David Kane, the Czar of Ephblog and the guy who invited me to share my diary on the site, has asked to see my entry for the epic Sox-Yankees game from last thursday. I am here to oblige. However, it should be noted that while several folks have called the 13 inning classic the greatest regular season game of all time, and A-Rod said it was the greatest game he has ever played in, diehard Sox fans might have a slightly different take. that game was painful. Punch in the gut, kick in the privates painful. That was the day I made the very, very long drive from Memphis to my new home in Odessa, Texas, and the game was not on when I got in, so I had to follow it via webcast and ESPN News. The Sox were in the midst of a wretched spell, and this game culminated a three game sweep against the only entity on earth I can honestly say that I hate, our archrivals the New York Yankees. So this entry, like Hobbes’ conception of life, is nasty, brutish, and short. In time, I may be able to deal with the loss and its painful nature, but not yet. In any case, I’m sorry if this disappoints, David and others, but this was all I could muster that egregiously difficult night:

Thursday, July 1, 2004: I know I am supposed to be sticking it out during a rough spot. I know I am supposed to write every day that I can. But I just moved to Texas after three long days of driving, after finishing the NEH Institute, and more important, I am just plain sick about the Red Sox. We just got swept by the Yankees, and each loss was more painful than the one before. So maybe I am a giant pussy, but I just cannot face it. The book will probably suffer. Then again, no Sox fan will want to read about this past three nights. Pedro showed his ornery side by drilling Sheffield, the game went into extra innings. It was epic. But it ended in catastrophe. If you want more than that, go look it up. I cannot go any deeper than this without serious trauma.

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