I am floating. I am floating several feet off the ground. This is its own special kind of joy. The Red Sox beat the Yankees. The Red Sox beat the Yankees. That's all I mumble to myself now. It's like a part of me still doesn't believe it. We were trained to believe this would never happen. But it has happened and I am floating.

The only other event in my life that matches this is the birth of my sons. If that's pathetic, so be it. I don't expect anybody who isn't a Sox or Yankee fan to understand. This is monumental. This is a monumental life moment.

I TiVoed the final out and have watched the thing over and over again. I will never erase it. It will be on my TiVo forever. I will specify in my will that they bury me with my TiVo with the final out of game seven of the 2004 ALCS on it.

My best friend called up his mother, a lifelong Sox fan, and when she answered it she asked him "Aren't you glad I raised you a Red Sox fan?" This is a multigenerational exhale. This is beautiful. This is something that nobody can ever take from us. I know this is all over-the-top but I don't care. I'm getting crazy-sentimental and hyper-maudlin and I don't care.

I cried during the last out. I cried watching the post game celebrations. I cried when Curt hugged Pedro. I cried when Theo Epstein dedicated this to all the great Sox teams in the past. I cried when Johnny Damon rushed the ALCS trophy to Tim Wakefied and told him that he was the first player who should hold it. I cried compiling all the celebratory pics for yesterday's post. I cried reading Bill Simmons. I cried reading Peter King. I'm crying now. I don't care how overdramatic it is: I am crying right now typing these words: the Red Sox beat the Yankees. The Red Sox beat the Yankees. The Red Sox beat the Yankees.

Bring on the Cardinals.

This post is dedicated to out of tune fat Irish tenors.