So, tonight, in front of a great bunch of fans (St. Louis fans are, on the whole, extremely classy), the Boston Red Sox have "86ed" the curse, so to speak. As I sit there and watch the final out with Keith Foulke flipping to Doug, I jump in the air and emotionally hug Katie, my first girlfriend and longtime friend who has been there with me throughout the most amazing moments in my life. Thank you, Katie.
A note to morons in Boston... guys... what the hell... you do the Red Sox a great disservice when you act like complete idiots. Go home and celebrate with your friends. Don't gather with 80,000 people and take down the Commons.
From 19-8, to 1986, to 1918, to 86 years of heartache, I sit proudly in front of everyone to say that I am proud of the team. I'm glad someone nudged Francona after Game 3 and informed him that they were losing. He's a really good manager, and showed it at the end. I didn't know how good he was until his back was against the wall. An AMAZING job of handling that bullpen.
Terry, great job.
