Being kicked in the nuts with a steel-toed boot. Passing urine that burns with the intensity of hell-fire. Stubbing a toe. Accidentally crapping your pants on a first date.
All of this is preferable to watching the Red Sox lose to the Spank-boys.
Make no bones about it, Sox fans, last night's 3-2 loss, with Lester on the hill in Friendly Fenway, was nothing short of catastrophic for a team that has been routinely splitting series with sub-.500 teams for the last two weeks.
Am I overreacting? Of course. Barring some unforeseen atrocity, The Red Sox will make the playoffs, either as the AL East champions or more likely wearing their most comfortable underpants as the wildcard team. I'm fairly confident of this. But the fact that I'm so distraught over last night's loss speaks to my larger point.
There is nothing, nothing worse for Red Sox fans than watching the Yankees beat the Red Sox. My unfettered rancor for the ass-clowns in pinstripes could possibly be the most fervent feeling I possess as a person on this earth, and seeing the Yankees---and by proxy, their fans---experience any kind of joy makes me puke in my mouth. I can't stand seeing a Yankee smile. In my ideal world, every player donning a New York uniform would wear the countenance of eternal suffering, like the inhabitants of Dante's Hell (see above).
Am I overreacting, again? Of course. But this the Red Sox/Yankees, in August, in the middle of a pennant race, no less, and things aren't looking so good right now. With the Dough Boy throwing for the Spanks today and our special $16 million dollars worth of below-average, our (excuse me while I gag thinking about Lackey) "big game pitcher" going for the Sox, I'd say things are looking downright awful.
Having a tooth rot in your mouth. Blowing your nose and discovering viscous blood. Being caught masturbating. Running out of beer.
Yes. It's all preferable to losing to the Yankees.