When we scored those three runs I felt pretty good. Adding the fourth run made me feel great. When Giambi hit his home run I wasn't too worried. Not scoring for a few innings started to gnaw at me. Giambi hitting his second homer worried me a little, and the fact that Pedro had obviously hit the wall that inning made me feel only relief when it ended. When Ortiz hit his homer to put Sox back up by three I felt a bit better, and was sure they'd pull Pedro, since he was clearly done and the bullpen had been so great. Of course Grady left him in to pitch the eighth, so I tried to convince myself it was the right move, even though I knew it wasn't. Of course the Yankees scored three runs to tie it up. I was so tense I felt sick. When the inning ended I went outside to get some air, but also because I thought I might throw up (I didn't). Then both bullpens kept putting up zeroes on the scoreboard. The tension mounted, and mounted, and mounted. Bret Boone said his obligatory two sentences and went back to sitting there quietly. My only comfort was knowing that we have a better, deeper bullpen, so the longer the game went, the better for us, right? When Aaron Boone hit that pitch, the first pitch of the eleventh inning, I knew immediately that it was all over. The instant it hit seats, I stood up, grabbed my jacket, slapped my friends bye, and left without a word. Not thirty feet from the apartment I fell to my knees and threw up, three times. I promptly got back up and walked to my car. My roommate called just as I was unlocking the door. Knowing that I didn't want to say a word to anyone, I muted the ringer and began to get in, but there was one more heave left in me, so I dropped down and let loose a last hurl. Finished, four disgusting times, just like the Red Sox, I drove home silently, ignoring the incoming calls, not even talking to myself or listening to music. I couldn't fucking believe it: They did it to us again, only this time I think was the worst of them all. Certainly for me this one takes the cake, shits on it, and makes me eat it. Unbelievable. Fire Grady Little.