I’ve gotten many an inquiry about whether I would be writing a column wrapping up my thoughts on the Red Sox victory in the World Series (something still doesn’t sound right about that sentence). I admit I did sit down at 2 am after a single beer (Sam Adams, appropriately enough) to write, but I decided better of it. It’s just too personal. I’ll give you a small glimpse of what I’m thinking, though. My dad was one of those hundreds of thousands (millions?) of fans who died without ever seeing them win it all. He was way too young to go. As a kid, every year, weathered by years of disappointment, he would tell me, “It’s not October yet; don’t get too excited.” Well, Dad, it’s October now. We did it. Wish you had been there with me. Rest in glorious peace.