A perpetual state for visitors

Up here in the rogue state of Massachusetts, life goes on.

Politicians from the American outback run against its diversity, its liberalism, painting the state as an outsider. And assorted Vandals, Huns, and Visigoths from New York batter at its civilized gates, presumably forever.

Those perpetual Yankees were trying to sweep the league series last night at the end of a weekend when visitors flocked to New England to see the autumn leaves.

Families from all over the world, seeking the education and culture of Massachusetts, visited colleges within sight of the glowing lights of Fenway Park. The streets were full of shoppers and strollers. But the people seemed muted as they awaited the inevitable.

"Now promise me you won't cry tonight," a father told a son as they trudged into Fenway Park last night in basic Sox red and blue garb.

"But what if they lose?" the boy asked.

"You can't cry," the father said.

The only tears on this night were tears of joy after the Red Sox clubbed the Yankees, 6-4, in 12 innings.

Boston has cried enough over the past 86 years. New terrible things have happened in the last few days as the Yankees jumped to a 3-0 lead in this series, throttling the joy of an entire season.

"We thought [Curt] Schilling and Pedro [Martinez] would win, and then Bronson [Arroyo, Saturday]," Johnny Damon said sadly late Saturday night. "We thought we'd be 3-0 right now."

"It's not good," Damon said about the impact on the fans from the 4-hour-20-minute, 19-8 horror. "We put together a team that could do it. We've disappointed them."

The old green place rocked all summer, with 81 consecutive sellouts. People flocked to Boston not just for the research centers and the hospitals but also for the lusty freedom to drink a beer and bellow a chant.

By last evening, hope was minimal. Schilling was clomping around with a protective boot over his injured right ankle, his status unsure even if his turn should come around again this season. Martinez was resting up for a potential fifth game today. And Arroyo had to be pulled after two innings Saturday night.

Jason Varitek was asked if the team had let down because of Schilling's dislocated tendon in his right ankle. "No, I think guys are too professional for them to let it happen," Varitek said. "Now if he wins Game 1 on his injured ankle, you have a different story."

These are the sad tales that get repeated in Fenway from generation to generation, including Ted Williams's sore elbow going into the 1946 World Series and the relative guilt of Bob Stanley and Rich Gedman during that grotesque 10th inning in 1986.

Only 10 days ago, the neighborhood around Fenway Park was warm and joyous, after the Sox had swept the Angels. In the North End, somebody had placed a dark blue Sox shirt on the broad shoulders of the statue of Paul Revere, seated atop his horse with no name.

"How did they get up there?" asked a student on a class outing.

"Maybe they carried a ladder," his classmate said.

All over Red Sox Nation, there was hope of crushing the Yankees or whoever materialized as the opponent. Since then, in three brutal games, the autumnal gloom hunkered over Fenway, once again.

However, the baseball sadness is there only if you search for it. Boston does quite fine on its own as a business hub, as an intimate hometown.

Friends who grew up in Newton or Brookline rave about their childhoods, taking the T, the pleasant mass transit system, into town. And it still feels that way.

People on the Green Line and the Red Line and the Blue Line seem verbal and intelligent. Students carry violins in the subway as they shuttle from home to class to lessons.

The other day in the Museum of Fine Arts, I heard a grandmother escorting her grandson to an exhibit of ancient Olympic treasures. The grandson, who appeared to be a precocious 7 or 8, was not comfortable with the statues and depictions of the athletes.

"You have to get past the nudity," the grandmother said gently, changing the subject to olive wreaths and discuses.

It is hard to walk around Back Bay on a fall weekend and not ask yourself, "How come I never lived here?" A quick scan of the real estate section suggests you probably won't be buying a two-bedroom on Beacon Street any time soon.

Massachusetts is a wonderful place to visit, in any season, even with the resident gloom of the Red Sox. Politicians from distant states whack away at it every four years. The Yankees tend to do it even more frequently.