Believe (Confront your happiness)

I'm starting to believe that it actually happened. I've read virtually every word there is to read on the Sox. I've seen all the highlights, tributes and commercials. I saw the damn game. Hell, I saw almost every single one of their games this year, thanks to the Comcast MLB package. I've been babbling like an idiot for close to a month on the topic (OK I’ve been babbling like an idiot for 38 years, but exceptionally so for the past month.) The only regrettable thing about this is that I don’t have a buddy who has lived and died through this with me. All my friends are Yankee fans, and they’re doing all they can to minimize it. (Except for Nance, who was with me as the final out was recorded and who urged me to confront my happiness.) They were the recipients of the most humiliating, ass-slapping comeback in the history of humanity. Who could blame them? Half of them are bandwagon fans, anyway—why else would they abandon a team so quickly? Q: What do you call 25 guys watching the World Series on TV? A: The Yankees. They hate it when I tell them that.  The Red Sox won. With grand, poetic, dominating fashion. Today they had the parade to prove it. Now what?