I half expected to find this morning's Boston Herald-- which has recently morphed into being a cross between the house organ for the Republican Party and a pale imitation of The Onion-- sporting the headline DO YOU BELIEVE THIS SHIT!?!
And so today, it's morning in Boston. Strangers greet each other with a big grin. Talk of the game is everywhere. Sure, we're tired; all these late nights in a row will do that to you. But it's that wired, bright kind of tired. It's the tired that accompanies a birth after a long labor through the night. For as of last night, the Red Sox Nation is born anew. The world is alive with possibility, a shroud is lifted, and the House that Ruth Built has fallen. Hell, even the New York Post-- is admitting that the "Curse of the Bambino" is broken. Done. Over. Finit.
Next stop, World Series.