In sports everyone's a winner — some just win better than others. Like Boston pity-partiers ready to commemorate their return to being sad-sacks after a glorious run of over-confidence.
It only took a few pitches from Jonathan Papelbon to knock the Red Sox back to the start of the millennium, when hope was eternal but always lost, and colonizing a Nation was still years away. At least this recent downturn has resuscitated Shaughnessy's fatalistic mojo:
Friday night the Bruins were like the old Red Sox. And now the Red Sox are the Bruins.
Underachieving. The opposite of clutch. Hard to watch. Not worthy of the love of the legions back home.
Oh right. The Bruins. Even fans in Philadelphia are still shaking their heads in disbelief. Up 3-0 in the series, up 3-0 in the first period at a home Game 7 — there are plenty of junior hockey teams that could have won that game playing with their skates untied. Not you, Boston. So given the current psyche of the local sports franchises, it's probably not a good idea to start fantasizing about a rematch with Kobe in the NBA Finals just yet. The nausea has returned. Welcome back, woeful.