Five years ago Red Sox Nation was set free.

Free from "The Curse of the Bambino". Free from Yankee fans chanting "1918" and waving pictures of Babe Ruth. Free from being lumped in with the Cubs (101 years and counting). Free from wondering if wondering if we would see the Red Sox win the World Series before we died.

We all remember the sequence of events: down 3-0 to the Evil Empire in the ALCS. 19-8. Walkoff hits by Papi in the wee hours of the morning in games 4 and 5. Curt Schilling's bloody sock. Damon's grand slam. Celebrating the AL pennant on the Yankee Stadium lawn. Opening the World Series against the Cardinals at Fenway. The weird sound Bellhorn's home run made when it hit the foul pole. Back to Foulke. Red Sox are World Champions. Can you believe it?

I really started following the Red Sox intently when I was 10 years old and had lived through so many disappointments in those 30 years. The September collapse in 1974. Losing game 7 to the Reds in '75. Bucky Bleeping Dent in '78. Bill Buckner in '86. A long playoff losing streak with sweeps by the A's ('88 and '90) and Indians ('95). Grady Little and Aaron Boone in 2003.

October 27, 2004 washed that all away. We had defeated the Yankees in the greatest comeback in baseball history and swept the Cardinals. I finally knew what it was like to see my team win the whole thing. Winning again in 2007 was great, and I would love to see a few more parades through Boston, but nothing is going to ever match 2004.