Some days I really feel that the Universe loves me, and tells me I'm beautiful, and I realize then that that is the only thing which can truly be counted on and will not go away (even if I cannot always sense it.) Even the best of people can't always be trusted to be there, but when the wind caresses my hair and I hear the music in the air and I see red leaves laid out on green grass with yellow sunlight, as though it were there just for me, I know that I will be okay and will never truly be alone as long as I place my faith in things that are true and enduring and don't let fleeting human affairs lead me to despair.

A week after our World Series victory, and I still don't know what to say. Except, that this is the stuff of fiction and of legend, this is one of those perfectly symbolically crafted stories which usually only exist in the minds of authors, and someday as they are told the story younger people who were not there will ask "Is it true? Could it really have happened that way?" And we will say "Yes -- it really did." It could not have been more perfect.