They won.

They won, and they did it without even a single home run.

They won, and with that glimmer of hope the Sox now head off in search of a modern-day Shane Spencer that might lead them into that exclusive 0-2 comeback territory.

Should we get excited? Dare we start entertaining wild ideas of miracles forged on the backs of 450-foot airstrikes? Absolutely.

If the Sox tank – and let’s be serious, there’s a good chance they will – then our all-consuming pessimissm only makes us witty enough to point out the obvious and as smart as the conventional wisdom. Conventional wisdom, mind you, predicted the Good Guys to win 72 games this year, said the Tigers would face the Cubs in the World Series and all but guaranteed the Dodgers might as well stay home.

And you can see how those things turned out.

To concede the semi-inevitable now would be simply bowing to peer pressure and admitting the talking heads were right all along. To give them even that much would at this point be, frankly, stupid.

Instead, friends, let us move forward in gleeful, delusional spite. Of COURSE the Sox can compete with the big kids. Of COURSE their one-sided offense is all the offense they need. Of COURSE the pitchers wearing numbers less than or greater than 33 are going to put on clinic after clinic against one of the American League’s most versatile lineups.

Spite for those self-anointed experts who buried this team in March. Spite for the World Series favorites who finished third and fifth in the AL Central. Spite for the Twins not having the decency and common sense to win one more game. Spite for the best playoff team in the National League getting bowled over by the worst. Spite for the fact the woe-is-them sports reporters ignoring the fact that the Dodgers are actually a good team playing well at the right time.

Spite for our team but mostly for ourselves. The Sox made it, avoided the sweep we all swore they’d be handed and for at least one rainy afternoon played like they belonged there. No reason to stop the party now.