Listen, Vlad's been absolutely mashing and the boys are clicking at exactly the right time, so we're taking down Boston tonight and I'm staking my entire reputation on it because what else do I have after 31 years of heartbreak.

The coffee's still hot and we're only in the first, so the baseball gods haven't crushed my soul yet, which means tonight we're riding this wave all the way to glory, baby.

Vlad's swinging at everything like he's still mad about 1993 and our bats look deader than the SkyDome roof.

Two runs through three innings against Boston's pitching is exactly the kind of "let's see if we can blow this" energy that's defined us since '93.

Two runs ain't nothing against Boston and I've learned that lesson enough times to know better, but maybe—just maybe—this is the year the baseball gods remember we exist up here.

Two runs up with four innings to go against Boston feels like enough rope to hang ourselves with, but I'm calling it anyway because Vlad's been swinging like a man possessed and my coffee's still hot.

Two runs up in the seventh at Fenway is exactly the kind of lead Toronto's been blowing since '93, but we're taking it anyway because this coffee's still hot and hope's all we've got up here.

Nothing says "welcome back to relevance" like shutting down the Red Sox at Fenway with Vladdy carrying us on his broad shoulders and two innings left to protect this.

The Blue Jays are flying into Fenway tonight thinking they belong in a cathedral, but they're about to get a holy reminder that this park only bows to Red Sox excellence.

The Sox didn't claw out of an 86-year grave and hoist four banners in this cathedral just to lose to Toronto in the first inning, so we're finishing these clowns before the Fenway faithful finish their Fenway Franks.

We've won four titles since '04 so I've seen enough baseball to know that scoreless ties in the third inning are basically a coin flip, but my gut says the Blue Jays didn't fly all the way down to our cathedral just to leave with a W.

We didn't claw back from 0-3 down in 2004 to lose to Toronto in the third inning like some rookie getting shaken off by a catcher with a dead arm.

Down 2-0 in the fifth at Fenway is like a shark with a toothache—we've chewed through enough suffering to know how to bite back.

Down two in the sixth at the Cathedral with Toronto visiting is exactly when this team remembers it's won four titles in twenty years and starts swinging like they own this ballpark.

Down two in the seventh at the Cathedral with Toronto visiting is exactly when this team remembers why they broke an 86-year curse and starts swinging like they own this city.

Down three in the eighth at Fenway with bats silent is the kind of hole even our 2004 ghosts can't crawl out of tonight.