So last night I sat in a pub next to a table full of old ladies who were cussing like sailors. It was interesting to hear the grandma's dropping f-bombs like there is no tomorrow- and for the Red Sox, there wasn't one. I had a burger and a beer and watched Jon Lester aim the ball at the Orioles for six shaky innings. I sensed what was coming when the rain delay hit. I also knew that the damned Yankees would cough up their lead over the Rays- while I was coughing up the second hand smoke drifting in through the back door of the pub. (Smokers: 25 feet away from the building is further than you think!) All in all it was a night of frustration. It's probably a mistake to make emotional investments in a sports team- especially a team like the Sox who have it in their genes to lose in the most heartbreaking ways imaginable. Anyway, to all you Red Sox fans out there- you have my sympathy. The good new is that now we can concentrate on naked women until spring awakens our inner masochists once more. Maybe next year?
Hope...IT HAPPENS EVERY SPRING.
