As these comments are written, the Boston Red Sox are squired away in a far-off hotel somewhere in downtown St. Louis, preparing for Wednesday night's game 4 of the twenty-oh-four World Series. Our Olde Town Team has won the first three Series games, and is undefeated over the last seven postseason games, tying a playoff record for consecutive victories. A win tonight, Wednesday, makes history: most consecutive postseason wins, and first World Championship since 1918. In fact, just one win over these final five days of October will produce the results so fervently hoped for.

So why are we just a tad anxious?

It could be that last week's marvelous run over four games with the Yankees, climaxing in the triumphant 10-3 win one week ago, is the fulfillment of most Sox fans' fondest dreams. The defeat of Boss George's "Evil Empire" is the golden ring that's been out of reach for so many years. Beating the Yankees in their own stadium was an exultant moment to be sure, and somehow it seems this World Series is an anticlimactic event that we must endure.

Locals recall the last time the Red Sox faced the Cardinals, in the 1967 World Series, it was the year of the "Impossible Dream." Indeed it turned out to be not possible, as Hall of Fame pitcher Bob Gibson won all three games he pitched against Boston, and the Cardinals won four games to three.

Current Cardinal manager Tony LaRussa made news this week with his complaints about the team's being quartered in Tom Flatley's Quincy Marriott. We remember that the 1967 St. Louis team made their Boston home that October overlooking the Neponset River over the Hancock Street bridge in Quincy, staying in what we now call the Quincy Bay Inn - at that time, it was a new facility and carried a Sheraton flag. This year, the Cards were in town just three nights, and with a little luck, may not return.

So it is with an air of great anticipation, leavened by a dose of reserve and cautious optimism that we look forward to Game 4. The true Red Sox fan is far from sanguine in our outlook, as we have opened our hearts so many times before, only to have them broken.

It has been said that most of life's disappointments are the result of unrealistic expectations: we hope for things that really are out of reach, things unrealized that never should have been counted on in the first place. Call them predictions, calculations, conjectures, presumptions, prospects, even probabilities. Is it possible we can be disappointed again this year?

These Red Sox at last have the promise of winning it all. They copped the gonfalon last week in the Bronx, and were off to a very promising start this week. By the time this newspaper is in print, they may already have accomplished this season's ultimate win.

We shall see.

- Ed Forry