Bob Ryan's Globe column today is titled "Where to start?" and I must say it is awfully hard to sit down and try to encapsulate what happened last night in a couple of paragraphs. People often make the semi-joking comment about how baseball is a religion for Red Sox fans, but I don't quite think that gets it right. There's faith and superstition of course, but it's a bit more concrete than that. As it was succinctly put last night, "We don't need lucky charms, we need the Red Sox to score two more goddamned runs!"
After actually going to the park for Saturday's pasting of the Red Sox, I was in a pretty low mood. I snoozed through the Patriots winning their record-extending 20th straight game while the announcers snickered about how many football teams that day had failed to score as many points as the Yankees had the previous night in the Fens. Somewhere before the 8PM starting time of Sunday's game I had at least reached the point where I wasn't fretting about the game. Things become simpler when your team is down 3-0 in a best of seven series. You just have to think about that day's game and forget everything else. No need to worry about tomorrow's pitching matchup when there's no tomorrow.
I'm exhausted today, along with just about every other resident of the Northeast. I can't really find the words to describe what the last two days have been like (thanks to Am for hosting two kickass parties) but let me just say that reading coverage of the game brought me to tears no fewer than three times.
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