Dear Mr. Ortiz,
My name is Taylor. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I, like many young adults across New England, have grown up watching you play baseball. Yes; I am a diehard, Yankee-hating, "Sweet Caroline"-screaming Red Sox fan. Although you don't know me, I'd like to think that I know you. For so many families, you are a household name. As a living legend and national icon, you must receive fan mail all the time. This is not fan mail. I am not here to profess my undying admiration for you. I won't be writing any poetry (unless you're into that). My intention is to thank you.
On behalf of Red Sox Nation, thank you for teaching us what it means to be a Bostonian.
My first visit to Fenway happened before I was born. Pregnancy didn't stop my mother from braving the ever crowded Yawkey Way. If a fetus could speak, I would have thanked God for such a beautiful place. The familiar smell of beer, hot dogs, and summer air never felt like a special occasion, it felt like coming home.
On January 22, 2003, just one week before my fifth birthday, you signed a free agent contract with the Boston Red Sox. While most fans didn't think much about this new addition, you quickly showed us you had the skills and ambition to start as our designated hitter. Despite the heartbreaking loss in game seven of the ALCS, you gave the city of Boston something it hadn't felt in decades. Hope.
In 2004, for the first time in 86 years, the Boston Red Sox won the World Series. I was six, jumping up and down on my parents' bed. You were 28 and a first time World Series Champion. While the city of Boston rejoiced that the curse had finally come to an end, a new era of baseball quietly began. I like to call it, "The Reign of David Ortiz."
Baseball emerged, once again, as a unifying force. Red Sox fans were filled with a new spark of energy, locked into each pitch of the 162 game season. Although Bostonians are known for their intensity, you initiated a new wave of passion that dominated the city. Mr. Ortiz, you made us proud to be from New England.
In 2007, the Sox did it again, proving that 2004 was more than just a fluke. For the second time in my childhood, I understood the power of faith and resilience. The World Series was more than a victory, it was proof that when human beings come together, something magical happens.
Over the next eight years, you brought the city of Boston 274 home runs, 875 RBI, and millions of dollars in charity. In 2013 you proved that you are more than a Red Sox player, you are a Bostonian. While the nation stood still in the wake of tragedy, you served as a light in the darkness. I will never forget the moment that you grabbed the microphone, destroying our fear with the words, "This is our f*cking city." You reminded us that alone we are weak, but together there is no evil we cannot overcome.
That year, you carried the Red Sox to their third World Series Championship in less than ten years. 2004 was special, but I will forever hold onto your ability to heal a wounded city. Mr. Ortiz, you exemplify the phrase, "Boston Strong." You are a hero. You are a legend. And you are a Bostonian.
On behalf of Red Sox Nation, thank you for the memories. We will share them with our children so that they too will understand what it means to be a Bostonian.
With love,
Taylor Sacco
Source: Baseball-Reference
