The Red Sox winning the World Series hasn't upset me as much as you'd think. I've always hated the Red Sox because I was a Yankee fan, but that's not why I enjoyed watching them lose. While I'm not a believer of voodoo or hexes, there's something about baseball curses that makes me wanna believe. For over 80 years Boston was haunted by the Curse of the Bambino. And it wasn't just the Red Sox losing, it was how they lost (a little leaguer could have caught that ball that went through Buckner's legs). Every time Boston got close, they found a way to choke--there was just something funny about it.

I'm a big fan of baseball tradition--I love the history of the game and things staying the same. That may sound like an obstinate attitude, but it's one of the things I've always enjoyed about baseball. The way Cubs fans always "wait 'til next year" (Curse of the Billy Goat). The way Boston could never catch a break (Curse of the Bambino). The way the White Sox couldn't even win a playoff series (Curse of the Black Sox). Call it loveable losers if you like, but I just enjoyed the tradition and humor of teams that couldn't win--credited to the "curses" placed on those individual teams.

But with the Red Sox winning the World Series in '04 and the White Sox in '05, a lot of those long droughts came to an end (thank goodness for the Cubs and Indians). I suppose a championship is a good thing for their long-suffering fans, but to me it just takes some of the lure off baseball tradition.

The Red Sox winning this year didn't bother me because their hex was broken three years ago. Rooting against Boston wasn't as much fun as it had been in the past because there was no guarantee the Red Sox would lose. And while that might be good for the city of Boston, it doesn't make for an interesting story--at least not as interesting as Bucky Dent, Aaron Boone, and 86 years of futility.

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What made this year's World Series even more disheartening is The Girlfriend is a very enthusiastic Red Sox fan (it's like something out of a bad dream--a Red Sox fan and a Yankee fan dating). With every basehit, she let out a happy "Yay!" Every time a Rockie struck out, she cheered. And every time the Red Sox scored a run, she laughed. It felt like salt in the wounds.

The scary part is she was more enthusiastic for her team than I've ever been for mine. I've never been that happy over any single sporting event in my life. A couple of times I felt like reminding that it was just a baseball game. But I think a guy telling his girl to be less enthusiastic about sports violates some sorta Man Law.

The evening of Game 2 was my low point of the entire Series. I watched the game with a buddy at a pizzeria; she was forced to miss it because she had to spend quality time with her mother. Later that night, The Girlfriend and I started to get intimate. Clothes were shed and kisses took place. All of the sudden--mid-smooch--she pushed me off her and screamed: "Who won the game tonight?!?!?"

I told her Boston and that night, the loving was just a little bit better...for her. I'd like to think I had something to do with it, but Curt Schilling probably deserves more credit than me.

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