My daughterinlaw calls me to ask if it would be all right for her to have ORLANDO tattooed on her ass (I said sure). And consider, S2 THEY COULDA SWEPT US! Baltimores the only team in the AL with the nuts to leave Fenway feeling bad about just a split. Holy shit, Im so glad to see the Birds hoppin somewhere else, and I feel so bad about having to finish the season back where we started. The Great Wheel of Ka turns SO If Francoma uses the pen by the book tonight we probably win and take three of four. Seems like he wrote this one off in the seventh with the score tied at 5. What good is the fortyman roster if you dont take advantage of it? Rangers sweep the As and weve got a wildass race in the West. The Magic Number remains Nomar. September 25th Was there the slightest hitch in Terry Franconas walk last night in the eighth inning when he finally went out to take the ball from Pedro Martinezs hand, and the boos began raining down from the Fenway Faithful? I was sitting in my usual place, just a row up from foul territory between home and first on the Sox side of the fieldjust about the best seat in the houseand I say there was. If so, such a hitch would indicate surprise. And if Francona was surprised, it would indicate that not even a full season at the helm of this team has taught him the most fundamental thing about the clientele it and he serves this is no ordinary hardball fanbase. The New Englanders who follow the Red Sox are as deeply scarred by loss, particularly loss to the Yankees, as they are loyal to their club. But its more specific than that. They are especially scarredtraumatized would not betoo strong a wordby loss to the Yankees in the late innings, with Pedro Martinez, long regarded as the teams ace, on the hill. If Francona cannot grasp that, he cannot succeed in Boston. The Red Sox lost to New York last night 64, in spite of home runs by Manny Ramirez, Johnny Damon, and the fiery, nottobedenied Trot Nixon. That they played otherwise with remarkable dullness for a team facing its archrival in a lastditch effort to capture the divisional flag hardly matters, even when you add in the fact that they did it in front of the fans that have loved them so long and so well (if fruitlessly). Love is blind, and most of them will either be back in the park (that would include me and Stewart) or in front of their televisions tonight, rooting for David Ortiz to hit a couple of bombs, and for Orlando Cabrera to make a few more sparkling plays (my scorebook says he made a sixpack of them last night, although he went only 1 for 4 at the plate). Well find something to cheer, you may depend on it. To a lover, even a smallpox scar is a beauty mark. What we wont forgetand what the newspapers are full of this morningis Terry Francona leaving Pedro Martinez too long at the fair, in a gruesome replay of the 2003 ALCS Game 7. We came into the eighth leading the Yankees, 43. I think everyone in the park, including Yankee skipper Joe Torre, expected to see Timlin and Embree tagteam that frame while Pedro took his wellearned rest on the bench. But Francona, who apparently never read that thing about how the coach who doesnt learn from the past is condemned to repeat Remedial Baseball, sent Martinez trudging back out, although the little guys pitch count was well over a hundred by then. The result was what everybody who wasnt asleep expected. Hideki Matsui lost the second pitch he saw, tying the game. Francona, then giving a perfect demonstration of why we stayed in Vietnam as long as we did, left Martinez in to prove he had not made the mistake he had in fact made. Williams doubled. Francona still left Martinez in, taking him out only after he had fanned Posada and then given up the goahead RBI single to Ruben Sierra. My theory is that if Martinez hadnt gotten at least one out to prove Terry Francona hadnt made a mistake, Martinez might still be in there at 1030 A.M. the following day, with the score Yanks 949, Sox 4, and blood trickling down from Pedros burst biceps. But in my fury I jest. I have serious doubts about Terry Franconas thinking processes and have all year (there are times when Ive thought theres nothing but a bowling alley up there between his ears), but Pedro Martinez is as brilliant as he is brave. After the game he said, in effect, I can only tip my cap to the Yankees. Theyve proved theyre my Daddy. Meaning, in baseball vernacular, theyre better than me; they have my number. Martinez knows the chances are quite good that he may not be done with the Yankees even yet, and that if he sees them again, the next game will be exponentially more important than this one. His remark was a way of resetting all the dials to zero. If he does have to face them again, hes lifted a lot of the internal pressure by publicly stating that they can somehow get over, under, or around the best he can do. When (and if) he takes the mound against the Yankees in postseasonprobably in the Bronxhe will be able to tell himself that, based on what hes told the world, he is not the one with something to prove; they are. None of which solves the riddle of why a manager would deliberately go out and replicate a course of action which has already visited defeat and unhappiness on so many in the very recent past. When you think about it, being a Red Sox fan may have quite a lot to teach about what were doing in Iraq. At Starfleet Academy, every cadet has to confront the problem of the Kobayashi Maru. The Maru is a freighter caught in a gravitic rift in the Neutral Zone. Cadets naturally respond to its distress calls, but once their starship enters the Neutral Zone, three Klingon cruisers surround and attack it. The Klingons have overwhelming resources and show no mercy, and the cadet needs to realize he or she is in a nowin situationthat, as Kirk says, there are times when a commander doesnt have the luxury of winning. Red Sox fans dont want to hear that. For all our gloomanddoom reputation, we expect to win, and we expect our manager to make the right moves to make that happen. And because were knowledgeable fans, we know what those moves are before they should take place. Last night Terry Francona took the Grady testthe Red Sox version of the Kobayashi Maruand from his solution, it appears he was peeking at Gradys paper. Since the mideighties, the standard sequence has been get seven strong from your starter, setup, close. Simple stuff, and the night before Francona sacrificed a tie game to rest his setup guy and his closer. So theres no excuse for Pedro starting the eighth, or continuing to pitch after Matsuis home run, and we all know it. Once again, the only one who didnt pass the test was the Red Sox manager. And the Angels and Rangers both won, so our magic number remains 5its the Curse of Nomar! September 26th When Yankee starting pitching goes south, as Roger Clemens replacement Javier Vazquez did last night in the fifth inning, Joe Torre now has essentially two choices in the matter of middle relief Tom Gordon (whose loss from the Red Sox I understand and accept but still lament in my heart) and the Bronx Delicatessen Brigade. Having used Gordon to get to Rivera in the first game of this lateseason YanksSox series, Torre was stuck with the Deli Brigade last night. After Vazquez came Tanyon Sturtze; after Sturtze came Heredia. And lo, Heredia begat Quantrill and Quantrill begat Nitkowski; so too did Nitkowski begat Proctor, also called Scott. By that time the Yankees were pretty well baked, and the usually crafty Quantrillleft in far too long last nighttook the loss by default. This was a good night to be at the ballpark and a good game for the Red Sox to win. Although the Angels and the Rangers, now tied for wildcard runnersup (and nipping at the heels of the Athletics in the AL West), both won their games, we reduced our magic number for clinching a playoff berth to three. Better yet, we have made it impossible for the Yankees to clinch this years AL East flag on ground taxed by the State of Massachusetts. Best of all, at least for the head sitting beneath the bright red YANKEES HATER hat I see in the mirror, is this no matter how we do against our longtime nemesis this Sunday afternoon, in 2004s last regularseason game at Fenway Park, we will have won the nineteengame season series. The worst we can do is 109, and if Father Curt is on his game, it will be 118. This isnt as good as it could have beenespecially for a team that was at one point 61 against the pinstripersbut when it comes to the Yankees, we take our satisfactions where we can get them. 700 P.M. Its by no means a sure thing that the Red Sox and Yankeeswill meet in the ALCS for the second year in a rowI am sure that baseball stat wizards like Bill James will tell you its odds against, given the fact that the opening postseason series are nasty, brutish, and shortbut given the level of competition between the two clubs this season, I have to believe that such an American League Championship Series would be a boon to that larger faithful that loves not just the Red Sox or the Yankees but the game itself. Last weekend at Yankee Stadium, the Sox won a close one Friday night and then endured two shellackings, to the glee of packed Stadium crowds. At the Fens this weekend, it was the Yankees winning a close one Friday night and the Red Sox winning the two weekend games by lopsided scores, todays final being 114, with a woefully unreadyforprimetime Kevin Brown taking the loss (and not escaping the first inning). At Yankee Stadium, the joint resounded to sarcastic choral cries of PEDRO! PEDRO! as Martinez left his game on the mound; today at Fenway Park, the cry was JEETER! JEETER! as the New York shortstop flubbed a potential double play and then made way for a pinch hitter in the eighth after going one for a dozen (.083) over the three games. In the end, Boston took the season, 118, but in the crucial runsscored category, there was in the end almost no difference 106 for the Sox, 104 for the Yanks. When you think about 171 innings of baseball (excluding games that may have gone beyond the regulation nine), thats an amazingly small margin; hardly more than a coat of paint. In terms of playing into October, the teams job is now clearcut (if slightly complicated by Jeanne, the fourth hurricane to strike Florida in the last five weeks). Of the seven games remaining on the regularseason schedule, the Red Sox need to win only a pair to assure themselves of a postseason berth. Another (and more meaningful) meeting with the Yankees may or may not lie ahead; in the meantime, let Trot Nixon, Bostons rejuvenated right fielder, have the final word on this exhaustive (and exhausting) regularseason slate of Red SoxYankees matchups. Nineteen is too many, he said flatly in a postgame interview this afternoon. Weve seen everything theyve got, and theyve seen what weve got. I dont mind playing thembut nineteen is just too many. