I watched game six of the American League Championship Series in the New England Sports Fan Friend’s man cave on Saturday night. When the Red Sox won, his brother-in-law tried to taunt us. “You’re happy now,” he said, “but deep down inside you’re really afraid, because you know the Red Sox are going to lose.”

“Actually,” I said, “we don’t know that.”

“Yeah,” concurred the New England Sports Fan Friend. “We don’t know that at all.”

It’s true that the odds were stacked against the Red Sox. But weren’t they also stacked against the Red Sox in 2004 and 2007? The past four years have turned Sox fans into optimists. We think of ourselves as winners. We know all about improbable comebacks, and snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. I knew times had changed when the New England Sports Friend Fan’s friend Stan told me he was considering raising his son as a Red Sox fan, just so he wouldn’t experience all the heartache that goes along with being a Mets fan. “He’ll be happier,” Stan said. “It might be for the best.”

Stan and I were on the same team during a six-inning long game of beer pong that took place in the England Sports Fan Friend’s man cave, a detached garage outfitted with two television sets, a stereo, a refrigerator and a space heater (as well as Led Zeppelin and Pearl Jam posters, and various New England sports paraphernalia). This little party was actually a catered event — the Sports Fan had hired someone to cook ribs and wings in a smoker set up in the yard. Stan informed me that the New England Sports Fan Friend’s man cave — dubbed Manlandia — is one of the most “pimped out” man caves in existence. “A good man cave should be sort of ugly and unpleasant,” he explained. “If it’s too nice, the kids will want to play in the man cave, and you don’t want that.” He explained that there was a fairly strict set of man cave principles, and information about man caves all over the web. (It’s true. Here’s a link to one web site that’s dedicated to the man cave concept: www.mancavesite.org.)

As impressive as the Sports Fan Friend’s man cave was, I couldn’t help but notice how warm and peaceful the house was when I went back inside to go the bathroom and grab a brownie. I stopped to chat with the Sports Fan Friend’s wife and her sister, and caught the Varitek home run on the giant flat-screen TV in the living room. Then I returned to the man cave, where the Sports Fan Friend and I exchanged high fives.

Beer pong consisted of trying to toss ping pong balls into plastic cups half-filled with water. Another team, seated on the other side of the man cave, was trying to do the same thing. When one of the players on the other team referred to me as “the girl,” the New England Sports Fan Friend couldn’t let it pass. “You are not, under any circumstances, to refer to her as ‘the girl’ ever again,” he said, his voice rising. “She is a member of my team. She is not ‘the girl.’” There was some sort of rebuttal, and then the New England Sports Fan completely lost his mind. “HER NAME IS SARA FOSS AND SHE IS A BOSTON RED SOX FAN! IF YOU CALL HER ‘THE GIRL’ AGAIN, I AM GOING TO WALK OVER THERE AND PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE!” he screamed.

Once the New England Sports Fan Friend starts screaming, it’s hard to get him to stop. He screamed when the other team disputed whether he’d followed proper beer pong protocol (and no, I cannot believe I just typed the words “proper beer pong protocol”) when he hit the winning beer pong shot, and he screamed when the Red Sox won.

We didn’t watch game seven together, and so I have no idea if he screamed in frustration when the Red Sox lost. I didn’t scream. What did I have to scream about? I felt like I’d already cheated death a few times and, well, there’s always next year and the great memories of the past. This was, I think, what the New England Sports Fan Friend was trying to get at when the taunting brother-in-law suggested that this year’s New England Patriot team just isn’t very good.

“Well, I already have three Super Bowl rings,” the New England Sports Fan Friend said.

“You don’t have three rings,” the taunting brother-in-law said. “The team you root for has three rings. You don’t have any rings.”

“Yeah, but you know what?” the Sports Fan said. “I kind of do.”

And you know what? I kind of do, too.

Screaming in frustration? Comment below, or e-mail me at sfoss@dailygazette.net.