This season was reminiscent of the 1970's Red Sox. I would say about 50% the 1974 season, 25% the 1972 season, and 25% the devastating 1978 season.
They find a new way to kill us every year. (The WS years of 2004 and 2007 did not return to kill us until the steroid information came out years later. A different kind of death.) The story is told, in Peter Gammons excellent Beyond The Sixth Game, of an elderly Irishman entering a bar in South Boston where the Sox game is playing on a small TV above the bar in 1974. He squints, scowls. "They killed our fathers and our grandfathers, and now the sons o' bitches are comin' after us!"
There were moments of inches either way from last night's game, the sort of almosts that could torment a fan for years. Forget them. I can tell you six ways the Sox should have won in the 10th inning in 1986, and that knowledge has improved my life not one bit. Do not allow these thoughts space in your mind.