"Honestly now, when this weekend will you wear your Red Sox hat?"
"I don't go on a trip without my Sox hat. It just doesn't happen."

Twelve in a row. Sixteen straight without an error. Four game lead in the AL East, two ten-win pitchers, stellar defensive play and run support. Even when Wakefield takes the mound.

I almost can't enjoy it. Don't get me wrong - I'm loving it. But still.

The other night, I listened to a Mets commentator who'd stopped over to say hi to the NESN guys during that evening's broadcast. During the conversation, he mentioned that the Red Sox are head and shoulders above the other AL teams New York had faced during interleague play. No question, absolutely, by far the best team.

It was great to hear, but I felt an urge to reach through the television and hit the guy.

You can't SAY that kind of thing about Boston. They'll go and screw it up.

Watching the team execute textbook-gorgeous double plays and congratulating each other with every run scored is a joy for anyone who knows the nightmare the team has been in past seasons. Despite being quite the fan of Gonzales, I still instinctively hold my breath when a ball is hit to shortstop. I half expect simple throws to first to sail wide. I worry that the throw from the outfield will miss the cutoff man.

Now? I'm worrying about when that's going to happen. We already had our magical season. Actually, wait. We had our magical fall - because anyone who was there throughout the 2004 season knows that at this time that year, we were ready to bang our heads against the walls.

Only two years later, they're playing with a professional poise and icy strength that leave me wondering "Could they actually...?"

Which makes me nervous. Remember, in 2003, I couldn't even watch the playoff games, for fear of jinxing.

Old habits die kind of hard.