Recovery, Remembrance, and the Red Sox

Every year on Patriots’ Day, the Greater Boston area comes together to celebrate the dedication of runners from around the world at the pinnacle of the sport. The Boston Marathon was first held in 1897 to bring the spirit of the Olympics to the city. Having grown significantly since its founding, the marathon is considered one of the most important races globally, attracting runners and fans alike to recognize the talent and preparation required to qualify for the event.

However, these annual celebrations were interrupted in 2013, when two explosive devices detonated near the finish line in what would be the largest domestic terrorist attack since 9/11. The lives of three spectators were lost that day, and more than 260 others were injured. Massachusetts Institute of Technology officer Sean Collier also passed away in the line of duty. 

Though the brothers responsible for the Boston Marathon Bombing were eventually caught, their actions permanently disrupted thousands of lives and left Boston facing years of recovery. And yet, the marathon was still held again a year later. The wreckage was cleared, and Boylston Street, the site of the bombs, was reopened. Boston stabilized, gradually returning to normal but with an ugly scar that the people refused to hide; instead, they used it to unite in the recovery. 

Boston Strong

Forty minutes before the bombings, thousands of fans streamed from Fenway Park. They were happy: the Red Sox had just beaten the Tampa Bay Rays, and now they could celebrate the runners as they crossed the finish line. However, consecutive booms upended the once-jovial crowd. The players, though, did not learn of the bombing until they were en route to the airport.

Though these players hailed from across the United States and even the world, they acknowledged Boston as their home—one that had just been attacked, one they had to leave for a series in Cleveland. Given Boston’s deep baseball culture, the Red Sox players seemingly had a responsibility to lead the city through recovery. “It felt wrong leaving. We’re just a baseball team, but it was still home. We’re like, ‘Are we running from this?’” third baseman Will Middlebrooks said to the “Boston Herald.”

Landing 550 miles away from Boston, the men felt frustrated, angry, and hurt. However, at a team dinner the same night as the bombing, it became clear the Red Sox would not let the tragedy define them. “Usually, [at] team dinners, there’s a couple guys that miss. Everybody was there. You could get a sense that … this is our time,” reliever Joel Hanrahan later said.

No one would have blamed the Red Sox if they had lost the game right after the bombing—but they knew they had a responsibility to represent their city, especially in such daunting times. In their dugout, for everyone to see, they hung a jersey with no name—just the words “Boston Strong” and 617, the Boston area code. Over the three-game series, the Red Sox went on to sweep the Indians.

“Boston Strong” had become the rallying cry for the city, created by students at Emerson College. It was spread on shirts in bright blue and yellow, the same colors as the finish line of the marathon, and soon it represented the entire recovery effort. The slogan rapidly grew, and the One Fund Boston used it to raise millions of dollars in aid for victims. The team, too, adopted the phrase with Middlebrooks being one of the first to publicly endorse it.

This is Our F-ing City

When the Red Sox finally returned to Boston on Thursday night, everyone was sheltered inside their homes. The bombers were still at large. Throughout the city, people waited with bated breath for the next inkling of information about the manhunt. The Red Sox were scheduled to play the Kansas City Royals at home the next day, but the lockdown postponed the game.

When the perpetrators were caught, a wave of relief swept over the city: it seemed like they could now move on from the terror and focus on healing. Torey Lovullo, a Red Sox coach at the time who was originally from California, watched the announcement live and felt compelled to act. “I actually went down to as close to the finish line as I could get and celebrated with the people. I considered myself a Bostonian, and I was so proud to stand with them and unite with them,” Lovullo recalled. 

Before their first game following the arrest, players and staff toured hospitals to meet with victims and hospital personnel. “You go into these rooms, and their eyes just lit up and their mood lit up because they saw Boston Red Sox players. I felt such a responsibility from then on out … that we were playing for more than just our organization,” catcher David Ross relayed. These visits evolved into lasting bonds between the team and survivors lasting past the initial recovery.

At 1:00 p.m., with fans packed into Fenway Park, a powerful pregame ceremony took place. Everyone who helped the city in its time of crisis was honored, including law enforcement, firefighters, city leadership, and medical workers. When the players took the field, there was a notable difference in their uniforms: instead of the usual “Red Sox,” the lettering on each player’s chest read “Boston.” For that Saturday game, the players were representing more than their team; they symbolized the strength, resilience, and unity of the city—something no one could strip away.

After the ceremonial first pitch, a soon-to-be Red Sox legend, David “Big Papi” Ortiz, made an iconic speech. Ortiz first joined Boston in 2003, helping end the 86-year World Series drought. One of the best in the league, the designated hitter was an integral part of the team. As such, his injury-related absence throughout the 2012 season was reflected in the team’s final standings. He continued to miss games throughout the beginning of the 2013 season, staying in Boston during that Cleveland series to rehab. However, Ortiz would make his season debut that Saturday.

In just a few words, Ortiz summed up the sentiment in Boston: “This is our fucking city, and nobody gonna dictate our freedom.” The pain that struck the city would never be forgotten, but they refused to let that hurt define them.

Towards the Finish Line

Over the months that followed, the Red Sox refused to back down. After finishing last in their division the year before, the team finished 97-65 to earn the first spot in the American League East, tied for best in the majors. As a team, the Red Sox led the entire league in runs. Capping off such a momentous season, the Red Sox defeated the Tampa Bay Rays and Detroit Tigers to reach the World Series. Facing the St. Louis Cardinals, they won it all in game six—a home game in Boston as a fitting end to the season. 

During the celebratory parade, the team stopped at the finish line of the marathon. One player took the trophy and placed it on the finish line. “I wanted to take a scene of tragedy and also make it a scene of triumph,” recounted Jonny Gomes. That was the role of the 2013 Red Sox: taking tragedy and shaping it into an unbreakable bond throughout the city. The team filled the gap that emerged: when the people needed something to believe in, the Red Sox rose up.

Forever Stronger 

On April 21, 2014, as runners lined up for the 118th Boston Marathon, the thousands of supporters now celebrated more than the efforts of the runners: they celebrated the lives and memories of everyone who had been affected a year prior. What was meant to terrorize the city instead invigorated it with 9,000 more runners participating compared to 2013. 

We often forget the role that sports play in our lives. We let team rivalries and national competitions divide us instead of allowing these games to unite different people. The story of the Red Sox in the wake of the Boston Marathon bombings serves as a reminder of the role sports play in upholding community.

In “A Farewell to Arms,” Ernest Hemingway writes: “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” Boston demonstrates this perfectly. The bombing should have devastated the city, ruining a historic race and throwing the city into sorrow. And it did, but not for long. With the help of the Red Sox, the city made sense of the situation and found a deeper meaning in the disaster.

Many believe that sports should serve as an escape, allowing fans to take their minds off the anxiety that plagues daily life. However, this argument breaks down when it comes to player agency. Some claim that this “escape” requires silence from athletes with total detachment from the world around them. But these leagues and their athletes don’t live in a bubble. They are affected by daily events just as much as the next person. Ortiz was in Boston throughout the manhunt, just like any other resident. Middlebrooks, Ross, Lovullo, and the entire roster felt the pain and destruction just like any other resident.

Sports do not serve as an escape because we can forget everything and tune out the world outside. They serve as an escape because they provide a space for us to process, understand, and unify against the toils of life. The Red Sox did not carry victims away from the explosions. They did not perform the surgeries. They did not capture those responsible. But the team helped the city heal differently—they served as a reminder that we can keep fighting and emerge after a great loss.

Tyler Dang ’28 (tylerdang@college.harvard.edu) enjoyed the 130th Boston Marathon.