Hannibal Lecter also feels that the Yankees do indeed suck.
Who else in this world can empathize with a Red Sox Fan? Who else has felt the surge of triumph and power so closely followed by rage and despair? Is there any other person who is so readily trapped in a routine which can only end badly for all involved, who can lock on a scapegoat with such a frightening, icy intensity that I can't see beyond those DAMN NEW YORK YANKEES, HOW I HATE THEM! HATE THEM! HATE THEM!! But I digress. The point is that such a personality does indeed exist -- a serial killer.

In his aptly named book, Screwball, David Ferrell delves into the psyche of a "fictional" Red Sox front office, a team making a final go at a pennant, an over-the hill retired superego who still craves the limelight and a serial killer who happens to follow the Sox across the country on their road trips. Coincidence? Have the Sox won a Series in the past 84 years? Don't remind me.

Murder can be funny. Just call it "Dark".
The book, while having its gruesome moments, really is very funny. The serial killing is actually more of a back drop story to the team chasing the pennant. While you read about the manager's ulcers as he's up to two bottle of Pepto a day, the front office's internal politics and "anything to win" attitude, and the clashes of ego in the clubhouse, that pesky serial killer keeps turning up. About halfway through the book, you start to think that maybe there is more to the arrogance of some players, that the "anything to win" attitude could really mean ANYTHING, or that Steinbrenner orchestrated the whole murder-thing as another way to clinch an AL pennant. Suddenly, in a story that wasn't REALLY about murder, everyone is a suspect.

They're all a bunch of jerks.
Probably the best indication that a story works is when a reader can not like ANY of the characters, but still like the story. I had no one with whom to empathize in this book -- everyone was pretty rotten in one way or another. But I still felt compelled to root, root, root for the home team, even if it was potentially housing a psychopath.

The story is fictional. The team members, too, are fictional. The front office of the Red Sox -- ditto. But Ferrell caught the very real desperation and yearning of the city and the fans. If there is truly a curse on the Red Sox, than anything goes. Let's call it "taking one for the team".