This next post is entitled, "Wet Blanket":

Dear Red Sox fans,

Congratulations on the World Series win. Your team showed a lot of heart throughout the postseason, especially in the ALCS, in which it came back from a 3-0 deficit to defeat the Yankees in 7 games. You guys then proceeded to surprise the sports world again, sweeping a very strong St. Louis Cardinals team in the World Series to win your first title since 1918. A tremendous feat. Congratulations.

You guys did it.

YOU GUYS did it.

YOU GUYS.

Did it.

I didn't do it. My friend the Angel fan didn't do it. My co-worker the Yankee fan didn't do it. Jimmy the bartender in Midtown, a Twins fan, didn't do it. The construction worker in Seattle, a Mariners fan, didn't do it. A family in Kansas City, Royals fans, didn't do it. And in fact, no person in America who isn't a fan of the Boston Red Sox did it.

YOU GUYS did it.

Not us.

So, if you don't mind me cutting to the chase -- let's cut the crap, Sox fans. Quit acting like you've become America's team, as if baseball fans everywhere have suddenly embraced the Red Sox as their own, as if we're happy that you guys finally did it. We know what you're doing. We can see right through it. It's subtle, and you nearly had me there, sneezing out that subliminal message that the Sox were this year's sentimental favorite, or that The Nation deserved a victory, or that the Sox played the role of freedom fighter for all sports fans this year when they eliminated the New York Yankees from the playoffs.

Just stop it, OK?

Yeah, we all hate the Yankees. Everyone does. Always have. But we freakin hate you guys, too. No one was rooting for you to win. We wanted the Sox to lose just as much as we wanted the Yankees to lose.

Huh?

Yeah.

Really?

Yes!

When you beat the Yankees, it was just a case of asswipe beating buttwipe, and don't get it twisted -- that was only half good for the sports world. One evil beast died, but another simply gained strength.

Not a celebratory cause.

I'll be honest. Before the start of the ALCS, when I was asked who I was rooting for, Boston or New York, I replied, "Your face. I'm rooting for your face." Then, when I was asked if I had to choose at gunpoint between the Sox and Yankees, I thought. And I thought. And I thought. And after much deliberation, I concluded that if I did have to choose at gunpoint, I'd probably root for the Red Sox. Not because they're endearing in any way or anything, or because I wanted Boston's misery and futility to disappear, but simply because I decided Yankee arrogance is slightly more agitating than Red Sox bitchery.

Please remember that I had a gun to my head.

No, the decision didn't mean anything, and neither did the Red Sox victory. WE didn't beat the Yankees. YOU did. WE didn't win the World Series. YOU did.

Stop making this out to be a celebration for the masses. Stop asking us if we're happy that the Red Sox finally did it. Nobody outside of Boston cares that this curse -- that dubious curse -- is shot. We couldn't give two flips that a 95-year-old man from south Boston named Sully has finally seen his team win a world championship. Excuse me if that sounds selfish, but I was near death with food poisoning a few months ago, and I didn't see Sully at my side, feeding me chicken soup, reading me Stuart Little.

So whatever. Enjoy your championship, Sox fans. Drink the night way. Go celebrate somewhere with all the rest of your Boston buddies.

Just don't bother the rest of the world while you're doing it.

I, along with the rest of the sports world outside New England, will be at home ignoring your existence.

And waiting anxiously for the NBA season to start so you guys can go back to bitching about the Celtics.

Keep in touch,
Dan