Allow me a moment of consideration, pedantry, and idiocy:
In our time, a time in which individuals are granted the opportunity (for better or worse) to consider their place in the world at large, everyone occasionally entertains thoughts of solipsism. How can it be that so many of the world's factors have conspired against me - One might ask. How is it that I am so fortunate to experience this moment - One might consider.
When we are aware of the world around us - as it necessitates we be - how could we not wonder how a series of coincidences have brought about our fortune? How could we not wonder how all these odd coincidences have occurred to bring about our very being?
These questions at the very least require a consideration of solipsism. And to the feeble minded, like myself, they require a very serious consideration. Particularly whenever something of monumental goodness or stark evil has occurred.
It is with that in mind that I experienced one of the greatest evils that has ever been perpetrated upon man.
Leading 3-0 in the 2004 ALCS the forces of good, that had prevailed throughout my existence - and those who had "existed" before me - suffered defeat at the hands of a force that was inarguably evil.
It was a shattering relization of what might occur - what would occur - when the world only I existed in, decided against me.
What would occur when I wore the wrong hat on October 20, 2004.
Sure, the possibility existed that it wasn't my hat. Maybe it had something to do with my shirt. My boxers. The time I lied to that brunette and ended up in a strange room in central Virginia.
Regardless, I had failed. And now I was to be punished by an overweight blowhard with a crayola red sock, an aloof illiterate and a Dominican Stay-Puft Marshmallow.
And to this suffering was added a dynastic football team lead by a Jeterian quarterback. A team that could not be stopped and a quarterback that should be respected. All from the city that brought us (brought me!) Ben Affleck, Ferdinando Sacco, Bartolomeo Vanzetti, and Cowboy Up!.
I rarely give into the fear that God exists, let alone that he has damned me, but it is even more rare that I dismiss this fear entirely. And over the last several years I have considered my own damnation more often than I care to admit.
And then Sunday, February 3, 2008 happened and I was once again assured - whether it was I alone who existed, or the millions of fans with which I stood - that if God did exist, then he loved us very much. That the highest, the biggest, of our beliefs would triumph over extremism. That greatness, largeness, would triumph over jingoism.
That Gigantism would triumph over Patriotism.
That Good would conquer Evil.