Baseball Musings muses on whether Boston fans hate Terry Francona. I don't, and no one I know does. Frankly, he's not Grady Little which makes him OK in my book.

Bruce Schneier is rolling in his 32 bit encryption. "Byrd added that he had no superstitions about the number 36, just that he liked it and had worn it for a long time. 'It's involved in some of my passwords on the computer so if I switched numbers I'd have to change all that up -- no good.'"

During the game tonight, a friend and I were discussing who would win if the New England Patriots played the Boston Red Sox? Hard to say.

I just saw Theo getting interviewed on the field. The interviewer said, and I'm paraphrasing, "Theo, you just watched the team win the 2nd world series on your watch. I know you don't want to stroke yourself here, but how does it feel." Theo said, "Haha. That comes later, huh?"
Channel 7, 1 AM. Wow.

And with the 55th pick in the 2007 Amateur Draft, the Boston Red Sox select University of Washington LHP Nicholas Hagadone.

"After spending last year starting behind Tim Lincecum, Hagadone became Washington's Friday night starter to begin the year. he was moved to the bullpen after two starts because of team need and has been outstanding for the Huskies, showing the ability to save games and pitch multiple innings. With a chance to have a good three-pitch mix, some teams may want to move him back into a rotation once drafted, but worst-case, they'd have a pretty good lefty setup man on their hands."

What do you guys think about the pick? Crickets...


Here's an article, talking about one of the main reasons some teams may not always pick the player with the most potential.

In other news, I may be responsible for breaking up Curt Schilling's no hitter with two outs in the ninth. I wondered over to a co-worker's cube who was watching on MLBTV and as soon as I got there, the no hitter was toast. Sorry about that, Curt.

Well, they did it. The Boston Red Sox won the World Series.

Even after the ALCS, I wasn’t sure this was the year. Well, a Red Sox fan is never confident, but I didn’t think our pitching could hold down the Cardinals offense. Boy, was I glad to be wrong. Looks like more evidence for the adage that the postseason is all about premier pitching. If you’d told me in advance, I never would have believed that Pujols, Rolen, and Edmonds would have one hit between them.

The World Series was a little anti-climactic after the rush of The Greatest Comeback In Baseball History. Games 1 and 2 were exciting because we seemed to be trying to lose (8 errors?!), but couldn’t. Games 3 and 4 were simply the confident administration of a methodical drubbing. A good move was watching Game 4 down at the local tavern, where we got to drink, shout, and high-five total strangers. Watching a high-stakes sporting event at home on the couch doesn’t have the same impact. (“We won!’ “Huh. Good show.” “Bed, then?”)

There has been a lot of hand-wringing in the sports press (and sour grape-ing in the New York Times) about what the “end of the Curse” means for Red Sox nation. The implication is that now that we’ve won, we won’t know what to do with ourselves. Even Rachel admitted that she was a little conflicted about winning the World Series. Once we’re not Red Sox Nation, bound together by our shared heartbreak, what are we? Just a bunch of people who all happen to root for the same consistently successful team. Like Yankees fans.

(Because let’s face it, for all of our scrappy underdog persona, we have the second-largest payroll in the Major Leagues, and we use it. Exhibit A: Curt “Bloody Sock” Schilling.)

The other day I had the chance to talk to a very nice guy, who happened to be a Yankees fan. I told him my theory that rooting for the Yankees (or any perennially successful team) must be rather unsatisfying. If they win, you’re happy, but not overwhelmed: winning is your due, it is expected. If they lose, you’re stunned and humiliated (see 2001, 2002, 2003, and 2004). What was it really like, I asked, to root for a team like the Yankees?

"It's really, really great," he replied.

So I’m not worried about rooting for a successful Boston team. I rooted for a (mostly) successful Cardinals team in the 1980’s, and those were good times. No, what I’m worried about what our lost humility will do to us as fans. How are we going to be identified? We’re not the eternally hopeful, eternally heartbroken group we were until this October. I just hope we don’t end up being the most obnoxious fans in the game.

Don't get me wrong! I am completely thrilled that we not only beat the Yankees after last year's cataclysm, but that we beat them in historical fashion. My bigoted uncle (see my "Intermarriage" essay) is a huge Yankees fan, and the thought of showing up at his son's wedding wearing a Red Sox yarmulke fills me with such joy that I've actually caught myself rubbing my hands together and cackling. Cackling!

I'm worried, though, because we've shown some bad manners even before we had a championship under our belt. When we're playing the Devil Rays at Tropicana Field, and the Sox fans outnumber the Rays fans, why do I hear the crowd chanting "Yankees Suck?" Even when we're playing the hated Boys from the Bronx at Fenway, is that really called for? Sure, the Yankees are overpaid and arrogant, and I'm all about rivalry (back in the StL we used to call the Mets "Pond Scum") but whatever else you want to say about New York, they don't suck. At least since the late 90's, they've played themselves some baseball.

And the booing. Look, we were all a little bitter about not getting A-Rod at the beginning of the year. (Although, now? Last laugh.) And yeah, he's a bit of a punk, and has oddly purple lips. But there's no call to boo him. In the first game of the World Series, did I really hear the Fenway crowd boo Albert Pujols? Who in their right mind would boo Albert Pujols?! (Heh. Heh. “Poo-holes.”) Our lowest moment, though, as a fan base, was during the introductions before Game 1 when the crowd booed third base coach Dale Sveum. People, I know he's made some bone-headed decisions directing traffic over there, but to boo a coach? In his home park? On national television? At the World Series? After the ovation everyone else got? Shameful.

So we need to cut that out.

Apart from that, though, I’m not worried about life as a fan of the un-cursed Red Sox. Everyone loves a loveable loser, but everyone also loves a winner, and this bunch is so personable that they’re easy to root for. The best sign, naturally, is that I ended this season with the same words that ended last season (although with a grin instead of a sigh):

“Four months ‘til pitchers and catchers!”