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      The way it was supposed to happen.

    Recent history between the Champions and their bastard step-childs to the north has come full circle. It would have been a disappointment to everyone if this matchup hadn't occurred. West Coast fans can whine all they want about East Coast media bias, but is there a League Championship that people would have rather seen?

    Now I suppose a reader here might expect me to make some grand case as to why I believe the Red Sox will finally beat the Yankees and move on to the World Series. I won't do that, because I don't know.

    The failure of the Red Sox over the years has been blamed on a made up curse. The curse is mostly the product of nonsensical blubbering morons, but lets look at the rationale behind it. A curse is a nice easy way to describe something that can't be explained. I can't even begin to explain it, so I usually devolve into random snippets of sanity. I get irrational. That's all there is to it.

    At least I don't need a curse for comfort. I take comfort in the fact that I am not alone. There is just something different about Red Sox fans. I tried to make that case in my pre-season expectations. I'm not sure I did. It's something you can't put into words.

    I recognize that this is a great team, with the potential to win it all, but at the same time I remember the pain, and I temper the optimism.
    But as sure as the sun--like every Red Sox team before it--this team will do something, pull off some miracle comeback, or dominate so fully in the first round that all of my inherent cynicism will vanish.
    I wrote that when the Red Sox clinched a playoff berth. Consider the prophecy fulfilled. Consider the cynicism vanished. This Red Sox team is VERY, VERY good. Unfortunately the Yankees are also VERY, VERY good.

    I know this upcoming series might end in any of a million ways. I also KNOW the Red Sox are a better team, if only slightly. But it won't matter unless they are able to do something that nobody in Yankee Stadium on Tuesday was alive to see.

    There are no ghosts.

    I used an analogy to start the season, and it seems even more appropriate now. I feel like an inmate on the eve of my execution. Either that, or a virgin on prom night. Take your pick.