Oh, thank God. It's finally over. Finally.
On Thursday night, I was set to start buying drinks because somebody had finally taken down the Red Sox. It was 7-0 in the 7th inning and I had a big smile on my face, and my friend Evan started sending me text messages.
"It's 7-4. Papi just hit one out."
"7-6 we're gonna win this!"
And finally, around midnight, the one I was expecting. The one I was dreading.
I have waited four years to celebrate the Red Sox getting heartbroken again. It felt so right, back in the good old days, to see them suffer. To see the pain on their faces when the Yankees wiped them out. It was the Yankees, in those days, who used to do the honors. And yeah, that made it much more satisfying than tonight was. But watching David Price blow away J.D. Drew with the bases loaded, and then making Jason Varitek look old and tired even more than usual... something about it was beautiful. It brought me back to the old days.
I love to hate the Red Sox. It's part of life in the Evil Empire. And looking at Evan's face tonight when the game ended made me optimistic for next year, somehow. Boston's not winning the championship. Just that makes the world a little bit more right for me.