Thursday, October 13, 2005

Well. That Happened.

No more Red Sox baseball 'till February. Except of the depressing "letting The Professional walk somewhere else" kind.

The sad funny thing? When it ended on Friday, I was pretty calm about it. I mean, when it really ended, with Edagr grounding out. When Johnny half-swung at that goddamn El Duque slider? Had to retreat to my grandparents' laundry room and curse out the furnace and several unsuspecting boxes.

But when the game actually ended, apart from some therapeautic laughing-so-I-wouldn't cry, I was uncannily calm. We went out, partook of Chinese food, and life went on.

It was only late at night, watching the player interviews on Sportsdesk, that I started sniffling a little bit. Watching Mike Timlin praise all his teammates, watching a scarily somber Buckethead. And especially watching a clearly sad Jonathan Papelbon be this team's own Brave Little Toaster, all stoic and strong, I realized something.

Yes, I'm disappointed it ended so soon. But more than that, I am so fucking proud of these guys for getting as far as they did.
Whereas last year was about the coming together of talent we all knew was there, this year was the year of the Overachievers. Not individually, but as a team, scratching and clawing our way into the playoffs.

Looking back over the entries for the past six months, that is the theme I keep coming back to:
I am proud of them. Every last one. And those who will move on, go their separate ways, I will miss, dearly.


Not only personally, however. I love Kevin Youkilis, but his possible ascension to third, and the changes sure to come at first base, means that two-thirds of this blog's name is fucked up.
I shall hold a contest to rename the blog. That would be pretty cool.

It would certainly help for blog material. Rest of the playoffs? Nice to watch, bad to write about.
Pats? That's at best 2-3 days a week. Hot Stove, hasn't really started yet.
Maybe I need to start watching hockey. But first I need to figure out how the hell hockey works. I mean, past "You hit the puck with the stick and it goes in the net."