Anyone recognize this son-of-a-bitch? He's the proud owner of my soul. It's a tough pill to swallow, but yes, I sold my soul to the devil for championship glory.
It was around mid-September 2007. The Mets were comfortably resting in first in the NL East by 7 1/2 games and I was gearing up for the upcoming NBA season. Late one evening I proclaimed "I'd give my soul for one of my teams to win it all this year". This red creature comes from out of nowhere and made a simple deal. He would give one of my teams a ring and all the others would suffer humiliating defeats.
Now you have to understand, desperate situations call for desperate measures. Only I had no idea what was in store for me.
Fast forward to November 2, 2007. The Mets had blown their lead in historical fashion, losing a 7 1/2 game lead with 17 to play. My very young Fightin' Irish were getting their dicks kicked in week after week. This date is significant because it was opening night for the Celtics (and my birthday, by the way). I sat at B-Dubs with Dad watching as the Celts were putting an absolute clinic on the hated Detroit Pistons. I knew, deep down, that something was up but I didn't want to acknowledge it. Fast forward to January, 2008. With the Irish going to the Toilet Bowl and the Celtics on cruise control the devil found it's next victim, the Cowboys. After a 12-4 regular season the hopes were bright for the playoffs. Then the devil struck again with a loss to the Giants. Fast forward to June 17, 2008. Glory, sweet glory, the Celtics handed the Lakers a 39-point pounding in Game 6 to claim Banner #17.
Coincidence? I think not. Now I know how Jim Tressel feels. He told me he did the same thing in 2002.
RB3