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome once again to Super Pro Wrestling! For no other reason than he doesnt like the way Doug Mientkiewicz is standing on the bag at first (or might it have something to do with Loftons mysterious ejection during the TekARod brawl?), Kenny Lofton deliberately elbows him as he goes byon a play that isnt close, in a game thats a runaway. Maybe Kennys frustrated, or just dumb, because he seems surprisednay, outragedwhen reliever Pedro Astacio throws behind him late in the game. The next inning, the Yanks kid reliever throws at Dave Robertss head. Uncool, and Roberts is justifiably pissed. Theres a huge difference between throwing behind a guy and throwing at his head, and everyone in the game knows it. Likewise, if you purposely elbow someone, you had better expect to be thrown at. In both cases, the Yankees broke the unwritten code. If theres any justice (and wrestling is all about poetic justice), the game will make them pay. Side note Todays sellout was our 81st of the year. Only three other clubs in the history of baseball have sold out their entire home season. All three were playing in brandnew stadiums. September 27th Hurricane Jeanne has knocked out the electricity in the Tampa Bay area, and for a while it looks as if the game may not be played. The juice is restored, but someone seems to have neglected to tell the Boston bats. Or maybe its just young Scott Kazmir, exerting the sort of limited but malign influence certain pitchers seem able to cast over certain teams. When Kazmir faced Martinez two weeks ago, youll recall, he won easily. He seems well on his way to a second win tonight, striking out batter after batter (Kevin Millar on egregiously high cheese), so when my youngest sonup on a wonderful extended visit from New Yorksuggests we turn off the game and go to a movie, I agree at once, even though the Sox technically have a chance to clinch a playoff berth. I now believe they will clinch; I just dont believe it will be tonight. The code is absolute, and beyond partisanship. Tonight Bronson Arroyo hits Aubrey Huff unintentionally with a curve that breaks down and in too sharply. No big deal, even though it puts Huff out of the game with a bruised shin, but then, a batter later, with men on second and third and first base open, Bronson drills Tino Martinez in the back, and Tino rightfully has some things to say. Former Mets phenom Scott Kazmir, who has yet to give up a hit, retaliates, hitting Manny low. And Mannys cool, Manny understands, and hoofs it down to first without a word. Now that things are evened up, the ump warns both dugouts. Any more of this and both the pitcher and the manager are going. But Kazmirmaybe on Lou Piniellas ordersisnt done. He hits the very next batter, Millar, in the ribs. Millar takes exception and the benches clear briefly. Goodbye, unhittable Kazmir. Goodbye, Lou. Its a foolish move. We jump all over reliever Jorge Sosa for five runs, including a drive to dead center by Manny that lands on the roof of the fancy restaurant out there, and go on to win 73 and clinch the wild card. See? Thats what happens when you go against the code. And, ironically, since being on the same team overrides the code, during the lockerroom celebration Manny hugs Terry Adams, who he came close to charging back in April after a little chin music. Its the late show of The Forgotten we go to, and in Bethel Station on a Monday night, my son and I are two of just six attendees. As were leaving, the guy cleaning up behind the candy counter tells mecasuallythat the Red Sox were leading Tampa Bay by a score of 72 and he thinks that might be a final. Owen and I look at each other in delighted amazement, then hurry to his car and tune the radio to WOXO, NorwaySouth Paris (which advertises itself as Everybodys Countrywhen, that is, theyre not broadcasting NASCAR racing, Boston Red Sox baseball, or Oxford Hills High School football). We discover that the game has indeed ended, and that the final score was 73. Bronson Arroyo hit a couple of batters (he leads the American League in that category), and Scott Kazmir retaliated. The umpires let him get away with drilling Manny Ramirez in the knee, but when Kazmir whacked Kevin I Brake for High Cheese Millar in the ribs, the kid was gone, taking an incipient nohitter with him.Three or four home runs later (Manny hit number 43), the 2004 Red SoxParty Boys are in a clubhouse so wrapped in plastic it looks like a condom, laughing and shouting and pouring beer on each other. They all acknowledge that the regular season isnt over as long as catching the Yankees remains a technical possibility (by winning, the Red Sox cut the lead of the idle Yanks to three games, and in that light the two we lost to the awful El Birdos during the last home stand look bigger than ever), but in their raucous celebrating, there is an undeniable sense that they feel the real work is now done. Given their lackluster level of play in June and July, that is understandable. In some ways, they are lucky to be here at all. SO The Sox are sudsing Manny with champagne. Im toasting them with ginger ale. Ive got a bottle of bubbly downstairs, but Im saving it for something bigger. Still, to make the playoffs with the injuries weve had, Im proud of this club. They gave us a great summer. (The punch line now for a great fall.) Looks like Minnesota and the great Santana. Id match him up with Schilling, just go after him. Too bad those games will be on the road. SK Mathematically, it was the weirdest clinch ever. [What Steve means is that we didnt whittle our magic number down to zero. Were still at 1, but because our competition for the wild card is Anaheim, that 1 assumes they win the rest of their games, three of which are against Oakland, who theyre only one game behind now, and if they do that, they win the West and Oakland becomes our alreadydefeated competition. So our wish from a few months ago has come true the As and Angels knock each other off without even playing the games. Thank you, unbalanced schedule (and unbalanced schedulemakers).] SO The rest of our games are most likely meaningless, butits like Jim Carrey says in Dumb  Dumber when Lauren Holly tells him the odds of them being together are more like a million to one So youre telling me theres a chance. Start carving your playoff roster, were going to the show! September 28th Tonights game against Tampa Bay is an audition for pitchers on the bubble. Derek Lowe pitches dreadfully, scuttling his chance to be the number three starter in the playoffs (Bronson Arroyo seems to have won that spot with his strong second half). Terry Adams throws twoplus ugly innings, so count him out. By the time Alan Embree comes in to throw one shutout inning, its 88. Scott Williamson, whos been injured, walks one guy in his stint, but his velocity is still down around 89, so I doubt hell make the roster. Pedro Astacios just getting some work in before he starts half of Saturdays doubleheader in Baltimore. Ramiro Mendoza, though, nails his assignment, pitching a perfect ninth and tenth, striking out two and giving us a chance to win it when Kevin Millar cranks a tworun shot off fireballing closer Danys Baez, who Lou has left out there throwing 96 (and then 94, 93, 92) for three innings. Foulke crafts a onetwothree eleventh and were two and a half back of the Yanks with five to go. Much more exciting is the West, where the Angels and As are now in a dead heat with a threegame showdown looming on the seasons final weekend, the results of which will determine the playoff matchups. Right now the Central champs the Twins have a better record (by a mere one win) than Oakland and Anaheim, meaning theyd play us and have homefield advantage, and the Yankees would host whoever won the West (an easier task, given the Twins brilliant lefty Johan Santana). The Yanks have some control over the situation tomorrow they start a threegame series against the Twins. They can avoid Santana by rolling over for them, but thats a risk if they lose too many, we have a shot at catching them. Slim, sure, but a shot. September 29th SK Today is a big day. If we win and