Game 7 of 2004 ALCS was a new chapter in Red Sox-Yankees rivalry, one with an unexpected twist

But as Game 7 of the 2004 American League Championship Series dawned, it wasn’t the Red Sox who dreaded the game. Even in hindsight, with the outcome assured, you can feel the nerves, fear, and anxiety of long-suffering Red Sox Nation. They radiate off the television screen. Such was the burden of playing for, working for, or rooting for the Red Sox 20 years ago, when the inevitability of failure clung to the franchise like a sodden sweatshirt. That’s what I recall from covering that series from the other side of the rivalry as a reporter for the Bergen (N.J.) Record. And as I neared the end of the third and final episode of the thrilling Netflix documentary released this past week, “The Comeback: the 2004 Boston Red Sox,” that sense of dread in New York is what I remember most. Because it was so foreign. And because it felt so certain. So while the Red Sox deservedly and delightfully celebrate the curse-breaking series from two decades ago, as fans enjoy the three-hour reminiscence produced by brothers Colin and Nick Barnicle, lifelong Red Sox fans themselves, that series left a lasting impact on the Yankees, as well. It endures as one of the greatest sports stories, leaving a lasting imprint on reporters who covered it, too, even ones (hand raised) who’d just come off three seasons on the New York Giants beat to reenter the baseball world. Some memories: The pall that hung over Yankee Stadium that Wednesday night, Oct. 20, was palpable. From 3-0 up to tied at three games apiece, the Yankees were shaken to their core. No matter what pageantry they tried — bringing Bucky Dent out to throw the first pitch, having Yogi Berra there to catch it, making sure to mention the game was being played on Mickey Mantle’s birthday, playing Yankeeographies on an endless scoreboard loop — the overwhelming sense of inevitable failure permeated everything pinstriped. And worse, the Yankees were stuck with Kevin Brown as their Game 7 starter. No favorite of manager Joe Torre since breaking his hand in a fit of pique after an early-September start, Brown had lasted only two innings in Game 3, managing 29 strikes on 59 pitches. But the Yankees had no choice but to hold their nose and send him out there. He was charged with the loss, gone after 1⅓ innings and five earned runs. But he wasn’t alone in failure — Yankee hitters were clutching their bats so tight they couldn’t buy a hit. Alex Rodriguez went 1 for his last 17. Gary Sheffield 2 for his last 17. Both terrorized the Sox the first three games, but it was Johnny Damon, who batted .103 in the first six, who delivered two home runs in Game 7, including the second-inning grand slam that sealed the Yankees’ fate. Never saw a tighter team. Of all the players who didn’t deliver for the Yankees, none was more shocking than Mariano Rivera. As good as the Hall of Fame closer appeared from afar, he was even better in person. Covering Rivera was like getting an extra inning to write your game story, because he so rarely blew a save. Before allowing the Dave Roberts stolen base in Game 4 that set the stage for David Ortiz’s 12th-inning walkoff homer (side note, the play wouldn’t be the same with today’s pickoff rules), Rivera had notched 30 postseason saves with a 0.75 ERA since 1996. He was automatic, and showed as much in Games 1 and 2. He saved both, going 1⅓ innings in each. In Game 2, he struck out Damon with a runner on third in the eighth and fooled Ortiz and Kevin Millar with his cut fastball in the ninth. But Rivera blew saves in Games 4 and 5. Somewhat forgotten is that he did it all amid personal tragedy, having returned just in time for the series from his native Panama, where he attended the funeral of his wife’s cousin and her teenage son. They died in a freak electrical accident in a pool at Rivera’s house. As Rivera told my colleague Bob Klapisch at the time, “It’s been tough for me. Sometimes you don’t understand why things like this happen, so you keep your faith and pray. But it’s been tough for me and my family.” Rivera was always like that, forthright and accountable, but also human and open. My personal memory from the oh-so-crowded confines of Fenway’s visiting clubhouse was him asking to put a hand on my belly when he found out I was pregnant, saying a small prayer for a daughter who would be born the following May. Torre was a four-time World Series champ with the Yankees, but that 2004 collapse was his last best chance. And it included some questionable decisions, including not attempting a bunt against the ailing and immobile Curt Schilling in Game 6. Torre seemed skeptical of Schilling’s injury, saying then, “We are not necessarily of a mind to believe that there’s a lot wrong with him in that regard.” He might have been wise to force Schilling to prove it. And while Torre’s quick Game 7 hook of Brown is hard to argue, replacing him with Javier Vazquez to face Damon with the bases loaded overlooked the fact Damon had hit two homers off Vazquez June 29 and that Vazquez had allowed 33 homers in the regular season, most of any Yankee pitcher. The documentary did a great job recounting the bizarre quest for A-Rod and how the Sox lost him to the Yankees, with insight on the ensuing awkwardness it caused with Nomar Garciaparra. But it’s hard to overstate how awkward it was in New York, with Rodriguez and Derek Jeter, onetime friends who had turned frosty. A-Rod, so desperate to be liked, lost the trust of Jeter when he suggested in a magazine story that Jeter didn’t bear the burden of carrying the Yankees and never really had to lead. For them to end up teammates, and for Rodriguez, the superior defensive shortstop, to be forced to play third while Jeter stayed at short, set up a tenuous peace at best. And when Rodriguez did his part to blow up the series with his silly slap of Bronson Arroyo in Game 6, his ALCS MVP-worthy stats were forgotten and a new narrative began, one that would see him struggle so much that in the 2006 playoffs, Torre dropped him to eighth in the batting order. As the Yankees enjoy being back in the World Series and facing the Dodgers this year, it’s hard not to wonder if manager Aaron Boone would have ever been in that seat if not for his connection to those thrilling Red Sox-Yankees series. In the 2003 ALCS, he hit the walkoff homer in Game 7. And in 2004, he blew out his knee in an offseason pickup basketball game, opening up third base for Rodriguez. From either side, an unforgettable series and an epic two years of rivalry. Tara Sullivan is a Globe columnist. She can be reached at tara.sullivan@globe.com. Follow her @Globe_Tara.