The Sox won their second World Series in 4 years on Sunday in decisive fashion, pummeling an over-matched Colorado Rockies team that had the look of the proverbial Colorado deer in headlights in their first World Series. During the 8th inning of the end of the inevitable, Fox was already bored of the 4 game snooze-fest. (Really, was it EVER in doubt?) When foul line reporter broke the story that A-Rod was opting out of his Yankee uber-contract to test the limited free agency market to see how many more billions and billions of dollars he can squeeze from the average Joe baseball fan, the real story of this post-season unfolded. (My guess is that he's heading directly to the Royals to triple their payroll, but that might be the booze talkin.) You almost sensed that the Red Sox were ready to sign the guy up, right there on the spot to get a few more runs. Winning the series would not be enough. This type of enthusiasm is a mistake.
As everyone in Boston, New England, or any lame actor that rhymes with Ass-fleck could have told you, pre-2004, there was the Curse of the Bambino. Ever since that fateful trade in 1918 that sent the mighty Babe Ruth to New York for $18 worth of trinkets, the Bosox were cursed--doomed to never win the World Series for the rest of eternity. The Yankees went on to win 25 World Series over the next 80 years, while the BoSox lose in 7 at home to the Big Red Machine after one of the most dramatic home runs in World Series history and broke the dreams of an Angel Fan (me) in 1986, only to watch the championships roll through the hurt legs of Billy Bucks, who is really unfairly blamed for the 1986 loss. If there's any one person to blame in a team game played by TEAMS, blame John McNamara, the manager, who should have taken out Bucks for a defensive replacement or blame all of the Red Sox for not showing up in Game 7.
However, the Red Sox have turned it around. How can the stars be aligned with them instead of against them by an all-powerful womanizing, booze-hounding, glutenous dead dude who happened to hit the ball pretty dang far in a dead ball era? Easy. I'm going to call it the Curse of A-Rodrino. With the ability of the sports spinsters to weave one tale after another, this one was completely missed. Ever since A-Rod was signed, sealed and delivered to save the Red Sox franchise with a trade from the Rangers, only to be snapped up by the mighty and hated Yankees, the Curse of the Bambino was lifted, and so began the new curse: the Curse of the A-Rodrino. The Yankees tempted fate one too many times. The Red Sox have gone on to win 2 World Series while the Yanks have lost every year in the first round. Then, to really solidify the new Curse, the Boss (not Springsteen) has given up control of the team to his two sons (kind of like Charlemagne bequeathing the Frankish Empire to his 3 sons...no more Frankish empire), fired the most successful manager in team history since Casy Stengel, and quite possibly losing the best closer, the team captain, and most of the best arms of the pitching staff. To quote Mr. T, "Fonzie, your happy days are over!".