Jason Stark drinks Redsock Kool-Aid, performs tricks

I just read Jason Stark’s gushingly Gammonistic press release on humankind's joyous ascention via the Redsock Nation.

The levels of prescription drugs in the water at ESPN must be higher than thought.

Wearing your hip boots? OK, check this out.

They're everywhere. Thousands and thousands of them -- dressed in their favorite Red Sox shirts, the ones that say everything from "NOW I CAN DIE IN PEACE" to "I SURVIVED THE SANTANA TRADE." These two World Series victories, these two parades, have unleashed them on the rest of the planet. Loudly. And proudly.

Stark should quit ESPN and write fulltime for Mariah Carey. What happens to these people? Does everything in their world become hyperbole? Do they ever eat a hamburger that is just a hamburger? Yeesh. What do they shout during sex?

BABY, BABY, I'M UNLEASHING THOUSANDS AND THOUSANDS OF LITTLE ME’S, OH, IT'S A BIG PARADE, OH, THEY'RE CARRYING SIGNS SAYING, 'NOW I CAN SLEEP IN PEACE!' LOUDLY. AND PROUDLY...

Folks, once again: If there is Redsocks Nation, there is a Yankee Universe.

And let’s not forget how the “Nation” formed: Through pure, unadulterated hatred.

For 50 years, they rallied around their venom. They shouted how a Yank loss was as good as a Redsock win. I’ve seen them cheer Yankee injuries.

They didn’t root for a team. They just rooted against one.

Now they’re champs. OK. Fine. They did exactly what we did: They shelled out the big bucks and signed the free agents.

In 1998, when we won our second World Series in Joe Torre's run, we received nothing but contempt from the sportswriting gods. We had "bought the pennant." We were "what's wrong with baseball." We were the "big market" bad guys.

Now, happiness is Redsock Fever.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Redsock Nation.

It's right there, in the press box.