Minnesota sweeps It could happen. One chance in four. Meet me at Foxwoods. SO I know, Im thinking the same way, but I read in the paper this morning that Francona and Wallace have decided not to change the playoff rotation to go after the division (that is, theyll still throw Astacio versus the Os in that doubleheader). The Coma himself At the chance of sounding like I dont care, because I do, Im sort of going to be stubborn about screwing our pitching up. I love the idea of having homefield advantage. I also think that you win with pitching. Were going to somewhat try to remember that. And as things shape up, it appears Pedros slated for Game 1 (and therefore Game 5) and Schill for Game 2 (and thus Game 1 of the ALCS). So forget that dream matchup of SchillingSantana. I guess Terry thinks we can split with Santana and take Schills start, or maybe hes hoping well outslug them at home for our 3 and 4? Call me the tumbalin dieeiice. SK I guess Terry thinksYoure giving him too much credit. Your news is unbelievable. The scenario you describe is idiotic. All I can hope is that Francona will change his mind and see reason if Minnesota sweeps New York (they lead in the first game, 31, in the middle innings) and we beat Tampa Bay again. Given the last couple of weeks, his plan to start Pedro in Game 1 is also foolish. His inexperience is showing. Not to mention a certain ocher tinge running up the center of his back. Im disgustipated, to quote Sylvester the Cat. Could these be orders from Above?SighProbably not. SO Since were two and a half back with five to go, I can almost understand the thinking. Almost. Last year we could have run the table if wed had home advantage. And did you see whos sitting behind home plate at Yankee Stadium right now, scouting both the Yanks and Twins for the Cubbies? Thats right Mr. Grady Little. Im back in Maine rather than at Fenway Park or at Yankee Stadium, where a sparse crowd is watching the rare afternoon game, but Im once more wearing my bright red YANKEES HATER cap, and for a perfectly good reason the sparse Stadium crowd is in attendance at the first of this years last three really important games, two between theTwins and the Yankees, one between the hapless Devil Rays and the Red Sox. The Minnesota Twins, represented on the mound in the first of these crucial tilts by Johan Santana, who will almost certainly win this years Cy Young Award in the American League, are leading 31 in the fifth inning. If the Twins go on to win this game (Santana hasnt lost since the AllStar break) plus the nightcap of this hurricaneinduced doubleheader, and if the Red Sox can win tonight in Tampa,the Yankees lead in the AL East would drop to a single scrawny game. Im not saying this will happen, but if it did, considering the fact that Boston and New York have a combined total of eight games left to playwell, in a case like that, all bets would be off. Maybe it doesnt matter. Probably it doesnt matter, in terms of what comes next; once you get to postseason, all the matchups are tough. But I want that homefield advantage. Even more, Id like to see the Yankees humbled. So come on, you Twins! Go, you Johan! Its weird here we have the Yanks ace Moose against Johan Santana in a rematch of last years ALDS, in a game with playoff implications, yet when I tune in during the second inning I discover the Stadium is a sea of blue seats. There cant be more than two thousand people thereless than the number of folks who turn out for BP at Fenway. Later, the Yankees will list the official attendance as NAnot available. Hey George, I hear Montreals looking for a team. 1015 P.M. One doesnt like to believe God is a Yankees fanits a terrifying ideabut days like this make me wonder. I thought that, with New York playing two against a strong Minnesota team and the Red Sox playing one against the hapless Rays, we really had a chance to pull within a breath of first place. At worst, I thought, New York would split their twin bill with Santana taking the opener. But no. Santana left after five with a 31 lead, pulled by the Twins skipper, who quite naturally wants to protect his young ace with the playoffs looming. The Yankees then scored a bazillion runs and the cameracaught the aforementioned young ace in the dugout, hucking helmets at the cement floor. Getting quite a bounce, too. The Yankees went on to win the second game, 54. In Tampa, Tino Martinez hit a threerun bomb to put the game out of reach in the eighth, but the really disturbing development was how mortal Pedro Martinez looked in his last start of the regular seasonhow downright lousy. The hapless DRays won that one, 94, and instead of picking up a game and a half, we lost a game and a half. The Yankees margin is now four games, and given that the Red Sox have just four to play, I think that pretty well cooks us in the AL East, dont you? The bottom line is simply that when the pressure got really intense, the Yankees refused to buckle. The Red Soxaided by the Baltimore Orioles and at times by Terry Francona, who has a tendency to freeze at critical moments like Captain Queeg in The Caine Mutinydid. Now we turn our eyesever hopeful, ever faithfulto the playoffs, where we can only hope the script will change. SK Santana comes out of the game, the Yanks score four and win. And I saw Santana in the dugout, heaving helmets. It aint nothing to Gardenhire; hes got a lock. If we finish second, I have no problem with Titos doubleheader pitching roster. But whats with this playoff sked? Are we conceding the games Santana pitches, or what? Saving Curt for winnable games? Give me your thinking on this. What am I not seeing here? SO I thought the Yanks might tank it to make sure wed get the Twins, but now it appears the Twins tanked it, pulling Santana after five. The playoffs dont start for another six days, so its not like a starter should be on a pitch count around 70. Boo! I have no idea whats up with T Francs playoff rotation. It sounds like hes going with a fourman squad, meaning Curt will start only Game 2 of the ALDS. I guess hes assuming thats a W, and hell have his 3 and 4 guys set for Games 3 and 4 at Fenway. If the 3 and 4 guys and the home bats cant get it done, then hes hopingsomeday, some wayfor a split between Pedro and Santana. Problem is, Arroyo, who should be our 3, has thrown far better on the road, and at this point we dont have a reliable 4. I think its cavalier of Francona to assume we dont need two from Father Curt in the first round. Sure, it would be nice to start the ALCS with a fresh ace, but theres not much margin for error in this plan. Minnesotas a good team thats been there before. September 30th SO So was the Comas initial rotation just smoke? Because now Pedros saying hes starting Game 2 and Schills taking Games 1 and 5. And the Angels, now leading the West by one, have the exact same record as the Twins. I have to wonder, is the switch due to the possibility of missing Santana? Its all up in the air for now, and probably will be until the outcome of that juicy AngelsatAs series this weekend. SK I dont know about the rotation. All I know for sure is that Im considering a petition to the Great High Ayatollah, suggesting a fatwa on the Yankees would be a good idea. October 1st As a Red Sox fan, I am of course aware that there is another baseball league, but my grasp of it is vague, like a Europeans grasp of the New World in the seventeenth century or an Americans grasp of the solar system in the nineteenth. Yes, somewhere in the American Midwest there lives a fearsome wandwielding wizard named Pujols, and I know that in California there be Giants, for my Red Sox did truly visit them once in the season which is now almost over. But like most Red Sox fans, my focus will remain fiercely fixed on what is sometimes called the junior circuit untiland ifwe have to play one of those quasimythological Others in the World Series. And thats okay, because in this final weekend of regularseasonbaseball, I find plenty to occupy me within the familiar geography of the American League. Three of the four AL postseason teams have now been decided the Yankees (AL East champs), the Twins (AL Central champs) and the Red Sox (AL wild card). The winner in the AL West will be decided this weekend, in Oakland, when the As and Angels, with identical 9069 records, go headtohead. It will be, in effect, a miniplayoff, one the Red Sox and their fans will be watching with great interest. Well play the team out of our division with the best record, but as I write this on Friday afternoon, Minnesotas record is also 9069. That means we could wind up facing any one of those three. All I know for sure is that Im hoping Cleveland will put a hurtin on Minnesota this weekend, because we have to start by playing two away games no matter who our opponent is. Given that, I would prefer to steer clear of the Metrodome as long as possible. Not to mention young Mr. Santana. The Sox had last night off, ceding center stage (at least here in the East) to the Yankees, who clinched the division with their 100th win (so thats what16 against Tampa, 15 against Baltimore, 14 against Toronto), beating the Twins secondline relievers late after Ron Gardenhire pulled starter Brad Radke in the fifth. By resting, in effect the Twins rolled over this whole series, handing the Yanks the sweep. With the Angels losing and the As winning, the West is knotted again, and the Twins, Angels and As all share the same record. Because the Angels and As play each other this weekend, the winner of the