Sweet Night & The Sweetest Day.

Let's face it. Was there really anything else to talk about today? I hope you stayed up late enough to experience it. We here in Red Sox Nation have been lucky enough to enjoy some pretty great sports moments in the decade, and I have to say this one ranks right up there with the best of them. No matter what happens on Saturday and/or Sunday, no one can take away Thursday night's amazing and nearly inconceivable come from way behind way late in the game 8-7 win by our beloved Sox.

I could go on and on about that one, but this isn't a sports blog (although somedays you might wonder). We'll leave that to my favorite Sox blog, Red Sox Monster to do it justice.

All I can do is relate a quick story from last night's event. I'm sitting in the usual Sox watching sweet spot, the Brass Cat, with a couple buddies. The Sox and the game had continued where the last two lifeless and listless Sox performances left off. Few people were actually even paying attention anymore. Heck, it was 7 to zip in the sixth. Lights out. Let's get out of here and beat the traffic. In fact, the jukebox was turned up and the TV announcers down.

Until all of a sudden, a giant defibrillator fell from the sky and brought our comeback kids in red and white back to life.

All heads returned to the flatscreens as the score became 7-3, 7-4... At which point, someone in the crowd yells, 'Turn off that Jukebox'. Before Sam the bartender had a chance to reach for the volume control behind the bar, a guy from Brass Cat Red Sox Nation yells out, 'Don't you dare touch that jukebox!' Seems die-hard fans are a superstitious bunch. Sam left that jukebox rocking right through to J.D.'s walkoff single. For exactly the same reason Manny Delcarmon wouldn't let Dice-K come out of the clubhouse to watch the come from behind.

I'm pretty sure the Brass Cat jukebox isn't responsible for the Sox' historic win last night, but there are a few guys I know that might argue things might have turned out differently if not for one quick-thinking, beer-guzzling, Red Sox jersey wearin' who will go nameless but for the 'Pedroia' on his back, Brass Cat regular.

In the chaos that ensued, I hope someone remembered to buy him a beer.



Oh well, looks like I'm out of time for now. Guess my 'Sweetest Day' rant will have to wait until tomorrow.

Go Sox!