The Curse (1918 - 2004)

Okay, so I never believed in the curse much, but...at last, at long last, the Red Sox have won the World Series!

Congratulations to the St. Louis Cardinals for having a wonderful season.

But most of all, congratulations to the Boston Red Sox!

My father was raised in Boston, and he was a huge Celtics and Red Sox fan. As a child, in the summer, my loving brother and I would visit our grandparents on Blue Hill Avenue in Roxbury, Massachusetts. It was then that I became a Red Sox fan.

In 1987, when the Sox lost game 6 to the Mets (and I knew, somehow I knew they would lose game 7), I cried. I didn't let a tear or two fall, I actually cried.

And now, dear readers, forgive me a little emotion as I type this post and watch Damon and Ortiz and Ramirez and Lowe and Bellhorn and Arroyo and Timlin and Foulke and Martinez and Millar and Cabrero and Varitek and Mueller and Schilling and Wakefield (and Francona and Epstein) and all the boys host the trophy and drink a little champagne. Imagine 86 years of thirst. Imagine it.

Anyway, what else to say: I'm thrilled. I'm elated. I'm overjoyed. I'm also a little sleepy (it's been an emotional couple of weeks).

Good night. Sweet dreams, and when you dream tonight, dream of the Bambino letting go; dream of Bill Buckner finally set free; dream of a long suffering Red Sox Nation finally at rest!