Interlude: The Sweetest Joy

When I was in Istanbul, I realized that not only was it the second year in a row that I was in a Muslim country during Ramadan, it was the second year in a row I was out of the country while the Boston Red Sox were in the World Series. Last year, being in Kuala Lumpur was a mixed blessing. It was frustrating to not be able to root for my team as they battled for a chance at baseball's greatest honor. On the other hand, when Bucky Dent hit that home run, I was glad to be 10,000 miles away from the collective heartbreak of the entire city of Boston.

With the pain of that series still an open wound, I followed along this year with a little more caution. One win, two wins, three wins and suddenly the Red Sox were facing their archrivals, the New York Yankees. I never had a chance to actually watch any of the games, as most of them started around 2am in Europe and the networks here give American baseball about as much coverage as we give to soccer. Instead, I found myself waking up in the mornings after games and furiously logging onto my Yahoo WAP page on my phone - baseball satisfaction coming 128 by 160 pixels at a time.

I firmly believe that the Boston Red Sox have not won the World Series since 1918 because they have never had a chance to win it in so dramatic a fashion. Instead, the Red Sox Nation waited patiently. Waited until their hated rivals had them in a 3-0 hole in the League Championships. Waited until those Bronx Bombers had completely embarrassed them in one of the worst routs in postseason history. Waited until those pinstripe wearing dandies had giant smug smiles from ear to ear. And then proceeded to wipe those damn smiles off their faces. And then sweep the World Series.

No team has ever done it like that, and no team ever will again. I can't even begin to describe the feeling. Even the Patriots' first Superbowl win couldn't compare. In that moment when I learned of the win, I wanted to give back my entire vacation so that I could be in Boston for 10 minutes. I can only imagine what it must sound like to hear an entire city scream at the top of their lungs. I am the least superstitious person you will ever meet, but I know now that there is a magic in Boston. It started with the Patriots and it continued with the Red Sox. Mark my words, it will spread to the Celtics and the Bruins. But for now, it's our day. Boston's day. And oh, how sweet it is.