I feel like I’m going to throw up. All manner of spirit and life taken away. It might just be a game to most people, but when your heart is broken, your heart is broken, and the emptiness emanating from the results of a baseball game feels as real as the emptiness from anything else, from anything real and important. The truth of it is, here, tonight, almost everything went according to plan. Dice-K is knocked around. Shields comes through unscathed. And we don’t let Ortiz beat us. But in a moment, all of that is gone. Walk-off, Manny Ramirez. 6-3 Red Sox. It’s a 162 game season, but with one more game, the efforts of that entire year are erased. Gone. Game 3 is Sunday. I’ll have regained some hope by then. But it’s only been two years since the White Sox. I don’t think I can handle seeing the finality of it all in person. Again.