That is why it breaks my heart, that game--not because in New York they could win because Boston lost; in that, there is a rough justice, and a reminder to the Yankees of how slight and fragile are the circumstances that exalt one group of human beings over another. It breaks my heart because it was meant to, because it was meant to foster in me again the illusion that there was something abiding, some pattern and some impulse that could come together to make a reality that would resist the corrosion; and because, after it had fostered again that most hungered-for illusion, the game was meant to stop, and betray precisely what it promised.

Baseball is easily my favorite sport, and this is one reason why. It marks the beginning of spring, and the end of summer, and takes a hold on me that no other sport does. Plus, can we just talk about how crazy this postseason has been!?

Meriadoc, flagamuffin, lil, think the three of you would like this read.