West will have at least 92 wins. The Twins lost their season series with both clubs, so to face the Sox they have to sweep their last three. I have to wonder By losing this series, are the Twins purposely shooting for a rematch with the Yanks? October 2nd Last night the Angels humbled the As 100 at home, and today they come back late against setup guy Ricardo Rincon and new closer Octavio Dotel to win the West. Chokeland has done it again. Billy Beane, you are not a genius. With no defense, no smallball and no pen, and ace Mark Mulder denying an obvious hip problem, the As went into a Septemberlongs woon that their fans will taste for the entire offseason. The Angels, missing Adam Kennedy with a knee injury, and suspending Jose Guillen for throwing his helmet and dissing manager Mike Scioscia, overcame everything to beat their rivals at the wire. The Cubs, who had a twogame lead in the NL wild card a week ago, eliminate themselves by losing their sixth in seven games (including three blown saves by highpriced freeagent closer LaTroy Hawkins and crucial home losses to cellar dwellers the Mets and the Reds). On the home front, the Sox sweep a meaningless doubleheader from the Ossomething we could never do when the games really counted. Mr. Kim picks up a garbage win. Ellis Burks plays in his 2,000th and most likely last game, adding a single to his career stats. Afterward, Terry Francona announces that Arroyo and Wake will start in the playoffs and that Lowe wont. Lowe leaves the clubhouse without a comment, and in the postgame, Eck says, Will Derek Lowe be back next year? Who cares? And we still dont know who were playing in the division series. I continue to believe that it was our play against Baltimoreidentified in my game notes from July on as the LEBsthat cost us the AL East. Now that that little matter has been decided, were doing all right against the LEBs, having already guaranteed ourselves at least a split in the seasons final, meaningless fourgame series (please note that they has once again become we, and will now likely stay that way, for better or worse, until the season ends). On the West Coast, the Athletics have suddenlyand rather shockinglycome unglued. Anaheim beat them last night, 100, and came from behind to beat them again today, 54. So the Angels win the West, and all the AL postseason teams are now decided. The only remaining question is who the Red Sox will draw in the first roundthe Angels or the Twins. Todays game between Minnesota and Cleveland would have settled that issue if Cleveland had won, but the game was suspended in the eleventh with the score tied, 55, so the groundskeepers could prepare the field for a University of Minnesota football game. Say what? SK Regular seasons most surreal touch MinnesotaCleveland game, which would have nailed down the final playoff locale, suspended for a college football game. Beautiful. SO Go Golden Gophers! Shades of last years AllStar Game. Imagine if you were in the crowd at the Metrodome. Come back tomorrow? Hell no. October 3rd Its the last day of the regular season, and in the majors, the last few games are being played out by the subs, scrubs, andin a few casesthe stars of tomorrow.


In Chicago, disconsolate Cubs fans are telling each otherwithout much real hopethat next season may be better (on the South Side, the ChiSox fans gave up on this season long ago). In Tampa, Lou Piniella has packed away his horrible snotgreen pullover for another season and bid his hapless Devil Rays adieu. In Baltimore, the baseball writers have already begun beating the MVP tomtom on behalf of Miguel Tejada, but given what Gary Sheffields done for the Yankees and what Manny Ramirez has done for the Red Sox, I dont give them much of a chance. In Texas, the plotting has already begun to turn this years AL West dark horse into next years favorite. In Oakland, wunderkind Billy Beane may, like Lucy Arnaz, have some splainin to do. In Toronto, the wunderkind disciples of Billy Beane have probably left their offices for the year only after dropping their cell phones into their shredders. And in Minnesota, the last playoff question was answered late this afternoon, when the Indians came up with two insurance runs in the top of the ninth and beat the Twins, 52. Thus its Minnesota opening against New York on the East Coast and Boston opening against Anaheim on the West,both the day after tomorrow. Ill be at Fenway for the third game of the SoxAngels series, and for the fourth, if needed (it probably will be). My heart beats a little faster, just writing that. At this point everything gets magnified, because when the second season ends, it does so either with shocking suddenness orcould it be?with the sort of success of which Red Sox fans hardly dare dream. The Twins win the resumption of their suspended game, but then lose to the Indians, making the last AngelsAs game meaningless (though no less painful to those As fans who bothered to show up). We lose our last game to the Os (McCarty throws two scoreless, striking out three) and finish 9864, our best record since 1978. Manny wins the home run and slugging crowns, Schilling has the best wonloss, though it appears the MVP will now go to Vladimir Guerrero for his big September, while Santana should take the Cy Young. Ichiro breaks George Sislers alltime record for hits in a season, but, coming for a lastplace club, and most of them being singles, it doesnt wow serious fans; hes just the new Rod Carew. And the Astros win their final game, snatching the NL wild card from Barry Bonds and the Giants. Its still possible well see Roger Clemens in the World Series. SO So weve got Anaheim, and the Twins get their wish. I really think they orchestrated the last week (tanking all three to the Yanks, losing to Cleveland today) to get a rematch with the Yanks in the short series, figuring its easier to get them here than in the ALCS. Gardenhires no dummy. October 4th SK If we can get past the Angels, I think the world (series) may be ours. SO Im having the same grandiose, bubblesintheblood thoughts, and rightfully its a whole new season. Hope springs eternal. So whos going to be left off the playoff roster? Its like spring trainingall these guys vying for the very last spots. For the pitchers, Id take Mendoza over Leskanic, Williamson and Adams; hes been more consistent, Leskanic can get wild, Williamsons not 100 and Adams stinks. And who gets the nod for the last position player, McCarty or Mientkiewicz? Im for McCarty more pop, just as good a glove, and hes got the arm to play the outfield in a pinch. I think weve got to keep Kapler, Roberts and Pokey for D and speed, and Youk for a stick off the bench, but management might surprise me. As a Rock Cats fan, I want to believe in the Twins. I like that theyre going right after them, but if the Yanks can beat Santana just once (or closer Joe Nathan in one of those starts), theyre cooked. My hope is they split in the Stadium, then turn on that Metrodome jetstream airconditioning and let thermodynamics do the rest. SK Im for Mientkiewicz, mostly because Ive finally learned how to spell his name (actually because hes just gotten hot at the plate). I like Curtis The Mechanic because I think hes clutch and I dont think Mendoza isand in the end, in the pen, its gonna come down to the tragickal Mr. Lowe. I hope we dont have to depend on him too much! The guy I really want to see on that rosterbut may notis the Greek God of Walks. SO Yup, as in last years division series, our fate may rest in the shaky hands of Mr. Lowe. But thats the playoffs maximum stress finding the weakest link. In this case, first and second place in the wildcard standings. And to Jerry the Detroit Tigers are always the Tigizz. A technical baseball term. Fever Pitch, based on a nonfiction book by Nick Hornby, describes a romantic triangle in which a young man must choose between his girl and his baseball team. He loves both madly, deeply, truly. That the baseball team turns out to be the Red Sox should come as no surprise. As pointed out elsewhere in these pages, the Red Sox is the team of choice for romantics. Can you imagine a poet writing an ode to the Yankees? As for lovers and the Yankeesgood God, you might as well plight your troth in the lobby of the Marine Midland Bank as at Yankee Stadium, that symbol of baseball commerce. No, when it comes to romance and baseball, you pretty much have to have Fenway Park. Wrigley Field has its ivied outfield wall and a certain rusty exterior charm, but I think Fenway remains Americas true Field of Dreams. With this one utterly unforgivable exception dont ever let me hear of an official (or a player) who takes money to tip a game in which millions have invested their hopes and the energy of their collective imagination. The once more hapless Devil Rays, and please God may they (or the troublesome El BirdOs) not poke a stick in our spokes as we race down this seasons home stretch. That could change if Oakland loses its hold on first place in Outer Weird Pacifica, but even if the As do drop to second, our position visvis the wild card wont change much. For the record, I think Oakland will hold on and win the West. Unlike, let us say, the supposed Campbells Chunky Soup Curse, where I can only find four football playersTerrell Davis, Kurt Warner, Jerome Bettis and Donovan McNabbwho actually suffered injuries after appearing in the ads, despite all the rumors. Nine is the number that comes to mind, but you know what Ole Case said You could look it up. I am allowed to