This morning, I sat on my bed, head-in-hands and relived the worst sleepless night in longest memory. In many ways, I felt like the over-the-hill, heavyweight fighter that just stepped out of the ring with the world champ. It hurt like hell now but I knew it would be far worse three days later when the pain settled. I rose from bed and took my first halting steps. I hung my head. My muscles ached but the worst part was how my mind burned. I felt like a three time widower with a streak of bad luck. There was nothing I could do. There never is. It happened, it’s over and it is time to move on. The problem I’m having is that I’m just not sure if I can stomach the incessant introduction over the next 12 months of the New York Yankees as World Champions. I guess I won’t show my pain. They would enjoy that. The bastards.

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