E-Mail This Article to a Friend Misery loves company: HBO’s The Curse of the Bambino hits town BY CHRISTOPHER YOUNG

Just as Red Sox fans are starting to feel like this really — really — could be the year, along comes HBO with its spellbinding hourlong sports documentary The Curse of the Bambino. Loosely based on Boston Globe sports columnist Dan Shaughnessy’s 1990 book, the program takes a look at the 84 years (and counting) in Boston Red Sox history since Boston won its last World Series, in 1918. The "curse" stems from the fact that the Sox have not won a world championship since they traded pitcher/outfielder George Herman "Babe" Ruth to the New York Yankees in 1920, while the Bronx Bombers have managed to win 26, starting in 1923.

New Englanders are familiar with the curse, since its supposed presence continues to confound the hopes and dreams of Red Sox fans each and every autumn. Its specter grew even more lifelike when the Yankees collected four more World Series titles in the period between 1996 and 2000. The Sox, meanwhile, have managed to reach the Fall Classic only four times since 1918 — in 1946, 1967, 1975, and 1986 — and managed to lose game seven in each and every one of those appearances. Pinstriper fans are quick to remind Bostonians that their team has actually lost more World Series (12) than the Red Sox have even appeared in during that stretch.

HBO does a nice job illustrating Sox fans’ frustrations, bringing together a wide assortment of local sports personalities and regular fans for a broad cross-section of opinions, remembrances, and, ultimately, tales of heartbreak and woe. Narrated by homeboy Ben Affleck (whatever happened to that guy?), The Curse of the Bambino features snippets of conversation from media types like sports radio’s Glenn Ordway, Ted Sarandis and Eddie Andelman, Shaughnessy and the late Globe scribe Will McDonough, actor/comedians Denis Leary, Lenny Clarke, and Steven Wright, and Emmy-winning actor Michael Chiklis (The Shield). All detail childhood and adult memories of their lifelong devotion to the Sox. Though outsiders might consider their descriptions typical Red Sox–fan whining, their comments (along with those of many others) are interspersed and edited in a way that allows the casual viewer to empathize, if not flat-out identify, with those tales of Red Sox frustration.

Of course, no history of the Red Sox curse would be complete without documented examples, and the producers do a good job of tracing the reasons for some of the team’s difficulties, including the limitations of Fenway Park, the owners’ stubborn resistance to hiring minority players and to retrofitting the roster to the dimensions of the park, and the (pre-Clemens) year-in, year-out lack of pitching depth. The program pretty much breezes by the whole Ted Williams era — which saw just one World Series appearance over the course of the Splendid Splinter’s 22 years on the team — in favor of focusing on the lack of black players on the roster, in particular the franchise’s despicable turning away of such potential superstars as Jackie Robinson and Willie Mays.

For modern viewers, The Curse really heats up when it moves into the ’60s, when Yaz and Lonborg led the team to the Impossible Dream Season in 1967, followed by the Cincinnati-Boston World Series classic in 1975, the disastrous collapse of 1978, and culminating with the tragic horror of 1986’s game six against the Mets.

The program succeeds in taking some of the heat off Sox owner Harry Frazee for trading Ruth in the first place, and also features some of the outlandish rituals folks have performed in recent years in the hopes of eradicating the curse. The show ends on a nice uplifting "What if?" note by asking its panel members the question often raised by the Red Sox’ most hopeful followers: what would it be like in this town if the Sox finally did win it? It is thought-provoking and interesting to hear some of the respondents say it would lead to a feeling of "Now what will we do?" and the evaporation of the club’s inherent "loser’s mystique." But the truth is that if the Red Sox won the World Series, the city of Boston would most likely shut down for days, and the celebration itself would last for weeks.

For outsiders watching this documentary, the steady stream of near-misses and late-season meltdowns may elicit a bit of sympathy, but whether it will convince them that the curse is real remains to be seen. I myself have my doubts, although as WWZN’s Andelman says, "All these things cannot be coincidences. I do think there’s a curse because you can’t get that close that many times and fail."

Had I, like Shaughnessy, been a consultant on the show, I would have tried to inject the following factoids into the story to hit home even harder the existence of some kind of otherworldly force that has prevented the Red Sox from tasting the ultimate victory. Sure, it was only an hourlong commercial-free program, but if the Curse producers wanted to add even more evidence to the growing legend of misery that envelops the team, they should have devoted some time to the fact that key injuries late in the season have bedeviled the Sox’ post-season play on a regular basis. To wit:

• When the Sox ultimately lost the Series in 1946 to the Cardinals (epitomized by Enos Slaughter’s dash from first to home), American League MVP Ted Williams was hampered by a sore elbow, and the man who put up huge numbers all season long (.342, 38 HRs, 123 RBIs) managed just five hits in 25 at-bats and just a single RBI in what would be his only World Series appearance.

