I’m alive. Barely. Currently writing this blog from a bar outside of Fenway, drowning my sorrows with my people. I said the Red Sox were going to steamroll the Indians, they didn’t. I deserve all the chirps I’ve been getting. But I will say one thing — I went all in on my team. I saw a beat up Indians team, a Red Sox team with a juggernaut offense, and I pushed all my chips to the middle of the table. I said wake me up when the ALCS starts, and here we are less than a week later, headed home. But that’s not why I’m sad tonight. I’m sad, because I just watched my childhood hero tip his cap in front of a Fenway crowd for the final time. That’s (mostly) why I drink tonight. A lot.
Full reaction tomorrow morning. Hell of a series by the Cleveland Indians. Congrats to their fans. Fuck my life.