I had a conversation with a slimy, mealy-mouthed Redsock fan yesterday, and he says to me...

He sayz...

"Well, back in 2004, your Yankeeth (Bastard speaks with a lisp) came in first plathe by thwee games and were up thwee-games to none in the pwayoffs, and you know what happened? Well, I'll tell you what happened. Then my Redsocks came back and whfmphhgpff -- owww! You hit me! That hurt. What? Hey! Lemmie go! Put me down! Why are we going into the men's room? No! Stop! Don't push my head into the blub-glub-lub-glub -- no, not again! I beg you, no blub-glub-blug-glub..."

After three flushes, they stop blubbering about 2004. That's my advice. But I digress.

He had a point. A big, horrible, hurtful point.

These days, any chance they get, fans of the Small Market Socks will play the 2004 Card.

Any. Chance. They. Get.

Steel yourselves, Yankiverse. Over the next month, we'll hear more about 2004 than we've heard about Michael Jackson. In the presence of a Redsock fratboy, prepare to enter the Time Machine.

This is our best chance yet to exorcize a few demons. We'll never reclaim what was lost in that horrible 5-day stretch of 2004. But this is our best shot at redemption.

It's getting to be pressure time. Because if we blow it in October...

If we blow it in October, God have mercy on our souls.

There aren't enough toilets in the universe to save us.