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Man, this Red Sox stuff is screwing me up. Did you know there's, like, a big election coming up? Jeez, I used to be on top of this stuff. And while I'm not paying attention, I'm pleasantly suprised that Eminem is. Oh how I'd love to see lines of kids in black hoodies at the polls. I'd also be a little afraid, who knows who they'll turn on next.

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)

Our clownfish looks like David Ortiz.

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.

We did our part. We kept the faith. The Red Sox have already done what no other team has done in baseball history by coming back from a 0-3 hole to force game seven in the ALCS. And they didn't even have to cheat. (That's the first win where I didn't have an Ortiz walkoff pic!) Em's friend Adam says: Good fans see 3 straight losses and say "I believe!" Dirty rotten pieces of scum fans see 3 straight losses and throw baseballs at players and umpires. I am simply amazed at what Curt Schilling did tonight. With blood soaking through the sock on his injured foot, the man who the Sox went to as the last piece in an 86 year old jigsaw puzzle absolutely pitched one of the greatest, gutsiest games I've ever seen. I am just filled with joy and admiration. Wow. [UPDATE: the man had SURGERY yesterday?!] Mostly, I am just so grateful. Thank you Red Sox. I feel like we won this series, no matter what tomorrow's outcome. This game was a gift. One game left. I believe.

Since Jesus has left the building for these playoffs, I guess we're forced to reach back into the O.T. for some King David references. Or we could just rewrite the books, in particular the history books, because on the 471st pitch, Mr. Octizzle rose again. There's so much out there to read, so I won't rehash that stuff, but here's a couple things I didn't see elsewhere: No one seems to have noticed, but Terry Francona actually tried to Grady Little us in the 6th inning last night. I couldn't believe my eyes, after a month of saying "no way does Francona not learn from last year, from this September. He'll pull Pedro when he's done." Boy was I wrong. Amazingly, though, it didn't work. With Pedro, after relinquishing the lead for what would most likely be the last time ever in a Red Sox uniform, pitching to Hideki "Sox Slayer" Matsui, the 2004 season was absolutely, 100%, no doubt about it over. O-V-A. But all of a sudden, it wasn't. Pedro jogging off the mound, score still 4-2. It was at that point I knew the game was in the bag, and game seven didn't seem so far away. How about the Fox announcers inexplicably ignoring all the Big Papí signs? Did they really have no idea what that was about? Were they perhaps afraid to attempt to pronounce "papí" without Jon Miller around to help? After game two, where nary a half inning went by without mentioning the who's your daddy thing, Fox Sports just upped their hacktackularity to levels almost approaching their cable news department. I heard on the postgame interview with Pedro on the radio a reporter ask what papí meant, to which Pedro, of all people, chuckled and said "it means daddy." One hundred pages of praise for the Sox bullpen still wouldn't be enough. Em says "If there were one guy on this team I would marry it would be Trot Nixon. But if I were Mormon and I could marry two guys the other would be Tim Wakefield." Exactly. And here's your Bill Simmons for today. I tape all these games, starting with the 20 minute Fox pregame. Video tapes, on their longest setting, are six hours long. Last night, while I was out at Em's house watching the game, my tape reached the end of its run on the third pitch to Ortiz in the 14th. I'm pissed about that. And speaking of that at bat, apparently I blacked out during it because I had no idea that Papí saw 10 pitches, fouling most of them off. I don't remember a thing except Johnny throwing his helmet after scoring the winning run. Maybe I was just exhausted, since 10pm felt like 2am. I don't know how these guys are playing, I can't barely watch! Barring a rainout, see you tonight. Start spreading the news. And BELIEVE.

Due to, I assume, an overwhelming concern that Hideki Matsui will experience some sort of wardrobe malfunction, the Fox broadcast of the Red Sox games are about 5-7 seconds behind the radio feed. This means, unfortunately, that you can't mute the drivel coming out of Tim McCarvers Yankee-fellating mouth and listen to Joe and Jerry on WEEI. Here's what you missed in the bottom of the twelfth early this morning: The text of course doesn't do it justice, but you may be able to hear Jerry's "WAY BACK! WAAAAY BACK!" in your head (I hear it in my sleep!). And not to get ahead of ourselves here, but a win today sends the series back to New York with the same series record as last year, when, if you haven't heard, we went to extra innings in the seventh game. We have three great pitchers lined up. Believe.

Do you believe? Keep the Faith. Pedro at 5:19.

Oh baby. Since local AM radio host John "the journalist" DePetro (the Independent Man) is moving on up to Boston, WHJJ has been looking for programming to fill the void. After an exhaustive search, they've decided to syndicate part of Air America Radio's lineup. That means Al Franken will be on opposite Rush Limbaugh in the Providence area. Sweet. There's always been debate over why liberal radio never took hold, whether it was demographic (left-leaners aren't radio listeners) or just a lack of options. Should be interesting to see if our blue state voting patterns transfer to AM radio consumption. I'll be listening (once the Sox season ends on Halloween. In the meantime, WEEI FM is where my dial is pinned). ALSO - I saw Al Franken hammering Wolf Blitzer today for not doing his job because CNN (and everybody else) refuses to call a lie a lie when it comes to politics. More later, but Jon Stewart was masterful on this same point on Crossfire yesterday.