get here? Is this really happening?" Looking around, the bar's owner said "pinch me" to nobody in particular. One of the waitresses came over and did it in a rather rough fashion. "Owww! Carla, I'd expect Woody to take me that literally, not you," he said as he rubbed his arm.

"I know. I just like to pinch people sometimes," Carla retorted playfully.

The man behind the bar's my dad, Sam Malone. You might have heard of him. His name when he was pitching was "Mayday." He was a pretty good closer till he drank imself out of baseball. Then, he bought this bar, called "Cheers." I would go into all the gory details of ownership over the next ten years or so, but it would probably bore you. Let's just say he's the owner again, and has been for over ten years.

In fact, since before I was born.

My name's Theo, though some still call me Teddy. Theo's the cool name now because of our team's GM. I'm sort of listening to the big crowd of fans in my dad's bar, "Cheers," but mostly I'm watching the World Series. And, given the history I've been blessed - or, rather cursed - with as a Red Sox fan, I'm wondering just what's going to happen in about 3 innings. Part of me even expects the Rapture before then. Dad says that's the way our whole history has gone.

I look back and shake my head as Dad talks on and on about all the losing we've suffered. I give him that look that everyone says "just spells teenager," then go back to my root beer.

Diane Chambers walks up to Sam and puts a hand on his shoulder. She says four simple words in a tone that says she's countered Dad's entire, five minute long talk. "There are winners, too," Diane says.

Dad looks at her, but he doesn't say anything sarcastic. Years ago, he would have, I'm sure. Like with this book he's got - "The Sun Also Rises." He says it's meant a lot to him - he's read it several times, even though it got ruined when it fell into the bathtub. When he first saw the title, he said snidely, "The Sun Also Rises - well, that's profound!" But, when Diane spoke about winners just now, he didn't say anything. I could tell he was thinking about it a little.

I could see why. He didn't see himself as much of a winner, even when he was playing - that's why he drank so much. And, neither did I. When he adopted me, after my parents died and he was named guardian in their will - well, actually, the third name, but the first two couples were dead or didn't want me or something - I really didn't feel very comfortable. I still remember bursting out in tears when I was pitching and he hit a ball I threw a long way. I thought I had to be perfect or he wouldn't accept me.

Well, he has. With the help of the social worker and some other adoptive parents he met during that time, he really got to be a great dad, though I don't always like everything he does, I have to admit he's pretty cool. I always wanted a mom, though. A real mom, like I see other kids having. Oh, some of my friends' moms try to be moms to me, and they're nice and all. But, I know living with a real mom would be the best. And, I know Dad wants that, too.

I motion him over and whisper, "Why don't you ask her?"

"I…come on, that was a long time ago."

"You promised back when we were down three-zip to the Yankees!"

"When we were down three-zip we didn't have a prayer."

"I knew we did."

Dad gives me that look like he doesn't know what to say, but he's going to say something anyway. "I …we haven't won yet. And even if we do, well…"

"Dad, she'll only be here for a day or two doing her freelance story. Once the Series is over, it's your last chance," I insist. "You've got to."

"I…okay, look…"

A loud cheer downs Dad out, as the Cardinals go down in the seventh. The fans are excited - nobody can believe we're only six outs away from a World title.

A couple big, round guys start talking next. "Heh, what do you suppose that guy at Yankee Stadium's saying now?" Norm Petersen asks.

"The one who tried to spill beer on us?" his friend Cliff asks. "Probably still amazed at how you jerked your head back and managed to swallow half of it."

"Hey, it was a reflex action; that's a terrible way to waste beer, splashing it on someone," Norm says as if he's talking about dumping a bunch of cigarette butts on the grounds of the Old North Church.

"I guess we'd never see you at the Tea Party," I kid Norm. "Why do you drink beer so much?"

Carla looks over at me and interrupts Norm. "Hey, kid, want us to start taking up that offering to send you to Africa again?"

Carla's funny. In my early years, and especially after I got adopted, the only stability was my church. I'm so glad we had a good bus program. Well, sometimes I get to little preachy - hey, what teenager doesn't. When I do, Carla always jokes about sending me to Africa as a missionary - right away. I think she doesn't want anyone telling her her bitter attitude isn't very nice to be around. But, I try to look at it on the bright side - at least I can laugh about people like her. It's better than having nobody pay attention to me like before I was adopted.

I consider talking about how his drinking's just part of a larger problem, a great big hole in his heart that only a relationship with Jesus Christ can fill, and then decide not to. A few years ago I would have, but I'm getting better at letting the Spirit guide me as to when to witness. Just like how Dad doesn't stick his foot in his mouth near as much as he used to. I guess that's why I like Dad so much - he admits he doesn't have all the answers when it comes to raising me, and that we're really learning together. Some parents think they know everything.

