I was so happy to have real live Red Sox baseball back in my life yesterday. For the first 4 minutes of that game anyway. My dad was already in midseason form, hating Youkilis ("I hope he strikes out next time up so he doesn't run into another out...I have never liked Youk. Never"), being thankful that the Sox didn't resign Curt, pissed the Yankees won ("now we are already a game back in the East"), planning a hit on Julio Lugo ("I could strike him out today...Good work Theo") and all the other negativity that I have come to know and love. I got angry IM's and texts and panic filled phone calls. The Red Sox were back and even in a loss where we couldn't get a hit off of Gil Meche, ran ourselves into two outs, and just generally couldn't get anything started, it still felt good. The Red Sox are back. Anyways, all the refreshing and familiar pessimism yesterday reminded me of my favorite passage from Faithful , by Stewart O'Nan...