say stuff like this, because according to John Cheever, the belles lettres version of Ole Case, all literary men must be Red Sox fans. My reputation as a literary man is actually in some dispute, but I am a man, a Red Sox fan and a writer, sofuggit. I think Norman Mailer said that, in The Naked and the Dead. Tanyon Sturtze, for instance, lately miserable in middle relief for the Yankees (he went twothirds of an inning in his last appearance), was utterly brilliant last night. That would be roughly seventyfive hundred, most of them equipped with Yankee hats, Derek Jeter Tshirts, and upturned middle fingers for people wearing Red Sox gear. Sorry, Blue, but that slomo replay has no mercy. Ah, but under the circumstances, the always crafty Joe Torre really had little choice; by then it was a fools mate. Three out of five rather than four out of seven. The Indians at Jacobs Field, the Rockies at Coors, and the Giants at Pac Bell. For the record, I think that hitting Millar was an accident. But, accident or on purpose, Kazmir did the Boston batters one hell of a favor by dealing himself out. It would be their fifth win in a row. Loathsome El Birdos. NAHits just a common sports malady choking disease. SK The ALDS Somebody Gotta Pay October 5thALDS Game 1 Twenty minutes before game time, the Sox announce their ALDS roster. Youk, Mientkiewicz and Leskanic made the squad. Mendoza and McCarty didnt. I try to take a nap before the 409 EDT start of the first Division Series game out in Anaheim and cant do it. Im not really surprised. Too many butterflies. That may sound stupid, but Id argue theres nothing stupid about it at all. The hell of spectatinga thing Ive had to rediscover during several Octobers (although never enough)is that when it comes to baseball, spectating is all I can do. The script is out of my hands. Instead of a nap I settle for a brisk walk. Ive got a bad hip as a result of an accident, but I ignore its protests of this unwonted lateafternoon exercise. My youngest son rescues me before it can really start to bellow, picking me up in his Jetta and taking me back to the house, where we settle with sodas, pizza, cookies and a homemade scorecard. Owen also has a crossword puzzle in which he tries (with varying degrees of success) to bury himself, admitting he can barely bring himself to watch the Angels bat, especially after the Red Sox secure a slim onerun lead on a suspect Manny Ramirez double (an E5 Figgins on my pizzabesmirched scorecard) followed by a scratch David Ortiz single. As it turned out, Owen and I didnt have to worry,although the game remained close until the top of the fourth, and twice in the early going the Angels jockeyed the tying run into scoring position. Then, in the aforementioned fourth inning, Boston staged one of those multirun outbursts that characterized so many of their wins in August and September.Ortiz walked; Millar hit him home with a moonshot to left; Varitek singled; Orlando I Know Every Team Handshake in the Universe Cabrera walked; after Bill Mueller struck out, Gabe Kapler hit a single to short left field. Bases juiced, one out, Johnny Damon at the plate. And heres your play of the game, brought to you by Charles Scribners, the publisher that made New York famous. Johnny Damon, who hits Angels starter Jarrod Washburn about as well as toads do algebra, directs a seemingly harmless ground ball to Chone Figgins, a utility fielder today playing third for the Halos. Figgins doublepumps, then throws the ball to a location somewhere between home plate and the guy selling Sports Bars in the box seats to the left of the Angels dugout. Varitek and Cabrera score. One batter later, Manny Ramirez goes pega luna for the first time in the Series (but not, one hopes, for the last). Its great, but by then the game is essentially over. Father Curt was far from his best today, but the Angelspretty much stuck with Washburn as a result of having clinched on the secondtolast day of the seasonwere not able to steal Game 1, as Im sure they hoped to. The question, I think, is whether they are now blown out from their gallop to the divisional title, or if they will bounce back with Bartolo (as in Colon) tomorrow night. My son says theyll bounce. If theyre going to, they had better get to Pedro fast or hope Terry Francona repeats the past and leaves him in too long. If neither of those things happen, thento quote my collaborator, Mr. ONanthe Anaheim Angels are very likely going to be gone like Enron, toast on the coast. SO So were guaranteed the split. And if Petey takes care of business, we could be sitting pretty. Whens the last time you saw the Sox squeeze in a run? Nice timing by Mientkiewicz (though McCarty, with his wingspan, might snag that errant toss by Mr. Schill). Is Curts ankle okay? When he grabbed for it after that play, I thought, Oh man, theres our season. SK Schilling will bull through. Hes the kind of guy whos gonna think, I got all winter to heal this ankle up. And nowwith any luckwe wont need him until the ALCS. I knocked wood when I said it, and the Twins are just three outs away. Accourse against the Yankees that means nada. SO Thats a final Twins 20 over the Yanks. Looks like the Santana gambits workingso far. SK Hopefully the trend of the last few years, where the eventual winners lose the first (or first and second) game, will be reversed. God knows its time for a statistical correction in that matter. SO I hear the Yanks will start Kevin Brown in Game 3. So they had better win tomorrow night. October 6th They do, though its as fishy as Jonahs old clothesto my nose. The Twins are leading by one in the bottom of the twelfth with one out and closer Joe Nathan toiling through his unheardof third inning of work. Nathan throws ten straight balls to put men on first and second, then grooves one to ARod. Its hit deep to the leftcenter gap, and the whole Yankee dugout leaps upexcept ARods missed it, and the ball barely makes the track (so why leap up when youve seen hundreds of flies to the track there and never moved an inch before?). Left fielder Shannon Stewart, playing back so nothing can get through, should have a bead on it but is uncharacteristically slow getting over and then doesnt even make an attempt. It hits the track, and should win the game anyway, but bounces over the wall for a ground rule double, meaning the trail runner, Jeter, has to go back to third. So with a tie game and one out, Matsui steps in. Hes not patient, and ends up hitting a soft liner to right. Jacque Jones is playing in to cut down the run at the plate, and right field in Yankee Stadium is the smallest in all of baseball. Jones, with a decent if not spectacular arm, should have an excellent shot at getting Jeter. Its a situation an outfielder dreams of theres no other play, no contingency. It cant be more than 180 feet, and hes got time to make sure he gets it there in the air so his catcher doesnt have to deal with a hop. As long as hes not way offline to the firstbase side, he should have Jeter by five steps, easy. Instead, he flips the ball flatfooted to first baseman Matthew LeCroy, who relays it, late, and the Yankees win. ESPNs commentators make no comment on this, which is just as bizarre. So the Yankees split. SO Man, I could have thrown out Jeter from there. What the hell was Jacque Jones thinking? Fix! Fix! SK Say it aint so, Stew! Next youll be telling me Jacque Jones was on the grassy knoll. October 7th The stuff between my ears feels more like peanut butter than brains this morning, and with good reason; the Red SoxAngels contest that started last night at 10 P.M. East Coast time didnt go final until five to two in the morning. Thats just shy of a fourhour baseball game. A nineinning baseball game. Part of the reason is national TV coveragethe breaks between halfinnings are longer to allow for a few more of those allimportant beer commercialsbut in truth that isnt the largest part. Ill bet you could count the number of postseason games under three hours during the last seven years on the fingers of your hands, not because of the extra ads but because the style of baseball changes radically once the regular season is over. It becomes more about the pitching, because most managers believe the aphorism which states that in seven games out of every ten, good pitching will beat good hitting.Games about the pitching become games about the defense. And games about defense and pitching in the field often become, for the offense, games about what is now called by the needlessly deprecating name of smallball. Few twentyfirst century baseball teams are good at smallball, and their efforts to bunt the runner over are often painful to watch (although Doug Mientkiewicz of the Soxput down a beauty in Game 1, and it resulted in a run), but smallball certainly does burn up the hours. I bet they sold a sea of beer in Anaheim last night, and the hopeful fans had plenty of time to twirl their Rally Monkeys and beat their annoying Thunder Sticks, but in the end neither the monkeys or the sticks did any good. The Angels must now come to our park down 02, and their fans have only this consolation for them, the game was over before 11 P.M., and they wont have to spend much of this lovely fall day feeling like what Ed Sanders of the Fugs so memorably called homemade shit. Pedro Martinez got the win in last nightsthis mornings game, leaving with a 43 lead after seven innings, mostly thanks to a tworun Jason Varitek dinger and a scratch run provided by Johnny Damon. The invaluable Damon stole second