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By the time anyone reads this, today's game will probably be over, but I'm just bursting with excitement. I wondered if this year would be less invigorating, but I'm pretty giddy now as the defending World Champions take on Chicago. If anyone's looking for predictions, I'm guaranteeing the Sox win the series. You can bet on it.

In case you haven't heard, this is what makes baseball so great. Red Sox-Yankees, the bite in the air, the tightening of the chest, the exhilaration, the electricity. Fenway in October. A-Rod vs. Papi. And tonight... wow. Timlin, huge. Wells, awesome. Tek! Clutch game all around. I think I bruised my hand while pumping my fist in the ninth. It's a three game series now, gotta win two before we lose two. The fridge is stocked with Sam Adams and I'm not taking off my number 34 shirt til Sunday night. This is awesome.

To celebrate the return of my summer obsession, Em and I baked a cake. Add some hot dogs and a six pack of Sam Adams, and you got yourself a good night. Now let's smoke the Big Gangly Unit and start the season in first place.

Could this possibly be true?

Over the next few days, the Bravo show Queer Eye For the Straight Guy will be in town to tape an upcoming episode involving six Red Sox players: Kevin Millar, Jason Varitek, Bill Mueller, Johnny Damon, Tim Wakefield and Mirabelli

I've never seen the show, but you can bet I'll watch anything where gay guys get a whack at our caveman center fielder. And Kevin Millar is hilarious anytime you point a camera at him. Will Billy Mueller, who plays every game to glorify the lord and savior Jesus Christ, try to lead any of the fab five out of their lives of sin and debauchery? Should be good. Just have to remember to set the Tivo.

1918 There are tears in my eyes. I'll never forget this moment. THEY DID IT! THEY REALLY DID IT!

This past May, as the first stop on our Great Midwestern Baseball Trip™, Em and I were in St. Louis. Unfortunately we got rained out, and since we had tickets to a game in Cincinnati the next night we couldn't see any Cardinals games. Of course, as we walked around Busch Stadium we had no way of knowing that exactly five months later our Red Sox would be winning their third straight World Series game there. I'm even more disappointed that we missed seeing a game there knowing that I'll never get to see a game in the park that will likely host the most important Red Sox win in my lifetime. Next year is Busch's last season, so barring a weekend trip, we're going to miss it. Damn.

I woke up this morning and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. The paper told me that the Boston Red Sox were 27 outs away from snuffing out four generations of futility. Now, I watched last night's game. I saw Pedro dominate. I cheered Manny's bomb. I nearly blew beer out my nose watching Jeff Suppan implode on the base paths. So I knew what was up. Yet what I saw in the newspaper I still can't fathom. Among Red Sox diehards, I'd always considered myself among the most optimistic. Being young enough, I didn't have the hangups of most long-suffering Sox Rooters. I'm not immune to fears of collapse, of course, since I clearly remember every millisecond of last year's game seven walk-off. Still, not even through my rose-colored imagination did I foresee this day. Seven wins in a row, the first four of which were win-or-go-home games against the Yankees. Curt Schilling pitching his butt, and possibly his ankle, off. Pedro and D-Lowe, in perhaps their last days of wearing the Boston uniform, giving us everything we could possibly want. Keith Foulke... so clutch, so good, so selfless. And then there's Tim Wakefield. No fan needs to hear more. Someone asked me what I would do if the Sox actually won. Wouldn't it be a let-down? Wouldn't the magic be gone? Unequivocally, the answer is no. I told him it's not as if I'd been rooting for this team for 86 years. I love this team. I loved them last year, and the year before, and the year before, and so on back to my papa taking me to my first game at Fenway. I loved them after they lost in seven games to the Yanks last year. I loved them when they missed the playoffs the year before. Have they disappointed me? Sure. But the Boston Red Sox are family, and you don't give up on family. If the 2004 squad wins this thing I will be so proud of them. And then I'll be buying my tickets next February, just like I do every year. I'll watch every game, just like I do every year. What I won't do, though, is buy a new Sox cap. The one I have now will be worn til all the stitches pop out. Tomorrow morning, there's a decent possibility that the Boston Red Sox will be world champions. Could this really be?

For the first time since I was six years old, the Red Sox are in the world series. After a "gutsy" (at least that is what the people on TV keep saying) performance by somone who is going to have some sock laundry to do, it looks like they may finish it up in fewer than six games. Right now I'm on a plane to California where I will be until friday. Shit. What are the odds?

OK, you can exhale. Oh Mark Bellhorn, may you never be doubted again. Three HUGE homers in the last three games, two off the foul poles?! Can you say Todd Walker v.04? For the record, the Cardinals scare me. They are good. Our Idiots are no slouches, of course, but an 11-9 game might be the rule and not the exception in this series. I'm petrified about the games in St. Louis. Bottom line, though, the Boston Red Sox just won game one of the World Series. There was a time not too long ago (say, exactly a year) that I wondered if I'd ever get to say that. The Red Sox are up in the World Series. Read that again. As Tim McCarver would say, my goodness. (above link via Aces)

Thanks again to Adam for his always clever Red Sox away messages. EN commercials here.

When is game 8? This series couldn't be over, could it? Where was the collapse? Where were the ghosts? There is no superlative you'll hear today (and tomorrow, and the next day...) that is over-exaggerated. Last night's game seven was without a doubt the biggest win in the history of the Red Sox franchise. There's no real way to explain the impossibility of the meltdown suffered by the sport's most successful team. I can't even wrap my mind around the magnitude of this win. AHHHHHHH!!!!!!! I thought there might be something weird in the air when, in game 6, those calls that always screw us actually went our way. Then Johnny got gunned down at the plate and all that was out the window. But then, unbelievably, Señor Octobre David Ortiz opened that window back up, put the team on his back and used Aura and Mystique as a step ladder to take all the air out of Yankee Stadium. Seeing that Ortiz bomb, in true Red Sox fan fashion, I was almost positive that the one run we lost at the plate was going to be a huge factor in the game. Then Johnny took my doubts, bunched them up and on the first pitch he saw in the second inning put them into the right field bleachers at the Stadium. Em was jumping up and down, calling the biggest defeatist fan I know (her dad), making dinner plans to celebrate the win. I was dying! It was only the second inning?! But I forgot that 86 years of history all of a sudden means nothing. I waited until Mike Timlin got the 23rd out before I cracked the last beer in the fridge (this kind, if you're wondering). Why til then? You may remember being five outs away last year... In the car going to Em's, I turned the radio down and thought out loud what the call might sound like if the Sox won. Screaming with my best Castiglione impression, tears came to my eyes. "The Red Sox have just completed the most historic, improbable comeback in the history of sport" I yelled. That was all I would let myself imagine. I told Em that I'd be dying unless we went into the ninth inning with a nine run lead. Well, it was close. I didn't post this earlier, for fear of a stupid superstition, but when we were down 0-3 I was not upset. It was zen-like. I just didn't care. I don't think I was confident that they would win, but I was just at peace with my Sox. Even down 0-3. Maybe, as a caller to WEEI said, it was a case of numbness ("Thank you Grady Little. You screwed me up so bad I am just numb to this now.") I'll call it quiet confidence now. Ever time I wrote Keep the Faith, or Believe, I meant it. And there's more games yet? The World Series?! Just unbelievable.

After all the Believing, I can't believe it. Wow.