And great shall be the fall thereof...

What happened to my Red Sox? What on this earth?



I can't even watch. Bottom of the seventh and we're down 7-0. And who the h*ll are the Rays? I'm all for a Cinderella Story, but seriously? The Rays? From Tampa?

I feel I'm partially to blame. For one, I didn't commit to my perennial beard growth to show my support and I've only worn the hats for half of the game days. My prayers have been patchy as well, but I've never been sure that those were acceptable. And, to top it off, I never shelled-out for cable at the new place to be able to actually "see" any of the series.

But no, not even that tops it. And I'm going to be entirely honest, hoping that none of the Sox ever read this post (because some of them check here periodically): I think I wanted them to lose today. Here's why:

A week or so ago, a cousin of mine said he had two tickets to the ALCS at Fenway on the 16th of October and did I want to buy them. I said yes, and spat much of my spaghetti on the floor as I did. I don't even know if I actually got a "Yes" out. It was mostly chewed spaghetti.

Long story short, I couldn't go because a friend couldn't go, but I was ready to spend a handsome GRAND to get out to Fenway to see this game. I had looked at and almost booked the hotel in Boston just a few blocks from the fabled park. But then the world came crashing down around me, and I tried my best to be cheerful about letting the dream die. That was a little more than a week ago. Just as they were cinching up the division series against the Angels.

So somewhere, in the back of my mind, I've been harboring this awful hope that they would lose tonight so that I wouldn't consider it such a tragedy that I wasn't there. And when you consider what I was ready to spend to get there and then imagine me, in all my gear, watching my money and my dreams blow away like so many amber leaves on a chilly New England night, it somehow seems okay. Right?

Wrong. I let my team down. Yes, I dodged a sizable bullet by not dipping into the kids' college fund (again) and flying out to a blood bath-- the third in a row! Yes, It's better to be home watching Halloween cartoons on YouTube with my family than feeling my tears freeze to my face at Fenway, but my heart still aches for the boys in Bean Town.

So if you see me shuffling around town with my hands buried up to my elbows in my pockets, looking to all the world like the walking dead, just tell me all the things a thousand dollars can buy. That will make me feel a lot better. And I will be really, really, grateful.

but WAIT...

Bottom of the eight, and we've put in 6 runs. What is going on? This is not a joke: as I'm writing this post, the game cast is going in a separate window, updating in perfect silence. And yet it's laughing at me. Laughing loud and long and clear. Laughing at the possibility that this might be the don't miss game of the season. Could fate be more cruel?

Top of the ninth, tied at 7. I'm going to kill myself.



If this is because of the beard, I am never shaving again.