"Hey, Theo, think the Sox are gonna do it?" my buddy Mark asks me. We're sitting at a team with Mark's parents. It's very late, and it's a school day tomorrow - but we wouldn't miss this for the world. His parents agreed to come watch with us if we all went straight home afterward Dad liked that because he knew it would get me to sleep faster than if he had to close up the bar, clean up the mess, and then get home really late. So, I'm spending the night at Mark's.

"Of course we are. This is the year; we came back from 3-0 to beat the Yankees, so I knew we could do this."

Another huge cheer - just three outs to go. This 9th inning will be incredible. "Say something, Dad," I plead, meaning to Diane. I know this will really make him happy.

Instead, as the commercial runs, he asks the bar to quiet down. After a half minute, they do. "Everyone…it's been 86 years…" A tear came to his eye, something I never expected. When was the last time he shed a tear, I asked myself. "I think of Coach, who helped me break my alcohol habit; I think of so many people who are long since gone. And…I never dreamed this day would come…to be up 3-0, 3 outs away."

"Yeah, Coach was really a great guy," Woody agrees, as he watches the first of our guys make an out.

Diane chimes in by adding to Dad's speech, since he can't seem to go on too well. She didn't always follow sports with lots of enthusiasm. But, she does have a certain amount of awe in her voice, probably partly because of the work she's done for this free lance article she's doing. "This is truly a momentous occasion. It surely brings a chill to many spines to realize that entire empires have risen and fallen in 86 years. Millions upon millions of people have lived and died without seeing this glorious occasion, when Boston can see itself s being at the pinnacle of the baseball world. I can understand why, if you did not follow the Patriots or the Celtics, this sort of a moment…"

"Hey, will you keep it down," Norm says hastily. "You talk more than Tim McCarver." McCarver's one of the announcers, and many people say he talks way too much.

Diane ignores the rebuke and continues through the next out and the commercial break, much to Dad's dismay. "Yes, an incredible span of time, more than one full revolution of Uranus, in fact, which stands over a billion miles away from the sun!" Now, why did she throw that in there, I wonder. Sure, it's an amazing stat, but still… And, to think of the lives of all the people who never witnessed this…"

"If she has obituaries hidden away from the last eighty years I'll clobber her," Carla declares.

"We stand at the apex of something which has haunted this entire community. It is easy to see, in looking at this picture, just how captivating something like this can be." Dad's really getting annoyed now. "Consider it, gentlemen. Norman, Clifford, part of the reason you sat at that bar instead of accomplishing something the world will remember is certainly because of the Red Sox, at least in some way. Just like with Sam and his baseball career. Indeed, every one of us will be able to wake up tomorrow, see the sun rising over the vast expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, and marvel at…"

With the game about to resume, and no end in sight to Diane's eloquent yet boring talk, Dad threw up a hand, marched over to her, and did what I'd begged him to do for a long time. "Okay, you want me to propose? Is that what it'll take to get you to shut up so we can watch the ball game? Fine; will you marry me!"

I don't think Dad realized it for a second - when he finally notices that he's said it, Diane is still taken aback. The first battle of the bottom of the ninth is introduced as she gasps, "really? You..you mean it?"

"Look, Diane…nobody says you have to write your stuff way out there. And, I mean, I can even go with you, maybe; and let Woody maybe watch the bar, or someone else." He sighs, and puts her hands in his, as the first batter makes an out. "Diane…you've heard, and seen, how much I've grown. Having this kid, maybe it's like the Fonz on Happy Days, how he finally started maturing. Maybe I've just grown up, maybe having Theo, or Teddy is what made me. But, whether he's named after Theo Epstein, our GM, who put this team together, or Ted Williams, he's helped make me into a winner. But, I want to make it complete. I want him to have a mom."

"Oh, Sam…"Sam, I…I've just had so much go on in my life. And yet, there is something more I want. And, well, maybe this is it…"

"Come on, Diane. It's getting late. There's a ball game on. You gotta tell me, so I can join in the celebration."

I can see her mouth the word "yes" as the crowd cheers. We're now one out away from our world title since 1918! I can believe it, yet I can't. Sitting here with all these people, the entire city feels like it's ready to erupt.

"Here it is, Dad," I shout as he and Diane go from kissing to watching the screen together. The ball leaves the bat, and just as hundreds of thousands, probably well over a million, really, since the dawn of time, it pops into the glove.

But this time is different. This time, a curse is over. A history of futility has been erased. Ghosts are vanquished. And I am sounding too much like the woman who becomes my mom the following February.

So, I guess I'll just close with the sound of excitement flooding Boston, the cheers that ring in the ears of a million energized souls, as the entire Boston area celebrates an incredible triumph.

And, as Sam and Diane embrace in the afterglow of this incredible moment, we are all winners.