Don McLean’s American Pie Reinterpreted To Describe A-Rod and the Red Sox

Don McLean’s “American Pie” is one of the truly great American songs, chronicling the decade in music following the death of Buddy Holly, Richie Valens and The Big Bopper in a plane crash near Clear Lake, Iowa. To this day, though, McLean refuses to discuss what the lyrics mean, saying, “You will find many interpretations of my lyrics but none of them by me… sorry to leave you all on your own like this but long ago I realized that songwriters should make their statements and move on, maintaining a dignified silence.” Therefore, we at The Great Baseball Blog are going to re-imagine them as lyrics about the end of the Yankees reign over baseball via their signing of Alex Rodgriguez. You will be surprised to learn at how prescient McLean was. True American songwriting genius.

We’ve attached the song below, which you ought to listen to while you read, given that it’s nine minutes long.

A long, long time ago…
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.

As we will learn, the narrator is a Red Sox fan with a sense of humor. When he talks about “that music that used to make me smile,” he’s referring to the annual humiliation of his team at the hands of the Yankees and seemingly God-like forces beyond their control. The word “smile” is used, in effect, with a “smile”—indicating that things were so bad that he had no choice but to smile

And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

This moves into common baseball superstition, along with the Puritan-inspired self-criticism common to Bostonians before 2004. That is, if you wore a certain shirt every day and the Sox kept winning, you kept wearing the shirt, etc. The converse was the problem: when the Sox lost, you examined what YOU might have done wrong to cause it, and lived every day aware of doing things that “could make those people dance,” lest you cost the team a win yourself. Scholars may laugh at this sort of self-centered God-fearing ethos now, but it certainly existed.

But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.

This refers to the horror-inducing news in February 2004 that, after a long flirtation with the Red Sox, A-Rod had been traded to the Yankees as a replacement for Aaron Boone. Coming so soon after Boone’s home run to end the 2003 ALCS, this was the worst possible news a Sox fan could have heard, and quite literally stopped me in my tracks: I remember exactly was where I heard it, and couldn’t really process how bad it seemed at the time.

I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,

This is a wry reference to A-Rod’s later divorce from his wife after he was caught going to strip clubs for the “she-male, muscular types” and dating Madonna. “Cried” could be read as “laughed my ass off.”

But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

The one thing about the A-Rod signing was that it was so egregious, and he was so easily heisted after the Sox had tried so hard to acquire him, that something was obviously happening. George Steinbrenner released an epic “F You” statement that seemed to bury the Red Sox owners for being cheap, but as we’d later learn, the Yankees and A-Rod were by no means a match made in heaven, and A-Rod immediately began stepping in it by playing up to Derek Jeter in amazingly cloying ways.
“The day the music died” can be read as the “Day Ruth’s curse” died or something along those lines; the “music” of Yankee cheers at the end of every season was destroyed.

So bye-bye, miss American Pie.

This refers, however obliquely, to whatever forces had been holding the Red Sox back and were released because of the A-Rod signing.

Drove my Chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.

This likely refers to driving by Yankee Stadium in October and seeing no trace of winners’ champagne.

And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, “This’ll be the day that I die.
“This’ll be the day that I die.”

The most plausible explanation is that these are the ghosts of Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig and “The Mick,” unbelieving that one player could do so much to upend Yankee greatness.

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?

This is a reference to Red Sox fans’ blind love of the team, and the spirituality with it as mentioned earlier.

Do you believe in rock ‘n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

More with the Puritan ethic, here. The “music” of Yankee victories might not have “saved” Sox fans’ soul, but it certainly kept them humble. Learning to “dance real slow” was learning to deal with the annual casualties in an acceptable manner.

Well, I know that you’re in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.

This is watching the Yankees court A-Rod, helplessly.

You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.

A mocking reference to how happy this made us.

I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.

The “pink carnation” was our own deal for Rodriguez, which never panned out; the rest is self-explanatory.

Chorus

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.

A simple understanding that the song takes place in the year 2010 means that the Yankees have not won a title in a full decade, and the “moss growing fat” on a rolling stone indicates moss growing over the Yankees’ 26 World Titles banner; alternatively, it could mean A-Rod atrophying 10 years in the future, where he’s collecting bloated, meaningless stats for a team that doesn’t want him anymore.

When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from James Dean

The “Jester” likely refers to David Cone, who was a Yankee legend before playing his last year with the Red Sox—hence, the (red) coat he borrowed from James Dean. The “Sang for the king and queen” refers to his current role as a broadcaster. The King and Queen could be, alternatively: Hal and Hank Steinbrenner, Michael Kay and John Sterling, or Sterling and Suzyn Waldman.

And a voice that came from you and me,
Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.

