I'm writing "JD Drew hit a key grand slam and Eric Gagne finished the game with a 1-2-3 ninth," but I can't believe it.

Sunday night, I'll be at Fenway Park. While Bob Ryan (I originally said Gordon Edes by mistake--I totally meant Ryan, and I apologize to Edes) was writing about how it was okay to have lost to the Indians because they're a formidable foe whose fans we should have sympathy for, I was busy calling the ticket office to get a face value seat for game seven.

Game Seven!

Again, Fox ignores the Indians' past miseries and 59-year drought, refusing to tell us that ghosts and goblins are clearly seeping in to their souls. What are they thinking??

Instead, Buck and McCarver are too busy panicking on behalf of the Red Sox, talking about how Schilling may have to come out, despite having a three-run lead at the time, and having not even really gotten into too much trouble. Shortly after that, the three-run lead became a nine-run lead. I knew I was going to be able to use my game seven ticket, and all the poor, dead Cleveland players of the past who hung curses on their former team cried because Fox inexplicably refused to acknowledge their deeds.

On towels: I was honestly more offended by the unoriginality of it than I was about the concept itself.

Schilling said "schit" at his press conference tonight. Beckett retains a slim fuck-to-shit lead.

You know what's extra awesome about having two good showings against Carmona (who I have a lot of respect for)? Not only the fact that he beat the Yanks in the previous round, but that he was the guy who pitched through the bug swarm, while the Yankees acted like they were being attacked by flying pit bulls with bees in their mouths.

As you know, I like being able to rub stuff in to Yankee fans, such as the thing I described above: "we beat the guy that beat you." That kind of thing. But don't think that means I need that to feel good about the Red Sox. You know why? Because we could win the next 50 World Series in a row, and Yankee fans would find something to brag about, even if it's something that exists entirely in their minds. And it's weird, because, as I wrote shortly after the 2004 World Series, the "B" on my hat was like Kryptonite to them. But it's almost like over that next year, they thought, "hey, why should we be sad when we can just pretend we've won, no matter what the truth is? Remember how we used to make fun of Red Sox fans? Let's just keep doing it, even when there's nothing there to make fun of. We're just arrogant enough to pull it off!"

So, knowing that, I could care less whether our victories are "justified" or "meet their standards," because nothing would ever be "good enough" for them. It would almost be more fun nowadays to win in the cheapest possible way--sneak into the playoffs while they storm through the regular season and then beat them on a bad call in our favor, or something like that. Then when they try to make fun of us, we, knowing that they would have no matter what the case had been, laugh in their faces: "Yup, you're right. YOU deserved it. But WE got it. Oh well."

But that won't come into play anyway, as we're a division champion going into game seven of the ALCS, while they're a wild card team sitting at home.

"Yeah, well you're the one still talking about the Yankees when you should be worrying about bla bla bla bla wah wah wah wah wahhhhhhh." No, Yankee fans are bragging to us when they have no right to, and I'm responding to it logically, and then moving on.

Great job by the pitching tonight. Great job by the hitting, too. Game seven, Sunday night. I am psyched! I will cheer the Sox on loudly from row 3 (!) of the bleachers--and take pics, of course. Let's proverbially do this!!!!!!!!!