Of all the euphoric sports celebrations that have marked the advance of Western civilization since Ben-Hur won that chariot race in Rome nearly 2,000 years ago, nothing in memory quite matched the unbridled exuberance and joy that swept through the entire Red Sox Nation on Oct. 27, the night Boston won its first World Series in 86 years and threw off the Curse of the Bambino forever. The most memorable denouement to this tortuous tale was not the spectacle of 3.2 million New Englanders descending on the Boston victory parade route three days later. No, the most touching twist of all in this serpentine narrative involved the hundreds of people who repaired to New England cemeteries after the last out to kneel at the graves of deceased friends and relatives-supine Red Sox fans who had spent their lives waiting in vain for that final victory-to share with them the glorious news and leave tokens of the triumph at their tombstones. "We all had relatives who did not live long enough to see the Red Sox win," says Cheri Griffin, president of the Bosox' fan club. "A lot of people went to cemeteries to plant Red Sox pennants at the graves. People were kneeling down by graves and telling the stories.
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