The apocalypse has concluded. In my vision, I heard the sound of an immense number of Red Sox fans, gathered around the world, there were 10⁸ of them (well, maybe not that many) shouting "honor, glory, blessing, sweep." They shouted aloud, "Victory to our Red Sox, who have prevailed after eighty-six years of suffering. The tears have been wiped away from their eyes." An angel appeared with a golden trophy, shaped like a double row of banners, and this trophy was given unto the Red Sox, who had but glimpsed it in earlier years when it was whisked away by the dark forces. As the ninth inning of the fourth game started, I saw the lightning flash from east to west, over the city of the Saint (Louis). And behold, the moon was blotted out from the sky by a great shadow, and darkness was on the face of the heavens.

For when the Red Sox win the Series, it has been foretold that the world will end. The old world passeth away, and the new world is upon us. And thus when the ball was tossed to first, and the last out recorded (it was the first and the last), the Multiple World Series branched into another universe, a universe where the Red Sox have won through to the shining prize. I saw a new heaven and a new earth; the first heaven and the first earth have disappeared, and there was no sea, or Cardinal joy, in Saint Louis. The One standing on the great Pitcher's Mound, who looked like Bob Gibson, said: "Now I am making the whole of creation new." Come back, Bill Buckner! All is forgiven!

Happy are those who have washed their victory shirts clean! The curse has been lifted. And the Red Sox are now inscribed in the big baseball book of life!

What a relief! And now, on to calculus.

Posted at 2:20 am | link