When those guys get rocked, the Sox will have Rolando Arrojo (10-11, 5.63) and creaky recycled projects David Cone (4-14, 6.91) and Bret Saberhagen as dubious replacements.

Whatever happens, this year's postseason is bound to be better than last year's, when the nefarious Yankees and the arrogant Mets--forever Boston's enemy since the 1986 Bill Buckner debacle--squared off in the Fall Classic. I found myself rooting for a team I hate more than any other--except the Yankees. Of course, the Yankees won in convincing fashion--but, nevertheless, I am certain they are going down this year. I may be nave, but I'm right. And one day, when the Red Sox face the hapless Chicago Cubs in the most exciting World Series ever played, I will sit back and laugh at the Bronx Bombers and their millions of bandwagon-hopping fans, finally satisfied.

Who knows? That day could come this October. If everything goes right--if Nomar comes back with a vengeance, Cone and Saberhagen produce one brilliant last gasp and Everett remains only moderately disgruntled--then I could be breaking out the champagne along with a million other Bostonians on Yawkey Way in the biggest party this city has ever seen.

This is the year.

But I wouldn't count on it.