E-Mail This Article to a Friend The biggest deal of all BY CHRISTOPHER YOUNG

In a year or so, I’ll have to deal with my eight-year-old’s growing suspicions about Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy, but in the meantime, a more challenging question was recently posed to me.

"What’s the big deal about the Red Sox winning, anyway?"

Ah, innocence. In the eight years of her life, my daughter has seen her father, as well as other friends and family members, perhaps make too big a fuss over the local baseball franchise. After all, they’re just playing a game, and in the grand scheme of things, who really cares about how any team does?

So as 2004 draws to a close, the greatest sports story of this or perhaps any other year in New England lore must be re-evaluated and put into perspective for a kid her age. Millions of words have already been written, and countless books are likely being penned as we speak about The Year That the Music Finally Played, but I’ll try to sum up for her in just a few paragraphs what made the Red Sox’ World Series victory something to cherish around here — and a very big deal.

My dear:

What one must first understand is the concept of being deprived of something. It’s like each Christmas or Easter, you expect Santa or the Easter Bunny to bring you something. Each year you hope that something good will happen, and perhaps you do all the right things to ensure that great bounties will come your way on that grand morning, whether it’s through behavior, apparel, or even prayer. You come to expect that prize. So you eagerly mold that hope and desire into a passion that consumes you, and the sense of anticipation and impending reward is unbridled. You can’t wait.

But what if it never does happen as you imagine? What if Santa and the Long-Eared One always come to someone else’s house but never to yours, and worse — if the presents are delivered on a yearly basis to the house of the neighbor you can’t stand? How would you feel on those frequent occasions when you actually heard the sled on the roof, or saw the Easter eggs being hidden around the house, but then you were stopped on your way down the stairs that morning with the excuse that "There’s been a change in plans"? What you thought would be waiting for you has instead been suddenly snatched away. There are no presents, there are no goodies, but again, someone else will surely be enjoying them.

Maybe next year.

After a while, you may get tired of waiting for something that doesn’t come, and maybe even come to expect getting nothing each holiday. Still, there’s always that distant chance that maybe this year will be different. So you hold out hope that perhaps something strange and magical will change your luck this season.

That kind of feeling is what Red Sox fans have gone through each and every year. And their anticipation tortures them not just in the days leading up to Christmas, but all year long. Every single day.

You probably get some teasing at school, but there is a different kind of teasing involved with grown-ups. That is the kind of teasing that comes from having something appear so close to being yours, only to have it stolen away at the last second. For example, imagine that you actually got the puppy you wanted this past Christmas, only to find out that Santa didn’t quite finish the job; he had actually found a lost puppy, delivered it to our house, and then the rightful owners showed up the next day and took him away. That is a heartbreaking kind of moment, and people who like the Red Sox have had those kinds of things happen to them every once in a while.

In a sense, then, it’s like Christmas never comes. Oh, you may think that it actually might this year, but then things don’t work out again, and you’re left with empty stockings and the proverbial lump of coal. Unlike the neighbors.

But then ...

Perhaps the best kind of present to receive is not only the one you want the most, but the one delivered in a most unexpected way, or when you least anticipated it. And that gift was finally delivered to New Englanders this fall, when people around here had resigned themselves to the fact that again the mean neighbors would celebrate, while we would merely hear the echoes of the party.

In mid October, it seemed like the same old thing would happen again: not only would the neighbors whoop it up noisily, but they’d throw their trash and half-eaten sandwiches on our lawn. They were not only enjoying the party at our expense, but were about to embarrass us by moving the festivities to our back yard and make us feel even worse.

But something happened, just when it seemed the situation couldn’t get any worse. People around here still believed in Santa and miracles, and things went down differently. In the middle of the deepest, darkest night, the police came and interrupted the party next door. The people in charge of such things decided that we deserved to have some fun for a change, and in the blink of an eye, Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy all showed up with stardust at our doorstep and delivered the goods for which we had been waiting so long. It was our turn, and we got to enjoy the biggest party ever, highlighted by the best gift ever.

I hope that someday you’ll get a chance to enjoy the same party when you’re old enough to appreciate it yourself. But in the meantime, I hope this parable kind of answers your question.

"What’s the big deal about the Red Sox winning?"

If you only knew.

Happy new year, little girl.

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