after reaching on a fielders choice, took third when loser Francisco KRod Rodriguez (who bears a weird resemblance to movielands Napoleon Dynamite) uncorked a wild pitch, then scored on a Manny Ramirez sac fly. It turned out to be the winning run, because a relay of Boston relieversTimlin to Myers, Myers to Foulkewere lightsout. My reward for staying up long past my usual bedtime was watching Orlando Cabrera make the Angels pay for disrespecting him. With two on and two out in the top of the ninth, Brendan Donnelly, the final Angels pitcher of the night, walked Jason Varitek, loading the bases in order to get to Cabrera, who came to the Red Sox touted not only as a Gold Glove but as a doubles machine. He cranked one of those to leftcenter in the wee hours of the morning, taking third on a throw home that didnt come close to nailing Varitek. And essentially, that was your ball game. Foulke ended it by striking out Curtis Pride approximately one hour after the Yankees came up off the mat to put Minnesota away in the twelfth, and now the Red Sox come back to Fenway, hoping to hear Dirty Water tomorrow night. And finally, from our Department of the Late Night Surreal, we have Angels manager Mike Scioscia, on the umpiring in last nights game (by Jerry I Aint Missed Many Meals) I think as far as the strike zone, you know, if you are a good team, if you are a good team, you, is that my throat or is it a thing, I know I am hoarse, but you know, when you go through aif you are ateam and you are a good team, then you absorb things like maybe a break bad, a line drive and doesnt fall in or an umpire strike zone. Thus spake Zarathustra. SO You said exactly what Im feeling today. Im getting too old to be staying up that late. Lets hope thats the last time well have to (barring a Dodger resurgence, which Id accept). October 8th Its a brilliant day and the leaves are turning along the Mass Pike, a New England idyll worthy of a coffeetable book. It doesnt hurt that were up two games to none and Ive got tickets to Game 3. It would be our first playoff clincher at home since 86 against these same Angels, and our first sweep since taking the As in the 75 ALCS. Both years are good omens, and the fact that we have Bronson Arroyo going is even more comforting. In his last nine starts were 90. In Kenmore Square, the Globe comes with a GO SOX poster and red and blue Mardi Gras beads. On Lansdowne, Puma is handing out posters of Johnny sitting on the ground by home plate, flashing a smile and a peace sign. Back at the players lot, the mood is loose and goofy. Manny shows up in a Michael Vick jersey, which we give him grief for, and then El Jefe arrives in his badass Cadillac roadster with the retractable roof (El Monstro is its name) and is wearingincrediblya Tennessee Titans cap. Lets go Pats! we holler. In BP, David usually spoons the first few pitches down the line in left before pulling a bunch of rainbows over the bullpens or hooking them around the Pesky Pole. Today he keeps working on going the other way, poking shots to the hole between third and short, dropping doubles into the garagedoor corner. The scouting report must say the Angels will try to work him away, the same way weve worked Guerrero. As closer Troy Percival saunters out to warm up, I say we havent seen much of him. I know, he says. I wish I was in there. You guys are a better team than youve shown the first two games, but much respect for beating Oakland. Maybe well see you tonight, huh? I hope so, he says. A nice guy, and Im also thinking ahead to the offseason, when he becomes a free agent. His 96 mph cheese would be a nice complement to Foulkies 74 mph change. Our scalped seats are in back of the Sox bullpen, giving me and Caitlin a prime view of Bronson warming up. Dave Wallace stands behind him, clicking off each pitch on a handheld counter. Bronson works from the windup, with that high leg kick. He throws his two pitches, his fastball and his curve, until sweats dripping off his chin. He stops and towels off, then works from the stretch, popping Teks glove. Hes still throwing when the Dropkick Murphys take the portable stage right behind him to play the anthem. When they finish and start in on their Red Sox anthem, Tessie, he takes a couple more, and thats it, hes ready. And he is. Hes got the curve working, and the umps giving him a nice wide zone. We pick up some runs early, then some more. The only mistake Bronson makes is trying to sneak a fastball by Troy Glaus, who sticks it on the Monster, but by then were up 51, 61. Its a party. And then, in the seventh, Bronson walks the leadoff guy. Myers relieves and walks the only guy he faces. Timlin comes in and gives up a single to Eckstein, then with bases loaded nibbles at Darin Erstad and ends up walking in a run, bringing upVladimir Guerrero. In batting practice, Guerrero hits the ball so hard that everybody stops to watch him. Today before the game, he blasted one high off the Volvo sign on the Monster, hitting the very top so that the steel beam behind it chimed like a bell and the ball ricocheted back past the outfielders shagging flies in leftcenter. Timlin nibbled at Erstad. Now on 01 he throws Guerrero a fastball up in the zone, and Vladi jumps on it, driving the ball toward rightcenter. It arcs through the darkness above the .406 Club straight for us like a crashing satellite. No doubt about it, its going to make the bullpen easily. Trots angling over, trailing the play. Trots an active Christianhe has a cross hanging from the rearview mirror of his Mini Cooperbut as the ball clears the wall, he loudly mouths God dammit! You can almost hear it except for the overwhelming groan. Grand slam. Its 66. The partys over. Not again. With the shaky Wake going tomorrow, this could be crucial. We dont want to go back to Anaheim. Now comes the nailbiting. Johnny has to flash back to the track in deepest center to make a great leaping catch. Foulke works through basesloaded jams in the eighth and ninth, and then Lowe has to battle with men on first and third in the tenth. Were standing and screaming with every pitch, hoping, wishing. KRod is on for the Angels, with Troy Percival warming. This is their one great strength. With apologies to Eric Gagne and Darren Dreifort of the Dodgers, Anaheims the only team in the majors with two bona fide closers. It looks like its going to be a long night. The Red Sox won 86 in ten, and this series is over. The Angels are done for the season, and the 2004 baseball version of Woodstock Nation is going to play for the American League pennant. Is it great? Yes. Is it wonderful? You bet. Is it pretty suhveet, as William H. Macys car salesman character in Fargo was wont to say? That is such a big tenfour. There are all sorts of reasons why this sweep feels so good. Being able to rest Schilling and Martinez, the big pitching arms, is only a strategic reason, valid but cold. The fact that the Red Sox hadnt clinched any postseason series in their home park since 1986 (when they beat these same Angels and then went on to play the Mets) is warmer, a soothing of the psyche. For me, the emotional payoff is that, although I wasnt able to bring my motheran ardent Red Sox fan who died in 1974I was able to bring my motherinlaw, who is now eightyone and not in the best of health. A Red Sox Customer Service rep met us at Gate D with a wheelchair and escorted usalong with Sarah Janes oxygen bottle and a backupto our seats, just to the left of the Red Sox dugout and only a row from the field, a perfect location for a lady whos no longer up to much jumping around. I checked her oxy level before the game started, and the dial on top of the tank said threequarters, deep in the green, very cool. She was good to go right through the eighth, but as the game neared the fourhour mark (we have discussed the grinding, defensive nature of postseason baseball games) and extra innings loomed, it seemed wise to switchher over to the spare tank, and she agreed to my suggestion that we leave after the tenth, if the score was still tied. With t he fireballing KRod on the mound, that seemed likely, especially after he got Manny on a called strike three, with Pokey Reese (running for Bellhorn) still languishing on first. Instead of leaving Rodriguez in to face David Ortiz, Scioscia elected to go with Jarrod Washburn, setting up the leftylefty match of which the conventional wisdom so approves. What followed was, quite simply, baseball history. I cant report it here to any readers satisfaction because, although I saw it, my forebrain still doesnt really believe I saw it. Part of this is because Big Papi so rarely hits with power to left; right field is usually his porch. Most of it, though, is simply that the mans swing was so damn quick. The ball seemed to be off his bat and gone into the night before my ears even registered the crack of wood on horsehide. The place went absolutely giddybonkers. Dirty Water was playing, but you could hear nothing but the bass line pumping out of the speakers. The rest was lost in the delirious chant of the crowd, not Papi, Papi but DaVEED! DaVEED! The cops in their riot gear, who came out to protect the sanctity of the field from marauding fans in their YANKEES SUCK Tshirts, tried to hold on to their stern donttreadonme frowns, but most of them couldnt do it for long; they broke into delighted winner grins, smothered them, then had to do the smothering all over again as fresh grins broke out. Best of all, I turned around and saw the woman whos been my mom since my own