Sex & Sox

My passions: Sex and the Boston Red Sox!


Thursday, October 21, 2004

ALCS, 4-3, RED SOX, FUCKIN' RIGHT!!

Between innings, I was pacing. Desperately. Wearing a track from my living room to the dining room, through the kitchen and back again. The first few times, Mannybear followed me, thinking he'd get a treat out of it; he stopped.

My heart was residing somewhere near my tonsils, fluttering wildly. Everything the Red Sox did was both beautiful and terrifying; I gasped "Thank God" at every catch they made, every throw they finished up, every Yankee that they got out, every bloody positive thing that happened, no matter how routine.

Because nothing tonight was routine. The magnitude of every action in that park (where I saw my first Red Sox game, an 11-2 drubbing on July 5th 2003, with the man I plan to spend my life with) is amplified a thousandfold.

Our season is one inning long. This resonated within me still. Hell, I feel like our season is one breath long; every moment is to be cherished. I watch Derek Lowe with a deep-rooted goodwill: it was not 'his' year, but his 14 wins were eclipsed by Schilling arriving and Pedro "maturing". He won't be back with us next year, but I hope he finds a place to enjoy. I do. I hope his performances in this ALCS warrant him a big, fat, contract.

MVPapi!

See you Saturday!

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