Ease His Pain

Its that time of year in New York where the weather is cool, the leaves begin to change and the Damn Yankees make my insides churn. I am just 90 minutes from the start of game seven ALCS. It is the night I have been anticipating since last year's game seven when I threw a chair across my house in front of my roommates guests. The Red Sox have made an unbelieveable recovery from a 3-0 deficit and will try tonight to be the first baseball team ever to come back from 3-0 and win a playoff series. The tension is strangling me.

This year has been very different from my previous playoff experiences. I am in the city of my much loathed rival and to top it off, my roommate is a die-hard Yanks fan. We've watched 3 of the past 6 games together and have swapped enough trash talk to fill the Newark landfill.

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Its now 35 minutes until game time. There is an eerie dark fog hanging over Manhattan. I've donned my lucky Red Sox shirt. I'm so nervous. I'm speechless. Go Sox!