I had just taken a big-ass toke when Edgar Renteria grounded out to Keith Foulke to end the game. I lept from my chair and shouted, letting the fragrant smoke out of my lungs in a huge blast. Even though my feet were on the ground, it felt like I'd just jumped into the air and kept ... on ... going ....!
I ran outside, where my neighbors were gathering to shout and cheer. The cool night air made my skin tingle, and it gave me the sensation of Ben & Jerry's Vanilla going down my throat as I inhaled.
WE FINALLY WON IT! WE FINALLY WON IT!
I looked up and saw the moon, hanging red in the sky, in full eclipse. And I think I saw Babe Ruth's ghost, released from purgatory and rising up to heaven.
He tipped his cap to Boston as he rose. Now he's happy. And so are we! :D