• During the magical pennant race of 1967, Boston’s own Tony Conigliaro was hit in the face during an August 18 game against the California Angels, prematurely ending a 20-HR, 67-RBI season after just 95 games. One can only imagine what a healthy Tony C might have contributed to the World Series effort against the Cardinals.

• In 1975, first-year player Jim Rice — who would ultimately finish second in the Rookie of the Year race to teammate Fred Lynn — was hit in the hand by a Vern Ruhle pitch in the final week of the season. The broken bone forced Rice (.309, 22 HRs, 102 RBIs) to miss the entire post-season, and again the shorthanded Boston squad lost in the Fall Classic’s seventh game. It is certainly not outlandish to envision that Rice’s potential contributions and myriad talents might have lifted Boston over the top against the favored Reds.

• In 1986, late-season Sox acquisition Tom Seaver was put on the disabled list prior to the playoffs because of a sore ankle. Seaver, who at age 41 was definitely past his prime but still put up decent numbers (5-7, 3.80 ERA, 72 Ks in 16 games), could have conceivably provided a significant spark in the rotation in the World Series, especially considering the opponent: the team whose cap adorns his Hall of Fame plaque, the Mets. Instead, the Sox, with a 2-1 Series lead at Fenway, had to throw out on the mound Al Nipper, whose regular-season record of 10-12 (5.38 ERA) was hardly worthy of a World Series start. Not surprisingly, the Mets won, 6-2, to even the Series.

• Who gets his first blister of his career in game six of the World Series — the potential clinchah? Roger Clemens, that’s who, and it was that irritation that allegedly forced the AL Cy Young Award winner out of the memorable contest with a 3-2 eighth-inning lead. We all know what happened in the next two innings.

(Speaking of that game, it would have been interesting for HBO to note that after getting shelled in relief during Fenway’s 1986 home opener, beleaguered closer Bob Stanley said, "[The fans] booed me today, but they’ll be cheering for me when I’m on the mound ready to close out the World Series." As all Sox fans know, he actually did get that opportunity, and managed to wild-pitch the tying run home — just prior to his inducing Mookie Wilson into his harmless grounder to Bill Buckner at first. Ahem.)

The Curse of the Bambino wisely spends the bulk of its broadcast on that 1986 game-six loss, the game that epitomizes Red Sox fans’ despair. By intercutting interviews with its panel, game highlights, champagne-laden locker-room scenes, and even shots of a fan-filled Boston tavern preparing to explode with glee upon the team’s eventual championship, the sequence makes for a haunting and (for Sox fans) disturbingly painful trip back to the surreal happenings that occurred in the bottom of the 10th inning on October 25 (actually, the 26th, since it was just after midnight). The alternately hopeful/downtrodden recollections and looks on the faces of the interviewees are fascinating, particularly in the build-up to the Mets’ rally, followed by Boston’s inexplicable disintegration, and capped by Buckner’s error. Particularly humorous (if you will) are the Vin Scully TV-broadcast impressions, and the story of forlorn Sox followers aimlessly wandering the Newton streets after the game.

For the most part, though, HBO covers all the bases, for better or worse, in this work: the Babe’s rapscallion behavior, which precipitated the trade to New York; the all-white line-up that characterized Boston teams for decades; the controversial plays (though not referenced, the Ed Armbrister non-interference call that turned the 1975 Series, and the Lou Piniella lost-in-the-sun outfield stab that derailed a Sox rally in the ’78 playoff game); an extended feature on Bucky "Bleepin’" Dent’s homer in that same game; and even the glorious moments such as Carlton Fisk’s pole-scratcher in 1975 and Dave Henderson’s improbable dinger that turned around the 1986 ALCS in Anaheim.

Still, this documentary is, for Red Sox fans, "like watching The Wizard of Oz, and then Dorothy dies in the end. And she doesn’t just die, she’s ripped apart by the flying monkeys, and Toto eats her remains" (as Wakefield’s Matt Wilson muses in the show).

But it will all be laughed off and looked back upon — perhaps even fondly — if the Red Sox manage to shake the jinx and somehow capture that long-awaited World Series title next month.

If not, then New England video stores and libraries will undoubtedly file HBO’s splendid work in its proper place: right next to the 1986 World Series Highlights video — in the "Horror" section.

"Sporting Eye" runs Mondays and Fridays at BostonPhoenix.com. Christopher Young can be reached at cyoung[a]phx.com