mom died, hands clasped below her chin, beaming like an eightyoneyearold cherub. I had some doubts about taking her and her oxygen tanks to a potential clinch game with thirtyfive thousand rabid Red Sox fans in attendance (and when I checked that second tank later, I saw that she used as much oxygen in the half an hour following Big Davids home run as she had during the entire previous four hours of the game), but now, an hour later, theres not a doubt in my mind that tonight I did her a mitzvah. And she did me one. And the team did one for both of us and all of Red Sox Nation. Theres more work to do, but tonight there are plenty of mitzvahs to go around. After El Jefes walkoff we hang around, dancing on our seats, singing along with Shout and Joy to the World and Glory Days as the lockerroom celebration plays on the JumboTron. WHY NOT US? Pedros Tshirt reads. Euky Rojas empties the bullpen ballbag, tossing its contents to our suddenly lucky section. Thanks, Euky! Down at the dugout, Ellis Burks does the same. Weve moved to the tarp along the firstbase line to get closer to the celebration. Dave McCarty (not even on the roster!) comes out and sprays us with beer. Gabe The Babe Kapler gives us some skin. Manny and Kevin Millar jog past, slapping hands, and Mike Myers, in a Dominican flag dorag. Johnny sits in the passenger seat of a groundskeepers cart while David Ortiz rides in back, kicking his legs and waving to us as they go all the way around the track to the garage door in left. Its a good hour since the game ended, and there are only a couple hundred of us diehards. Unforgettable. In quiet counterpoint, the Angels, in their street clothes, walk in broken single file across the grass behind short, across right field and out a gate beside their bullpen, headed for the team bus and their hotel, maybe even the airport. We wave to Vladi and David Eckstein, and give them a polite hand. Its true what I told Percival theyre a much better club than they showed in this series, and deserving of much respect. Outside, at the players lot, an even rowdier crowd presses against the barriers to watch the Sox leave. With each car, a new wave of screaming, pushing, a galaxy of cameras flashing. There are riot cops in helmets everywhere, and people literally falling down drunk. Pedro comes out and shoots us Mannys gunslinger fingers, and we go nuts. After he leaves, a man holding a baby on his shoulder shoves by me, then sets the baby down, and the baby stands and walks away. Its a little person with the wizened face of Scatman Crothers in The Shiningits Pedros goodluck buddy Nelson de la Rosa, two feet tall and waddling up Yawkey Way like a hobbit. But the best is Tek. He comes out in his uniform, carrying a plate of food from the postgame spread. Some relatives of his are leaving in an SUV, and he wants to catch them to say a final goodbye. VARitek, VARi tek! we cheer. Security stops them and Jason gives the woman driver (maybe his aunt?) a kiss on the cheek to Jerry Springer cheers (Kiss her! Kiss her!), then pads back towards the clubhouse with his plate, and I think, its just like Little League when wed go to the Dairy Queen, still wearing our cleats. Its the same game. October 9th SO Jefe say Somebody gotta pay. Thats why hes the chief. Im hoarse, my hands are swollen from clapping, and my mitt smells like beer. Im a most happy fella. SK It was a great game. And yes, were getting a shot at redemption, because the Yankees beat the Twins, though beat is maybe too strong a word. In Game 4, down 21, Ron Gardenhire throws Santana on three days rest. With the score 51 Twins after five, he inexplicably pulls Santana, meaninglike in that last regularseason series in the Bronxthe Yanks have four innings to get to the Twins pen. Its totally incoherent, given Gardenhires nowornever strategy. Santanas around 85 pitches and has been sharp, and the Twins pen is thin and tired. Predictably, the Yanks come back against instant goat Juan Rincon and then win in extras, ensuring Major League Baseball and Fox of their greatest ratings ever. Is it a tank job? I sure get a whiff, but who except a Twins (or Rock Cats) fan would complain? Finally weve got our cage match, our Thunderdome. Two teams enter, one team leaves. But of course, as Red Sox fans, we can no more not worryeven with a six or sevenrun leadthan we could not blink if you were suddenly to jab your fingers at our open eyes. For the record, so do II grew up watching Bob Gibson pitch in the World Series, and listening to Sandy Koufax on my transistor radio earphone. Those were the days when the games were still played in the afternoon and pitching the batter high and tight was considered standard operating procedure. Earlier in the season she threatened to write the team a letter saying, You better do it this year, or I cant promise to be around. I dont know if she carried through on that or not. The ALCS Beyond Thunderdome October 10th SK My feeling about having to face the Yankees is extremely conflicted. I heard twenty fat cats (not to mention a very grizzled tolltaker on the N.H. turnpike today) say Ayyy, Stevie! We got the Yankees, just like we wanted! Did we want them? The fan in me sort of wanted Minnesota, especially after Santana had been bent, folded, stapled and mutilated by the patient Yankee hitters. The sibyl in me says the Yankees have been our Daddy and will continue to be our Daddy; that we are the Pequod, they the great white whale. The commercial writer in me says this is just the matchup we need to sell the book; that after this, the World Series would be so much wavy gravy. SO All weve got to do is go 86. Can Mr. Schill, Petey and Byo with the curve working go 86? I dare say they can, with some run support. Will they? Only the baseball tiki gods know for sure. Santana had very little trouble with the Yanks 1 earned run in 12 innings, with 12 Ks. No idea why Gardenhire removed him yesterday after only 85 pitches and still looking fine like cherry wine. The commercial writer in you is right its the matchup MLB needs, and they got it. Its like Hollywoodyou need stars to sell a picture, and, sorry, Jacque Jones and Corey Koskie, but you Rock Cats grads just dont have the wattage (or the superagents).


And if you look closely at our series, there are some wild hairs there too Figginss glove leading to six runs in Game 1; the absolutely horrible plate umpire in Game 2; and the sudden appearance (and disappearance) of Jarrod Washburn to end Game 3, when alltime Angels save leader Troy Percival was rested and ready. Ill hold the league to the same rules I apply to Hollywood its cool as long as its entertaining and believable. So far its been entertaining. The 2004 numbers say we do better against the Yanks than against the Twins (or the Os, Cleveland, Texas), but you cant go by thatjust by himself, Santana warps the curve. Thats how tough he was. One chance in four. One chance in two would be more than wavy gravy. Itd be Destiny. October 11th Its like dj vu all over again. Yogi said thatnot the one from Jellystone National Park, but the one who hung out in New York and swung a productive bat at many bad pitches back in the good old days when men were men and baseball players still smoked Camels.Once more the Red Sox have entered postseason via the wild card. Once more they have faced the West Coast team and beaten them (this time quite a bit more tidily, tis true). Once more it was Mr. Lowemagickal rather than tragickalwho was the Last Pitcher Standing, this time notching the win instead of the save. And once more the Yankees have beaten the Minnesota Twins after spotting them the opening victory. It is our ancient enemynow routinely called the Evil Empire almost everywhere north of Hartfordthat we will have to face, and vanquish, if we are to go to the World Series. I spent most of the weekend in Boston, although this book did not precisely demand it; the BostonAnaheim series was over, and the BostonNew York series wouldnt start for another four days. Mostly what I wanted was to sample the atmosphere, and what I found myself breathing in wasdisturbing, bad for sleep.I would describe it as a kind of nervy bravadothink of all the old gangster movies youve seen where the badguy hero is driven into a final blind alley, draws both automatics from the waistband of his gabardine pants, and then screams, Come and get me coppers! But Im gonna take a buncha youse wit me! Doormen, taxi drivers, a guy from Boston Public Works, a driver on the Boston Duck Tour, a clerk at Brentanos, two homeys at the mall with their hats turned around backwards (Homey A in a METALLICA RULES Tshirt, Homey B wearing one showing Albert Einstein in the audience at a Ramones concert), a woman on the Boston Common walking her little white furball, even a grizzled old twotooth tolltaker on New Hampshires Spaulding Turnpikeall these hailed me with variations on the same theme Yo, Stevie! We got just who we wanted, right? Im back with a sick smile and a little wave, like Whatever, dude. Because Im thinking of that old saying, the one that goes Be careful what you wish for. And when you get right down to where the rubber hits the road, does it even matter? When you get right down to where the rubber meets the road, the Yankees just seem to be our fate, our ka, our name written on the bottom of the stone. Or maybe thats just so much literary bullshit. Probably is. God knows the Boston Red Sox have generated enough to fill two or three hundred Mass Pike PortoSans. Its dj vu all over again, that