I have held this World Series up to the light, turned it upside down and shook it...heck, I've even given it a good, squinty, Larry David-style hairy eyeball. All in the desperate hope of finding an angle from which the freaking Red Sox do not end up as world champions.
It just doesn't compute. Dammit, they're going to win. Look at this...Look what happens when I try to type 2700 Wrldo Cmhpnoia Corodalo Skieroc. My fingers won't even let me conceive of it. Maybe if they steal one of these first two at Fenway. Let's say the Rocks lose to Beckett tonight. In game two, they get to Schilling. Pull one off in dramatic fashion. They come back to Coors with some momentum. Maybe then they've got a shot. I swear I don't see it, though.
This Sox team is just flat-out loaded for bear. Manny and Papi. Solid citizen Mike Lowell (Lowell's kind of like Mike Piazza on those 90's Dodgers teams...the one guy I really liked on the team I couldn't stand). Papelbon is a drooling simpleton and John Rocker minus the white sheet...but, damn, that boy is the dictionary definition of "lights-out." You know Schilling is ready to run through a brick wall to visit the White House one more time while Dubya is still there. AND home field advantage? Forget it.
I know crazy shit that don't make no sense happens in the World Series. It sure did last year. I just don't see it happening two years in a row. I love the Rockies. I'd especially love to see Todd Helton get a ring. I think they'll win game three at home on pure Coors-fueled mojo...and maybe they'll steal another one along the way. But no more.
Sox in five...Maybe six, tops.