THE "IDIOTS" REVERSE THE CURSE

October 30, 2004 ... After 86 years of legendary heartbreak, long-jilted Red Sox Nation found sweet release yesterday in a massive victory parade that turned crowded old Boston into a canyon of deafening euphoria.

Millions of people, the largest crowd ever to gather in the city, cheered their heroes by land and by water in a sustained howl of joy that stretched from Fenway Park, through downtown, and onto the Charles River in Duck Tour boats.

The world championship team, giddy and playful, responded in kind. Pedro Martinez danced. David Ortiz pointed at fans. Johnny Damon flashed the peace sign. Keith Foulke videotaped the spectacle. And Manny Ramirez held a fan-written sign about shortstop Derek Jeter of the archrival New York Yankees. "Jeter is playing golf today," the sign read. "This is better."

The drizzle-spattered route featured delirious cheering, ear-to-ear smiles, and outstretched hands. The crowd jammed shoulder-to- shoulder, sometimes as many as 100 deep, behind 30,000 feet of steel barricades along the 3-mile land route. But despite the unprecedented numbers and a mass transit system stressed to the limit, the parade proceeded smoothly. Gone, it seemed, were the frustration and resignation of 86 seasons past. The emotion of the day was full-throated exhilaration, and none of the fans were holding back. The parade route was lined with screaming fans from its beginnings near Fenway Park. They stood 20 deep on the sidewalks after the 10:15 a.m. start, swelling to 50, 75, and 100 deep as the motorcade crept past the Prudential Center, Boston Common, and Government Center. The effect was peaceful pandemonium. Fans stood on rooftops, climbed traffic lights, leaned out of high-rise apartments, and sat on windowsills to improve their view. The throng spanned all ages, as infants in strollers and grandparents in wheelchairs found places in a bobbing sea of red.

"My Dad lived for this," a sign read near the foot of Charles Street. The poster, which included a picture of the fan's father and his life span Nov. 26, 1925 to March 10, 2004 poignantly encapsulated the deep, cross-generation bonds that bind the team to New England. "Our parents and grandparents thank you," another sign read.

The city estimated the crowd at 3.2 million, based on the depth of the crowd and the length of the route, and said the estimate took into account that many fans left Boylston Street and went to watch the procession a second time when it passed by on the Charles River.

Before the boats arrived, a bagpiper marched up and down the Massachusetts Avenue bridge playing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." A school-age boy strolled the length of the bridge, high-fiving everyone and yelling, "Go Sox." Several cars blasted "Dirty Water," the Sox's unofficial victory song, from their speakers.

As the Duck Tour boats slipped out of sight down Boylston Street, many fans headed down Massachusetts Avenue to watch the parade again from the banks of the Charles River. Some fans smoked victory cigars. A number of revelers masked their celebratory cocktails in oversize Red Sox mugs, paper coffee cups, and brown bags. About 1 p.m., when the first of the boats maneuvered past the corner of Massachusetts Avenue and Storrow Drive, the bridge erupted in a show of flashbulbs and flailing arms.

As much as the celebration connected fans to their long-suffering past, the motorcade also allowed them a savor-the-moment chance to acknowledge this team's special season and the day's special moment of triumph. In Boston's long history, never have so many smiles been seen on so many.