The Curse
...such a state of competition will evolve only when - or if - the Red Sox beat the Yankees in the playoffs. Is Iraq our country’s rival? Absolutely not. Much like its Superpower counterpart, the Yankees dominate with a greatness founded upon superior artillery and a confidence bordering on arrogance. Jealousy, blind hatred and a history of folly, on the other hand, infect the psyche of the defeated. Likewise, mutual contempt, not competition, characterizes the Boston/New York conflict that is much less a rivalry than an overblown tiff. Now that we’re clear that Red Sox/Yankees conflict isn't even a rivalry, let’s see if we can crack the foundation of this alleged Curse. Only then will we understand the true impetus behind baseball’s most storied discord. How can I believe in a curse without being superstitious? The answer is painfully obvious and contingent upon a state of mind that, in essence, has nothing to do with the Curse of the Bambino. Forget about Ruth. Forget about Bucky Dent. Forget about Aaron Boone. Forget about the distortion and contortion of numbers, dates and coincidences that supposedly support the existence of the Curse as we know it. The real curse of the Red Sox is the pessimism of the Red Sox fans. A function of neither mystery nor mystique, this curse is as alive and as tangible as ever, an ever widening wound that has grown saltier than the Boston Harbor itself. It's not of the past but of the present. It stirs violently in the tortured soul of the card-carrying members of Red Sox Nation. It preys upon Bostonians’ boundless negativity, an affliction deeply rooted in anger and envy, and its gluttony know...