Obligatory post...sorry. I love this piscture of Pap...

Overall, this year was probably the best years of baseball that I can remember, but the World Series was kind of bittersweet. Do I miss Shaugnessy's Curse of the Bambino? NO! But there is something missing in my soul...it's that potent longing that only a lifetime of being a lovable loser can bring. 86 years of disappointment no longer tug at my heart strings. Billy Buckner letting the ball through his legs in the '86 series doesn't make me quite as angry. Falling to the Tribe in '95 and '98 and losing to the Yanks in '99 are just distant memories from my adolescence. The heartbreak of the 2003 game 7, 11th inning ALCS loss that forged my love of the Sox no longer makes the bile rise in my throat. 2004 put all of those things to rest. The fatalist Sox fan is gone from my soul.

There was no elation this year for me, just satisfaction and a lot of hope for the next few years. With the young core of players that have come up through the farm system, a passionate owner that cares about his fans and team, competent management at the helm and another red banner hanging over Yawkee Way for me to look up at, I am satisfied.

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