how sweet it is

The whole world is of course aware of the Red Sox winning the World Series last night in Denver, bringing home another trophy to the city that loves them so. 2004 was for all the heartbreak. 2007 is all about the future.

It was another late night, but it’s been worth it. How good it feels waking up this morning not with dread or hopelessness or anguish of the worst kind, but with pride and smiles and victory. Everyone has a bounce in their step, grins tugging the corners of their mouth. Even traffic coming into work was happy–we’re sitting on this fucking road today staring at brake lights and taking an hour to go 20 miles, together, as champions, world series champions!

There was a lot of expectation with the team this year, a lot of money was spent, and in the end, they came through and held up their end of the bargain. We’re sad that the win once again didn’t come at Fenway, surrounded by the fans and the Green Monster and the entire city, but not too sad. We did just win the world series, after all.

I say “we” like I was a part of it, and that’s because I was. Who had the lucky penny next to her since Game 5 of the ALCS? Me. I rubbed that penny in all the right places, at all the right times. Because really, it’s all about the rub…you have to know when is too much and when is not enough. I’ve got years of rubbing experience and I took that penny to the pinnacle. I’ve got the rubbing magic in these here fingertips.

Is Boston the next Evil Empire? Please. Second-highest payroll, yes, but not at the cost of our souls and integrity. Let’s just do a little comparison: the 2007 World Series MVP and the 3rd baseman of say, ummm, let’s see…the Yankees. While Lowell, the epitome of baseball goodness, was busy hitting home runs and winning a WS ring, what was Pocketbook Rodriguez, who’s just the pit of shit, busy doing? Announcing his decision to opt out of his contract. You know you’re capital-a asshole when even the assholiest team in baseball isn’t skeevy enough for you.

So hats off to the Sox and the fans; everyone else can, in the words of big papi, suck on it.

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