The Yankees and Red Sox reignited their decades-old rivalry last night in explosive fashion. And now the long dormant blood feud between these teams has woken, and all of baseball has taken notice.
The New York Yankees lost in what some correctly labeled the beatdown in Beantown on Tuesday night. It was a hard loss. Any loss to the Red Sox hurts, but getting smacked pillar to post in a 14-1 drubbing feels a whole lot worse than most.
I stayed up for a while after that, deep into the night, telling myself it was just one game. In April. I reminded my doubting inner companion that this was just the first punch in a season-long fight to the finish.
A fight is in rounds; I reminded the darkest parts of my soul; this was just round one.
And so to bed. As a better man than I once described it, my heart ached, and a drowsy numbness pained my senses, until lethe-wards I had sunk.
First flitting before my eyes were the runs scored that night by the Red Sox, a drumbeat of punishment and pain. Tossing and turning were then the rule. My fitful sleep led me to see a season of domination by Boston, too many of our big bats coming up small.
I saw losses from here to September, and then no more Yankees games could I see. Sweat now formed on my face and rolled into my mouth: The bitter taste of anguish.