Misery Loves Company: Two Guys Watch Baseball

The Age of Unlightenment

I can't even get a rational thought out, I'm so overloaded with anticipation, but it's a different sort of anxiety than last year. I had myself utterly convinced last year that the Sox were a team of destiny, on a mission from God, that I was locked and loaded prior to Game 1. This year, with the phenomenal sprint to the finish balanced by the soul-sucking mediocrity of the season's first 100 games, I can't figure this team out - they still seem to be missing...something.

You can see it in my blogging over the last three weeks, after they all but clinched the playoff spot. It's a bunch of aimless words, no real flow - an author in search of a voice. Last October, I was on it, baby, if I do say so myself. This year...eh, not so much.

But here's the thing (you knew it was coming, and you know you wanted it), last year, for all my surety, all my Era of Positivity, all my inspired blogstylings, the Sox gacked Game 7 of the ALDS. This season, for all my misgivings, and all my whining, and all my "feh", the Sox finished with a better record than they did in 2003, and are better equipped to make a deep run.

Game 7 of the World Series is scheduled for October 31. The Presidential election is 2 days later. Be pretty cool if native son and new President-elect John Kerry shows up at Fanueil Hall for the parade on November 3, wouldn't it? Fuck it, if the Sox win the World Series, Bush and Cheney could push for legislation depositing my paycheck directly into Halliburton's account, instead of indirectly, and I wouldn't bat an eyelash.