It's All Over - Even The Crying

Be happy I'm not a Red Sox fan and for this not being yet another testimony of the relief of the burden of my suffering.

I tried all week to figure out a sports equivilent to the Red Sox ending an 86 year long draught. There isn't one. In England, everyone dreams of 1966, the last time England won the World Cup. That's 38 years for a tournament that only happens once every 4 years. That's like 756 years in Red Sox suffering years.

The strangest thing I've read about it to date was a piece out of, (if I remember correctly) Bill Simmons who repeated the bit I imagine is well-known: St Louis and Boston history in sports and how if they could've broke the streak against anyone, St Louis was the city.

But kudos to Red Sox fans I know here. Dawson especially - his first hand pieces were a joy to read.

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I was never able to jump start any enthusiasm for the latter stages of the postseason. I was in Bratislava with a crunchy hangover one morning in a hostel and got on their lone internet access and saw that the Yankees had defeated the Red Sox by some absurd score (19-6 or something?) and went ahead three games to nil in the series and I thought to myself, like any rational being would think: well, that's the end of that series.

And then a few days later in Hungary, another shot at the internet showed that the Sox had won Game 4 in extra innings and but still, I was like, yeah nice moral victory, chachacha.

By the time I'd returned home, I was able to watch Game 7 at 2 in the morning. They had it on the English equivilent of network television, live, with the feed of the hyperbolic American network coverage. Even when they whooped the Yankees in Yankee Stadium, I still thought, well christ, this won't win them the World Series.

And in England, they broadcast the World Series every night it lasted. And for Game One and Two, the England-side commentators, the ones the network goes to when the American feed goes to commercial, wore tuxedos in celebration of the World Series.

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Of course, none of the pageantry excuses Bud Selig. As much as I hate him for his moments of stupidity, I have to respect the fact that under his reign we've seen a stablisation of the union and the introduction of wild cards in the post season. Without those post season wild cards, where would the last three World Champions be?

I don't like how he knee-capped the Washington Expos (or whatever they will be in the end). Nor how he knee-capped the Expos when they were in Montreal. Having them play games in Puerto Rico was either incredibly stupid or incredibly sadistic. Either way it doesn't point to brilliant leadership.

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So where are the Mets?

They still don't have a manager. They still have Mike Piazza. They still have Cliff Floyd and this doesn't sound like a very good beginning for the year's prospects. I was happy they made Omar Minaya the whatever he is as one of three unofficial GMs. But if no one in the franchise is going to have the bullocks to shed the franchise of it's excess and damaged weight, it really won't matter who manages them.

I was disappointed to find no more Bobby Valentine references since my three week sojourn. Before I'd left, there was mention of the possiblity of him coming back now that Phillips is gone. When I returned, nada. The new rage is Jim Leyland.

I really liked Bobby Valentine. He brought success and a World Series appearance to the Mets. He brought the fake nose and moustache to the dugout. He brought the "stoned batter facing a 98 mph fastball" stance and face to the late season press conferences. Plus, the thing I loved about Bobby Valentine was that when he was manager of the Mets and I'd go to a game at Shea, there was no doubt that I'd run out of space on the scorecard to keep track of all of his double switches and changes. He was an entertaining manager in all facets and I would have loved to have seen him return to the Mets.

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Good luck to you Americans with your election. I hope you're living in the right state for your vote to matter. Good luck Ohio, Florida, Pennsylvania, etc.

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Does the Red Sox World Championship really mean the demise of the Patriots?

0-1 so far. Perhaps the stashed decades of suffering can only be cashed in once.