Everyone knows the story. Or they think they do.
Down 3-0 in the 2004 ALCS, the Boston Red Sox were staring into the abyss of another winter of "what ifs." It was the bottom of the ninth, Game 4, and the greatest closer to ever live, Mariano Rivera, was on the mound for the Yankees. Fenway Park felt like a funeral home. Honestly, most fans had already started rehearsing their excuses for why 86 years of failure was about to become 87.
Then Kevin Millar walked.
Enter a guy who hadn't even played in 11 days. He wasn't a superstar. He wasn't a household name. He was just a deadline acquisition named Dave Roberts, and he had one job.
The Trade Nobody Cared About
In late July 2004, the baseball world was vibrating because of the Nomar Garciaparra trade. When the Red Sox shipped their franchise icon to the Cubs, it felt like the end of an era. Somewhere in the fine print of that chaotic deadline day, the Dave Roberts Boston Red Sox era began.
Theo Epstein, the boy-wonder GM, sent a minor leaguer named Henri Stanley to the Dodgers to get Roberts. It was a move for a specialist. The Red Sox knew they had a roster full of "idiots" and "dirt dogs," but they lacked pure, unadulterated speed. Roberts was that speed. He wasn't there to hit home runs or sell jerseys; he was there for a very specific, hypothetical moment that hadn't happened yet.
During his 45 regular-season games with Boston, Roberts hit .256. Not exactly Hall of Fame stuff. He swiped five bases during that stretch, acting mostly as a late-inning defensive replacement or pinch runner. He was a role player in every sense of the word. But Terry Francona knew what he had on the bench.
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The Steal: Midnight at Fenway
The date was October 17, 2004, though technically it was past midnight by the time the drama peaked. The Yankees led 4-3. Rivera, with that devastating cutter, had just walked Millar. It was a rare lapse in control.
Roberts stepped onto the dirt at first base, and the entire stadium knew he was going. The Yankees knew he was going. Mariano Rivera certainly knew he was going. Rivera threw over to first three times. The second throw almost got him; Roberts had to dive back, his fingers just grazing the bag.
It was a psychological war.
Maury Wills, the legendary base stealer, had once told Roberts in spring training that one day he’d have to steal a base when everyone in the park knew it was coming. This was that day. On the first pitch to Bill Mueller, Roberts took off.
It wasn't a perfect jump, but it was enough. Jorge Posada, the Yankees catcher, delivered a "dart"—as the Hall of Fame later described it—to Derek Jeter. The tag was low and quick. Roberts slid headfirst, his left hand hitting the corner of the bag a fraction of a second before Jeter’s glove touched his arm.
Safe.
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The crowd didn't just cheer; they exhaled. That single act changed the geometry of the inning. Suddenly, the pressure shifted from the runner to the pitcher. Mueller eventually singled up the middle, Roberts flew around third to score, and the game was tied.
The Aftermath: More Than Just a Game
If Roberts gets thrown out there, the Red Sox lose. The "Curse of the Bambino" stays alive. The 2004 team is remembered as just another group that couldn't get it done.
Instead, the Dave Roberts Boston Red Sox connection became the spark for the greatest comeback in sports history. Boston won that game in 12 innings on a David Ortiz home run. Then they won Game 5. Then Game 6. Then Game 7. Then they swept the Cardinals in the World Series.
It's sort of wild to think about how little Roberts actually played for Boston. He appeared in 45 games, had a few dozen hits, and was traded away to the San Diego Padres that December for Jay Payton and Ramon Vazquez. He was a Red Sox player for less than half a year.
Yet, he never has to pay for a drink in Boston again.
Why the Steal Worked
- The Lead: Roberts took a massive lead even after three pickoff attempts. He forced Rivera to think about him rather than the hitter.
- The Slide: By going headfirst, he kept his body low, making Jeter’s tag more difficult.
- The Mentality: He admitted later that half his brain was screaming "Don't get thrown out," but he trusted his training.
The Legacy of a Role Player
We live in an era of "Super Teams" and "Big Three" lineups, but the 2004 Red Sox proved that championships are often won on the margins. Dave Roberts wasn't Manny Ramirez. He wasn't Pedro Martinez. He was a guy who understood his niche.
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His tenure in Boston was short, but it was surgical. He didn't even play in the World Series that year, as the Red Sox relied on their starters to sweep St. Louis. But without the steal, there is no World Series.
He finished his Boston career with a .772 OPS, which is decent but not spectacular. In the postseason, he didn't even record an official at-bat. He was purely a weapon on the basepaths.
What You Should Take Away
If you're looking at the Dave Roberts Boston Red Sox story through the lens of modern sports, there are a few actionable insights that still apply today, whether you're a coach, a player, or just a fan:
- Preparation over Participation: Roberts hadn't played in nearly two weeks before that ninth-inning entrance. Staying "game ready" mentally is what allowed him to execute physically.
- Identify the Pivot Point: Every project or game has a "bottleneck." For the 2004 Sox, it was the lack of speed against a top-tier closer. Identifying and filling that gap is why Theo Epstein is a legend.
- The Power of One Skill: You don't have to be the best at everything. If you are world-class at one specific thing—like stealing second off a Hall of Famer—you can change history.
To see the actual spikes Roberts wore during that steal, you have to go to the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. They’re sitting there in the "Starting Nine" exhibit. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the biggest moments in baseball history don't involve a bat at all. They just involve a pair of dirty shoes and a lot of guts.
If you find yourself in Cooperstown, look for the spikes. They're a small part of a massive collection, much like Roberts was a small part of a massive roster. But without them, the "idiots" never would have become champions.