Tikkabik

I'm a fair-weather fan at best. Even when I was a kid and my grandpa (and later, after he died, my friend across the street's dad) took me to a game here and there, I was never that into baseball. In fact, it's only been in recent years that I've begun to take any notice to team sports at all, though I generally now reserve Sundays this time of year for football.

But when the Red Sox get to the point where they're a serious contender to win the pennant, I'm once again drawn to it. And so I've spent the last few days watching them fight an uphill battle against the hated Yankees. And it's certainly made for great theater.

The Red Sox/Yankees rivalry goes deep into the psyche of both Boston and New York, and it says a lot about people who are from each place. Yankees fans don't just think but know that their team is better, and that no matter how the Sox do, that's just the way it is. Boston fans have for generations thought of their team -- and their city -- as the underdog compared to our southwesterly neighbors, and that's just the way that is.

It's funny. To hear Sox fans talk, it's all about putting the Yankees and their constituents in their place. To give them a bit of comeuppance. To help them taste a little humility. And for Yankees fans, the Sox are that stuff on the sole of the shoe that doesn't come off and just stinks up the place.

So here we are in game seven of the American League Championship Series, and no one -- after last week's efforts -- would have thought we'd be here, including only the most self-deceiving (or faithful, depending on your perspective) Red Sox fans. As far as I'm concerned, who wins tonight isn't as important as the fact that the Sox didn't go out like punks, and helped tenderize the damn Yankees for whoever wins the NLCS.

Personally, though, a little piece of me is praying for a Red Sox/Houston showdown. It'd just be fitting given the Presidential race.