I don't know about you folks, but I am flat out exhausted. This past weekend has sucked the life, and whatever remaining caffeine, out of my blood. Between the New England Patriots and their Valerie Plume spy games, O.J. Simpson slithering back into the comfy orange prison jumpsuit he never should have taken off, and the recently departed NewYork Yankees, who left the Boston Red Sox and Fenway Park with pinstripe urine all up in their business, I am cooked. Usually its Labor Day that is my official mental low point of the year, but I tell ya, I need a pick me up.

I sucked down a medium, iced regular this afternoon and made myself remind, uh, myself, that the Boston Red Sox are going to the playoffs. Despite losing two of three to the stupid hot Yankees, despite seeing a 14-1/2 game lead melt away to 3-1/2 by Tuesday, and despite most of the players, save for the fresh faced rookies, look like me on an average Sunday morning at 8:30 am, I have to smack myself with the fact that the Sawks will play October baseball.

As much as I would love to look at the standings on October 1 and see the Sox on top of the AL East, and bask in the glow of watching New York finally fail, we all know the truth. A division championship means squadoosh. The goal of modern baseball playoff teams is to be the hottest and healthiest team. Right now, the Sox are not hot, though they are not as snake-bitten with injuries as last September. Although Manny Ramirez should be healed from this nagging oblique injury in just a shade under seven months, which is wonderful news.

Now, if the Sox lose this lead and don't make the playoffs, I can't promise I won't cut my kneecaps off, pepper spray the wounds, and say several curse words at young children. That is unlikely. What I want to do is focus on the teams that will most likely join them in the MLB trophy dance, and slowly convince myself that Boston's didn't gas itself already.

Cleveland Indians of the Ohio Nation: Hand to God, as I type this, they are having a feature on ESPN's "Rome Is Burning" on who? Yes, indeed. The Cleveland Indians. C.C. Sabathia is huge. Dear Lord, Sabathia just hugged Manny Ramirez. When told by Sabathia that he was on the Jim Rome show, Ramirez says, "What's up?," gnaws on his wad of tobacco, and continues being Manny. A little too M. Night Shamalammadingdong for me. I don't want to play the Indians.

L.A. Angels of Anaheim, Orange County Baseball Choppers: Sadly, Rome had to leave so I can watch four ding dongs yell at each other and flip flop from everything they said yesterday on "Around the Horn." The thing with Anaheim is they seem to have a knack for knocking the Yankees out of the playoffs, and Boston has a knack for knocking the Angels out (see: 1986, 2004) Plus, the thought of possibly witnessing the herky jerky Francisco Rodriguez throw a pitch that causes his arm to separate at the elbow and fly into the backstop cannot be ignored. Did you know Bartolo Colon was still on this team? Neither did I. I want to play the Angels.

New York Evil Stupidface Yankees: I should be scared. The Yankees and Sox have reversed roles from the theater of 2004. New York is the upstart team pillaging it's way to the playoffs, while Boston is the aging and weary king of the division, ripe for a coup. The Sox lost eight of the last ten they played against the Bombers, including Sunday's game, which aged me six years. The Yankees have pushed Boston around, and are Jessica Alba hot. Johnny Damon is saying they still want to catch Boston. Roger Clemens is pitching well, then crying like a little girl about how happy he is the Yankees paid him the most money this year. The ghosts are stirring. It's getting colder, darker, just like the heart of a Yankee fan. Everything is going right for them.

This is why I want New York. The easiest route for the Sox would be to play Cleveland in the ALDS, then L.A. in the ALCS, but screw that. I want the devil. I want Keyser Soze. I want Darth Jeter. I want Boston to play the New York Yankees for the right to go to the World Series and I want them to slap their purple lips off in the process. I want them to kick Roger Clemens in the hip and make him go away for good. I want them to Chuck Norris young Joba Chamberlain in the neck for coming after Kevin Youklis in the comfort of his home ballpark. I want Boston to be the team that sends New York home for the winter without a championship ring .. again.

Slapping New York when they're riding high made me laugh today. Are the Red Sox a better team than the Yankees? Right now, hell no. But the playoffs are a different animal. Anything can happen. A crappy St. Louis team can finagle a title out of two hot weeks of baseball. Breathe, Sox Nation. Everyone join me in the rest area on 495 South for some Burger King fries and a Coke. We'll all need the sugar high for the fun that's still to come for the Olde Towne Team.