This likely refers to how bad the Yankees announcers are, and how Cone is at least a breath of fresh air. Whomever the “king” is above has had his crown stolen by fan-favorite Cone—he who finished his career with the Red Sox. This is a sly conspiracy theory reference, that letting a former Sox in the booth is undermining the Yankees’ current chances.

The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.

When Yankee stadium clears out, everyone is too bummed by the loss to point any fingers, and Cone is not singled out.

And while Lennon read a book of Marx,

If the Yankees are the prime example of American capitalism, and the Yankees consider themselves antithetical to all things Red Sox, then the Red Sox would be communists.

The quartet practiced in the park,

The “quartet” is understood to be the three ghosts of Yankees past — Ruth, DiMaggio, and the Mick — and A-Rod.

And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.

A “dirge” is a mournful song; this is, again, a reference to how angry the Sox were at the A-Rod signing, albeit one that is solidly tongue-in-cheek.

Chorus

Helter skelter in a summer swelter.

This refers to the Red Sox Yankes game on July 24, 2004, best known for the brawl in which Jason Varitek smashing his glove into A-Rod’s face, and Bill Mueller’s walk-off home run. In the lore of the team, this was the game and these were the moment that turned around the Red Sox season.

The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.

“Eight miles high and falling fast” is a direct reference to the Sox’ position in the standings at the time. They were 8 and a half games back of the Yankees.

It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.

The ball “landed foul” on the grass is a sly reference to where Bronson Arroyo’s pitch went after hitting A-Rod. The “forward pass” is a nice mixing of football and baseball metaphors to describe the Varitek/A-Rod confrontation, where Varitek extended his glove into A-Rod’s face a la Tom Brady. This “jester” isn’t Cone but Pedro Martinez, who was the previous instigator of almost all Yankees/Red Sox hostilities, famously throwing Don Zimmer to the ground in the previous year’s postseason and telling Jorge Posada that he would “hit him in the head.” Pedro was on the team, but was, surprisingly, not involved in the escalating madness.

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.

The “sweet perfume” can be seen alternatively as the stench of beer in the air, or the feeling of righteousness engendered by the brawl that had ensconced the stadium. The “marching tune” refers to Enter Sandman, the song typically associated with Mariano Rivera’s entrance into the game.

We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.

Sticking with the music/dance as sarcasm theme, the Sox fan is taunting Rivera for having blown the save. The players are the Yankees themselves, ready to shake hands after a normal victory; the “marching band” would be the Sox, finally making music of their own and shifting the rivalry in their direction.

Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

On July 24, 2004, the rivalry turned in favor of the Red Sox.

Chorus

Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.

This is the most pointed reference of the entire song. It’s October 17, 2004. The Red Sox are down three games to none to the Yankees. If they lose this one, God knows what will happen. Dave Roberts has just entered the game as a pinch runner. We all know what’s going to happen: he’s going to steal. Will he make it?

So come on: Jack be nimble, Jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.

This verse begins a long, tongue-in-cheek joke that the Sox made a deal with the devil to get Roberts to second.
Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
Refers to the white-knuckle moments right before the steal.
No angel born in hell
Could break that Satan’s spell.

Cleverly plays with the “Satan” analog. If the “angel born in hell” is Roberts, who would forever be an angel to Red Sox Nation despite the deal with the actual devil. But he’s still be “breaking Satan’s spell,” which implies that Ruth may have been the “Satan” all along.

And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,

We can understand the “flames climbing” high to be the roar of the crowd, and the “sacrificial rite” to be actual steal of second.

I saw Satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

Refers either to the devil laughing at what he has wrought, or Ruth laughing at the fall of the Yankees under A-Rod, happy that their legacies would never been intertwined.

Chorus

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
We’re transported to the future, where the Red Sox fan is play acting as a Yankees fan in a big ol’ bit of schadenfreude. He’s asking about the recent performance of the Yankees, and she has nothing to tell him.

I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.

Wandering along River Avenue in the Bronx, looking for World Champions T-Shirts, nothing…

And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.

A reference to the ballfields alongside the old Yankee Stadium, and how life goes on without championships, something a generation of Yankees fans never knew…

But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.

A direct reference to the razing of “The House That Ruth Built,” the final chapter in the destruction of the Yankee legacy.

And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.

The final verse can be read in two ways. One, it could be a reference to the same Ruth, DiMaggio and Mick trio, with the fall of the Yankee legacy and old stadium, and their disappearance under the A-Rod reign; two, it could switch abruptly and be a reference to Ted Williams (Father), Carl Yastrzemski (Son), and Johnny Pesky (Holy Ghost) as the three keepers of the Red Sox losing legacy, finally free to enjoy their lives and afterlives thanks to “The Day The Music Died.”

Chorus
For those interested, there are, surprisingly, other, more accepted interpretations of the lyrics.