Ghosts were running amok in the Big Apple. It didn't look good for the men in gray, but they battled hard. Down, but not out, they needed to win one last fight. Given the choice of what could very well be their doom, they choose that which they think cannot possibly destroy them. But it came in the form of a giant beast, and they had no choice but to give their all, and take the beast down, for the good of all humanity. They had to put the memories of all the other ghosts aside, and win once and for all.

"Nice working with you, Dr. Venkman."

"See you on the other side, Ray."

That's right, I'm speaking of the 1984 film Ghostbusters. But with a keen eye you may have noticed some striking similarities between Venkman, Stantz, Zedemore, and Egon, and our own men in gray, Varitek, Schill, Ramirez, and Ortiz.

We chose the yanks, and they have appeared before us, bigger and badder than we'd known them to be. But we've started a comeback of biblical proportions, and we're just one battle away from making it complete.

I had the time of my life at the Riviera Cafe tonight in Manhattan. Hundreds of Sox fans, in what you'd have thought was the middle of Boston. This is the first step to ending our misery--taking New York. So many yankee fans have already decided that "this is the Sox' year," and that they "want to see the Sox win." Tonight as I walked away from the bar, I shouted, in Winston Zedemore style (after the Ghostbusters save the world, I know, but still...), "I love this town!" That's right, it sounds weird, but at that moment, that piece of New York, small as it may have been, was leasing land to Red Sox Nation, with an option to buy. Two blocks away, where I found a phone to call my parents, I could still hear the screams of joy coming from RSN-NY, and was greeted by fellow nationals with high fives as they passed me on their way out of the Riviera.

A I drove home, I listened to the two sports radio stations. I had strongly hoped that the media would do it's job: Tell the yankee fans that all the right calls were made (ultimately) by the umps, and that they have no right to complain. And they came through. Steve Somers, Joe Beningo, Brandon Tierney, all said the right things. Despite that yankee fans were calling and saying, "What's the difference between what A-Rod did and someone bowling over the catcher at home plate?" Morons. Give it up. He knocked the ball out of Arroyo's glove with a freakin' karate chop. Il-freakin'-legal. I imagined A-Rod telling Torre, "Jeter taught me that move...I guess I just assumed it was allowed." And Bellhorn's home run was a home run. Over the fence. Great job by the umps. I never thought I'd say that.

Beningo also was saying how if the yankees lose game seven, it would be their worst loss in franchise history. He also spoke of how great this would be for us Sox fans. And Mad Dog called up his show on his way home from the Stadium, saying how much we deserve this, and how great it would be. It was a very good night.

On my way home I saw a coyote, or something. I thought it was a fox at first, but the tail was all wrong. I stopped the car in the middle of the road (it was very late) and just stared at this creature as it stood there, twenty feet away, in a big open grassy field. I watched it for a good five minutes, before it finally ran away. But it's 3:30 AM, and I have to work at 8:30, so you'll have to find your own symbolism in that.

See you on the other side, everybody.