BAGHDAD, Iraq -- It was three in the morning when they stumbled
bleary-eyed from their tents.
Ten die-hard Red Sox fans from the 119th Military Police Company got up
yesterday before dawn to watch Game 7, while the rest of the troops
slept.
Even here, at Baghdad International Airport, Specialist Donald Lanoie,
24, said he feels close to his beloved Sox.
"Ever since we were all in Little League, you used to make believe you
were the Red Sox players," said Lanoie, of Warren. Now, his team was on
the brink of greatness. A member of the Rhode Island National Guard,
Lanoie was in the middle of a war zone, watching the scene in the Bronx
on the Armed Forces network.
For Specialist Keith Shillan, 21, missing this moment wasn't an option,
not with his family history. "My dad brought me to see Yaz [Carl
Yastrzemski] put into the Hall of Fame," says Shillan, of Riverside.
"This is the hometown team."
Sitting in front of two big-screen TVs set up outside under a tent,
Shillan moved his legs nervously. The stocky redhead looked more anxious
watching the game than he had all week patroling Baghdad.
"I'm probably as nervous as the players are right now," he said.
The power of the Boston Red Sox proved truly global last night. These
military police officers, working in a war zone, were pulled to the game
like bugs to a light. In that way, these 10 MPs, sitting on plastic
chairs in a sand lot, were no different than the fans all across Red Sox
Nation. They brought their loyalty and eternal hope that maybe, just
maybe, this could be the year.
"It gets you away from reality," said Sgt. 1st Class John Cianci, of
North Smithfield. "No one is thinking about the mission they just did
and what they just did. They are thinking about the Red Sox."
The MPs had to make a few adjustments in their viewing rituals. Instead
of peanuts, they ate peanut butter on English muffins.
When the Red Sox hit a home run earlier in the game, naturally the crowd
rose to cheer. Cianci put his hands up to try to quiet some of the
noise, then he gave a round of silent high fives to his fellow fans. A
squad leader and a lieutenant sleep in a tent near the TV. They aren't
big baseball fans. But the 10 MPs cheered on.
Dawn started to break. They would probably miss the last few innings
when their patrols started. Even on the road, Sgt. Maj. Teddy Hebert, of
Pascoag, said he would make sure he found out the score.
CORRECTION: An earlier version of this report incorrectly spelled
the name of Specialist Keith Shillan.
