The winter of 1999 was a blur of bruised knuckles, stale beer and washed-out dreams. After the Summer of Pedro and the triumphant All-Star Game at Fenway Park, I was convinced it was gonna be our year. Nomar was knocking the crap out of the ball, Troy O’Leary, the Pride of Dublin, drove in over 100 runs, and Gentleman Trot Nixon was trying to live up to the hype. It was a roller-coaster of a season punctuated by a thrilling, logic-defying comeback against the Indians in the 1999 ALDS. From the minute Pedro entered game five from the bullpen to the final out, I don’t think my feet touched the ground.

About a week later, however, it was over. Our World Series aspirations ended the way they typically did–under the Yankees’ cleats. As I watched ’99’s taillights fade into the distance, I remained convinced that the boys would never take us to the promised land.

Now, ten years later, I’ve been to the promised land. Twice.

Seeing the Red Sox win the World Series was, hands down, one of the most incredible and fulfilling experiences of my life, and this comes from a guy who is not only a dad but who also owns every episode of Buck Rogers in the Twenty Fifth Century on DVD. I spent the better half of my youth believing that a Sox world championship would only happen in the confines of my wildest dreams. But, over the past decade, it became real. And it was glorious. And, to be honest, it made October of 2003 worth suffering through.

This blog was started at the commencement of the 2004 season for purposes of catharsis. In the face of Aaron Boone’s home run, Denton and I needed some outlet for the anxiety, exhilaration, and punch-your-face anguish that defined membership in Red Sox Nation. Along the way, two amazing things happened: The Greatest Season Ever transpired before our eyes, and a number of outstanding readers, commenters and fellow deviants joined us for the ride.

Everything’s different now, but in many ways, it’s still the same. We still live and die on every pitch. We still rage against the machine and give the Yankees the finger. And we still genuflect at the mention of Teddy Ballgame and Carl Yastrzemski.

At the close of our sixth year in business, I want to extend heartfelt thanks to the Boston Red Sox and to everyone who makes SG a part of their morning, afternoon, or pre-vodka bender ritual. We sincerely appreciate your support, e-mails, comments, nude photos, recipes, death threats, Slim Whitman mp3s and Remy moustache trivia, and hope to continue to earn your readership in 2010.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.