There was no hope, and that was ok. We, the millions of people, so familiar with loss, anguish, and bitter disappointments, had resided to the fact that next year will be here soon, and that was ok. We know loss. It's a familiar feeling as the leaves turn and fall each autumn, that feeling that we will have extra time to be productive as our team packs up and heads home with frowns and little fanfare. That gives us time to rake leaves and put our shorts away, get out the beer nuts and score sheets, for the mighty millennium Patriots are here to put a smile on our faces and make us feel whole again. But it's just not the same.

In a world of Verizon arenas and Nestle Enormo domes, there is a certain magic to Fenway park. It's old, overcrowded, and sticky, but it's home to one of baseballs oldest and cursed franchises, the Boston Red Sox.

They entered this year like any other, full of hopes, but chillingly realistic. And they played that way too. They trotted through the season the way the Sox normally do, until a major games behind deficit wrote 'doom' on the wall in permanent ink. We as fans expected as much, until something happened. Something amazing. Something that only happens to the (gasp) New York Yankees. That something was victory. The wind at their back. The 'nothing will defeat us' mentality. And as a Sox fan, I admit, I was dumbfounded, for the sweet feeling of victory was completely alien to me.

These emotions manifested early on in game four of the World Series. The Sox, up 3-0 in the series, were shutting down the Cardinals with ease, and victory was imminent. I sat on the couch, confused. It looked like my team would actually win, but I couldn't forget the history of how the Sox are capable of turning from the best team in baseball into the worst team in a matter of a few pitches. But it felt different this time, and that was ok. Awkward? Yes. I watched my team completely dominate the other team. This must be how Yankee fans must feel. And I have to say-I'm not sure how I felt about that. There was no fun or no sport involved. It was total domination from the get go. We're so used to being the David to the other teams Goliath, this role reversal through me for a loop, and I didn't manage to skate between Bill Buckner's legs. It was real this time, and that was ok.

So, the curse has been lifted. We are now the World Series champions. And strangely enough, life went back to normal very quickly for so many. I would expect to have a catharsis of sorts occur-but it didn't. But anything is possible now. Anything. The Boston Red Sox are the World Series champs. Anything is likely. We can see gay guys in Budweiser commercials now. Or even Ozzy Osbourne on a box of Wheaties. Or even a naked pop stars breast on the super bowl. Wait, that already happened. And that's ok.