I'm really in this for the Red Sox. I tried not to care - I even came up with an argument as to why it would be better of the Yankees beat them. But I can't do it. The mind may be willing, but the heart isn't. And here's why:
I was 12-, 13-, 14-, and 15-years old when the Buffalo Bills went to their four Super Bowls. For me, as with many boys, those are prime ages for the height of one's sports fanaticism. I was lucky enough to be there for the heyday of Buffalo Bills football.
Oh, the heartbreak. When Scott Norwood missed the field goal in Super Bowl XX, I went upstairs and took as shower. And I cried in the shower.
I saw my beloved Bills become a punchline to a joke, a joke I would assume originated somewhere between Dallas and Fort Worth. Now I'm older and wiser, and I can look back on those Bills teams and realize how incredible and great they were. The stars: Jim Kelly, Andre Reed, Thurman Thomas, James Lofton, Bruuuuuuuuuuuce Smith, Henry Jones, Cornelius Bennett (when he was Derrick Thomas good), Nate Odomes, Darryl Talley, and on and on and on. And the lunchpail, working class fan favorites: Phil Hansen, Don Beebee, Pete Metzelaars, Kenneth Davis, Kent Hull, and of course the master of the greatest comeback in the NFL: Frank Reich.
I was playing Super Tecmo Bowl recently, and I was of course the Buffalo Bills. Aside from remembering what a force Bruce Smith is in that game, I remembered what a great time the early 90's were to be a Bills fan.
Kind of like how good the early 21st century has been to the Red Sox.
What's more, I remember the heartache and heartbreak. And I don't wish that on anyone. The Red Sox deserve to feel the joy I never got to feel; the catharsis I never had.
Plus, I really fucking hate the Yankees.