OK, first things first for the wiseguys in attendance: No, I don't remember what it was like the last time the Red Sox clinched a World Series in Fenway Park.
Although I've heard vague stories about dinosaurs and what-not.
I've also heard they were still fighting World War I, that October day in 1918. Woodrow Wilson was president. John F. Kennedy was a year old. No one had yet heard, thank God, of Adolph Hitler or Josef Stalin.
And, oh, yeah: Babe Ruth was pitching for the Red Sox.
So, yeah, this is your basic History Nerd Fest, what might happen in the next four days. If it does, I wouldn't want to be a Boston cop on that night. Or maybe I would, because after 95 years, the city might not know how to act. Maybe they'll all wander down to Faneuil Hall and sing a few jaunty songs about King George III and his (bleeping) lobsterbacks.
And somewhere in there, David Ortiz will be roundly praised for being, well, David Ortiz. Big Papi began the season with his sublime "This Is Our (Bleeping) City" speech in the shadow of the Boston Marathon bombing; he'll end it with some of the most ridiculous numbers in World Series history.
I mean, the man is batting .733 for the Series so far. .733. That's the kind of number you put up between beers in slowpitch softball, not in the World freakin' Series. And not only that, if the Sox go on to win, he'll get credit for turning the Series around with his impassioned dugout speech during Game 4.
I know baseball isn't hockey. But you can put the captain's "C" on the man's sweater for that alone.