They started arriving late Friday night, planting lawn chairs, wrapping themselves in blankets, staking out spaces near the yellow and blue stripe across Boylston Street. By dawn, they were a healthy throng, and people were still streaming toward the place where seemingly everyone wanted to be: the Boston Marathon finish line.
For the people who gathered here, the rolling rally was about more than a celebration of a World Series victory. They had congregated to cheer the Red Sox, sure, but they had also come to celebrate something larger, more universal — a community that had joined together to lay down a new, happy memory on the locus of one of Boston’s worst. They had come to cheer themselves. Full story for BostonGlobe.com subscribers.