perfidy

The Red Sox' postseason run is shaping up an awful lot like Greek tragedy, and not your usual one, either. The Greeks sort of went in for that tacit "he's f**ked" vibe in their morality plays without ever spelling it out. The Red Sox are more likely living out a fate similar to Ionesco's retelling of Oedipus Rex where you are told right at the beginning by narrators how Oedipus will spend the next three hours being f**ked, in precisely what ways, and how his anguish matches perfectly in method and measure with some capricious twist of fate he had an accidental hand in long ago.

I mention this because every Red Sox fan in the world knows that everying teeters on a knife's edge now. The Red Sox are one game away from winning the World Series, and indeed have gone 3-0 against their opponents to get to this point.

But wait. Just last week the Red Sox dispatched their oldest and most hated rivals by losing three and winning four. I am convinced that by this weekend, the hands of what cruel gods rule baseball will be visible in the heavens as the Red Sox slide inexorably to their horrible, crushing, and perfectly greek-tragic-symmetrical fate, losing the next four games to fall in seven to the same franchise that has beaten them twice before-- but this time losing the World Series in the exact same way they won to get there. Along the way, they will find that, having killed their enemy, they have become him.

It's only a short step from Calvinistic predestination to talk of modern-day Greek Gods. It doesn't help that Kevin Youkilis, the God of Walks, actually plays for the Sox. It's over folks. Remember, you read it here first.

[wik]...... OR NOT.

*WHEW.* Now maybe I can get some sleep.