Ulcer-Inducing


Wherein Our Heroine is Made Ill by the Stress.
Oh, man. The Sox have pushed it to Game Seven.

I may have to go throw up now.

Everybody knows, right? Everybody knows that this up-from-behind, against-all-odds rally stuff is the kind of thing that, historically speaking, the Sox just choke on? Yes, I know, bad Sox fan, ye of little faith and all that. The streak has to end sometime, right? But being a Red Sox fan means you know, from bitter experience, that the "law of averages" is no law. It's not even a bill stuck in committee. It's not even an idea being mulled over by the junior Senator from Nebraska. It doesn't exist and never did. Failure is always possible. Just ask Pedro Martinez, or for that matter, Bill Buckner.

The Sox have shown that they are capable of the win - and I don't buy the argument that "they don't want it enough." Rubbish. However, the feeling I have as a fan - that this is the script and the Fates will insist that it be followed - has got to be felt a hundredfold by those guys in Boston. Superstition starts to set in to offset the action of those implacable Fates, and as I've mentioned before, superstition begets some strange behavior (memo to Johnny Damon - the hair hasn't worked yet. Stop). They've got The Stuff It Takes To Win. It's a matter of using it.

Will I be watching tonight's game? It's far more likely I'll be tucked up in bed, covers over my head, hoping for a better tomorrow.
Posted: Wednesday - October 20, 2004 at 08:08 AM         | |

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