A good friend of mine wrote this today via email:

"Boston is still the best place to be when the Red Sox are winning."

Although I would love nothing more than to chew down on some New England Clam Chowdah at The Union Oyster House while watching my Boston Red Sox pummel the Yankees, I must respectfully disagree with my friend.

There is NO other place to be when the Red Sox are winning than in New York City.

I liken it to being in Saddam's palace as they were bringing the statue down in Baghdad. How many people would've liked to see the look on Saddam's face as his entire world falls apart around him?

Well, that's the unique perspective I get to see! As I walk down the streets of Manhattan proudly donning my myriad of Red Sox jerseys, I see the looks of absolute horror on people's faces as they see my jersey and utter a "Boston sucks" in my direction.

Slowly... surely... you can see the pendulum turning on this. This city, almost overnight (two nights to be exact), has gone from being extremely tolerant of my jersey and leaving me alone... to responding as if i was walking down the street naked.

I love EVERY second of it. The city of Boston always feigns false hope, so when you're there and they're winning, you inevitably don't see the faults in your own team. Everything is overstated. But just today, a Yankee fan, wearing all of his garb, passes by me in the streets shouting, "BOSTON SUCKS" to anyone who will listen. Then, as an afterthought, he mutters under his breath:

"...but they're better than us."

The baseball arrogance in this city is falling apart.