October 21, 1975; October 25, 1986; October 19, 2004

With apologies to long-suffering fans of the Cubs and Indians (and lately the Pirates and Royals), nobody does anguish like the Red Sox.  In the 1940s, ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s, Boston reached the World Series once each decade.  Each time, the Red Sox faced what was arguably the best team of the decade: the 1946 and 1967 Cardinals, the 1975 Reds, and the 1986 Mets.  Each time, they lost the Series in seven games. 

Baseball does not always lead to a tidy climax.  Sometimes the crucial at-bat is in the seventh inning; sometimes the unforgettable game is the penultimate one.  This week contains anniversaries of three iconic sixth games, immediately recognizable in just two or three words even to fans in red-chowder states.

Fisk’s body English: The sixth game of the 1975 World Series.  Possibly the greatest baseball game ever played.  Both teams blow three-run leads.  The game stretches on to midnight (this was once unusual).  Carlton Fisk hits a ball high down the left-field line, takes a few steps, leans, waves for the ball to stay fair – it hits the foul pole, home run, Fisk leaps in the air and then circles the bases.  Game over.  (A cameraman in Fenway Park’s left-field wall was supposed to follow the ball as it flew towards him, but instead stayed focused on Fisk’s gestures.  He later claimed it was a mistake, but he was distracted by a rat rummaging around near his feet.)  Cincinnati takes game seven.  Sox lose the Series, heroically.

Buckner’s error: The sixth game of the 1986 World Series.  Boston has a two-run lead in the bottom of the tenth inning, and is poised to win its first championship in sixty-eight years.  Two Mets out, nobody on.  Then: a single, another single, a run-scoring single.  A wild pitch ties the game.  Mookie Wilson hits a ground ball down to Bill Buckner at first.  Buckner has played the entire Series on sore knees and ankles and a strained Achilles tendon.  Heroically?  You decide: he batted .188 for the Series with one RBI, and this easy grounder skitters through his legs.  The Mets win, then win game seven.  Sox lose the Series, ignominiously.

The bloody sock: The sixth game of the 2004 ALCS.  The Yankees and Red Sox renew their rivalry, one in which the Red Sox have traditionally played Bambi to the New Yorkers’ Godzilla.  The Yankees took a 3-0 lead in the series, embarrassing the Red Sox in Fenway in game three, 19-8.  No baseball team had ever lost a series after winning the first three, but Boston clawed back, rallying late to tie games four and five and winning them in twelve and fourteen innings respectively.  None of that will matter if the Yankees win game six back in the Bronx.  Boston ace Curt Schilling, who signed with the team in the hopes of pitching such a game, has a dislocated tendon in his right ankle.  Dr. William Morgan creates an artificial sheath by sewing the skin deep into the ankle tissue, allowing Schilling to pitch.  He holds the Yankees to four hits and one run in seven innings, despite evident bleeding around the ankle during the game.  Boston wins, 4-2, then wins game seven, then defeats St. Louis in four straight to end all curses and win the World Series, cathartically.