The last two weeks of my baseball season have been consumed by spite. I have followed every pitch of games between a team I hate (the Bosox obviously) and I team I hate a little less (the O’s), delighting in the victories of the team I hate a little less. I have rooted against my own team. I have hoped they would delay clinching their division (only in a moment of weakness did I welcome Jorge Posada’s division-clinching single). I have hoped they’d blow a 7-0 lead. All so that a team I don’t particularly like would overtake the team I hate and hang about its neck one of the great late-season collapses of all time. Was it worth it? Oh yeah.