1917 is the new 1918?

After their loss on Friday to the Chicago White Sox, the baseball season is officially over for the Boston Red Sox. I should probably be more disappointed, but I can't get myself too worked up about it. It would have been nice to see a repeat trip to the World Series, but I'm still high off of the 2004 win. They turned the tide of history, ended the talk of that stupid, non-existent curse and gave me one world championship. That's enough for now. I'm not greedy. So long as they can remain consistent contenders, that'll keep me happy for a few more years yet. Besides, considering this season's intra-team snarkiness and the serious deficiencies they faced in the pitching department, they're lucky to get as far as they did. Terry Francona deserves a medal.

So congrats to the White Sox. They earned it. But now, in my eyes, they're committed. If they're going to oust my beloved Red Sox, they owe it to me to go on and win the whole damned thing. That's the only thing that'll make it worthwhile.* So good luck in breaking your own imaginary curse, Chicago!


*It's the only thing that'll get me to keep watching, too. Fox has the World Series again, which means more painful coverage by the worst announce team in baseball history, Tim McCarver and Joe Buck. If I don't care about any of the teams involved, I won't watch, and I'll be blissfully spared from their inane chatter. So maybe I should actually be hoping that Chicago loses...

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