much is a pure fact. We can only hope that this time Act II will be different, allowing us still to be onstage, and in uniform, when the curtain goes up on Act III. Odd news two relatives of Yanks closer Mariano Rivera were killed over the weekend in a freak accident at his house and he has to fly down to Panama for the funeral, meaning hell have to jet back just in time for Game 1. And former NL MVP Ken Caminiti, who admitted his steroid use and became a baseball pariah, dies of heart failure at age fortyone (a cautionary tale for anyone on the juice, not just Gary Sheffield). We also declare our ALCS roster, making only one change. SO So Youks out and Mendozas in. I guess were hoping he has the book on his old club. And that Billy Mueller doesnt need a breather at third. And dunno if youve looked this far ahead, but do you know what night Game 7 of the World Series falls on? Thats right Halloween. October 12thALCS Game 1 The hype leading up to Game 1 is typical and idiotic. The games on Fox, and theyve prepared a fiveminute Star Wars intro, complete with Johnny as Chewbacca. If thats not enough, they play the theme from The Odd Couple over and over. The announcers are desperate to tell us what the story lines are, and the personal dramas. This is one reason I hate playoff baseballthe national networks think the viewers have just tuned in. On NESN, Jerry and Don have no need to fill us in on The Rivalry, they just call the game. They also dont call Bronson Arroyo Brandon (McCarverthe true inspiration behind the mute button) or compare ARods and Jeters mediocre years to Mannys and Davids MVPtype seasons. The game itself is dull and disappointing from the very first. Schilling cant push off on the ankle and gives up runs in bunches (later, Dr. Bill Morgan will describe the injury as a tear in a sheath covering a tendonshades of Nomar!), while the Orioles Mike Mussina is spoton. After three, its 60 Yanks, through six, 80, and the only drama is whether Moose will keep his nohitter. And then, just as news time is rolling around, and viewers naturally think of bailing, the Sox explode for seven runs, and who should be called in to save the game but plucky Mariano Rivera, who just arrived in the fourth inning from the funeral of blah blah blah native Panama. What an astonishing twist! Why, who could have foreseen such etc., etc.! The announcers play it up for all its worth, and if theres a more egregious use of a humaninterest story in sports, please, dont show it to me. Rivera even gets to start the gameending DP against his nemesis Bill Mueller. Its like watching a cheesy movie, every step feels utterly false and plotted. I mean, come on, who writes this stuff? October 13th Last nights game against the Yankees was a goodnewsbadnews kind of thing. You know, like in all the jokes youve heard. Doctor comes bopping into his patients examination room and says, Mr. Shlub, Ive got some good news and Ive got some bad news. Which do you want first? Gimme the bad news first, Mr. Shlub says. Save the good news. The bad news is that youre going to die of a horribly painful disease in six weeks or so, your bloods going to boil and your skins going to creep right off your body, and theres nothing we can do to stop it, the doctor says. Now do you want the good news? Mr. Shlub starts to blubber. What good news can there be after something like that? he asks the doctor, when he can speak coherently. Well, the doctor says in a confidential tone of voice, Im dating a nurse from Pediatrics, and she is so hot! The worst news to come out of last nights ALCS Game 1 is, of course, that we lost it. The good news is that the Red Sox made a game of it after being nohit by Mike Mussina into the seventh. Starting with Mark Bellhorns oneout double in the top of that inning, Boston smacked a total of 10 hits and scored 7 runs, coming back from what was an 80 deficit (with the tying run on third in the eighth, the camera caught fatherson Yankee fans exchanging caps in some arcane but endearing goodluck ritual). The Sox gave the Yankees a scare; the Sox silenced the Yankee fans; the Sox even gave their own fans something to go to bed at quarter to midnight feeling good about. The good news about Curt Schillings head is that its on straight. Father Curt says he doesnt believe in the socalled Curse of the Bambino. Im a Christian, he says fearlessly. The bad news about Father Curts ankle is that its not on straight. He couldnt push off on his right foot last night, threw only two fastballs at speeds greater than 90 mph, and the Yankees made him pay, pounding out 6 hits and 6 runs over three innings. The bad news is that this ankle injury happened at a cursedly bad time. The good news is that Father Curtwho doesnt believe in that publicitystunt curse, anywaythrew only 58 pitches in last nights mortar attack, and if the ankle gets better, he should be more than ready for Game 5, always assuming there is one. The bad news is that the Yankees scored 6 of their 10 runs after two were out. The good news is that the Red Sox scored all 7 of their runs after two were out, and stranded only two runners all night. The bad news is that the Red Sox dont win when Johnny Damon doesnt hit2004 baseball history pretty well proves thisand last night Johnny wore that fabled golden sombrero, striking out four times and looking more lost each time. The good news is that Jason Varitek socked a tworun dinger over the centerfield wall, ending a personal 0for36 drought at Yankee Stadium, and followed the dinger with a single against Mariano Rivera to open the ninth when the Red Sox once againsplendidly, against all probabilitybrought the tying run to the plate. Before the game, Curt Schilling said he couldnt think of anything better than making fifty thousand or so Yankee fans shut up. He wasnt able to do that, but in the seventh, eighth, and ninth innings last night, Boston batters were. The bad news is that if this series goes more than four games, Moose Mussina will be back. The good news is that the Boston batters who brought the lateinning thunder last night will also be back, and in each and every remaining game. The bad news is that Boston is a game in the hole. The good news is that at this point in the season they dont make you turn in your uniform and condemn you to spend the winter playing golf unless you lose three more. And finally, theres the most fascinating badnewsgoodnews matchup of them all, and the best reason I know to tune in to baseball rather than to the third presidential debate tonight Pedro will be starting for the Red Sox. The Yankees have hammered him this year, and Pedro has publicly proclaimed them his Daddy. Thats the bad news. But no one has more heart than Pedro Martinez, and no one will try any harder to send the Red Sox back to Fenway Park with a split. Thats the good news. Lets see what news they lead with on the sports page tomorrow. SO What a horribly convoluted endgame to get Rivera a save and exorcise the Ghost of Billy Mueller. At 80 theres no reason for him to come in, so in the seventh Matsui has two balls go off his glove, Bernie commits the worst error on a groundball single Ive ever seen, and Tek hits a homer, something he hasnt done in the Stadium in years. In the ninth, down three, I knew we couldnt go in order so I wasnt surprised that we got the two guys on to reach Mueller. And wasnt surprised by the doubleplay ending. The only consolation is that the powers that be have to give us a win to make up for this train wreck. Youll notice, though, that in all the hubbub they made sure Moose kept his win. SK Hey, I thought Moose deserved that win. And when the hurlyburlys done, when the game is lost and won, who gets the blame? Wakefield, for serving up a pair? Timlin, for serving it up to Bernie? Meanwhile, I think Father Curts done for the year. Maybe there really is a curse. Looks like the tragickal Mr. Lowe in Game 5 (if there is a Game 5; I presume there will be, and the way the weather looks, itll be about October 25th). Meanwhile, whos your Daddy? Jon Lieber or Pedro Martinez? Or is itHideous Hideki? Is he your Daddy? Go Sox! Wear that hair! SO No blame, just an ugly game. But look at it this way weve already got half of the split (just the wrong halfahuh ahuh). Lets see what the tiki gods decree tonite. Pedros got to have it, and weve got to hit early. Jon Lieber Pittsburgh Pirate. Bronson Arroyo Pittsburgh Pirate. Yeah, the weathers going to test usscattered showers all weekend, and were talking three night games, with the temp down around fortyfive. Add a little wind and wetness and well be sitting in deck chairs on the SS Fenway. October 14thALCS Game 2 I could continue with the goodnewsbadnews thing, theres plenty of material for it,but with the Sox headed back to Boston down two games to none, I dont have the heart for it. Its been thirteen years since a team has climbed out of an 02 hole in an LCS, and the Red Sox have never done so. I blame some of this on numb bad luck. I think most Red Sox fans (certainly this Red Sox fan) were counting on Father Curt to bring the team back from Yankee Stadium with a split. Now it turns out that Schillings ankle problem is not a mere tweak, not even a strain, but (oh shit) a probable seasonending injury that will need surgery. We all know both from gospel music and basic firstyear anatomy that the kneebone connected to the legbone and the legbone connected to the anklebone. The problem here, as I understand it, has to do with the peroneal tendon, where the anklebone connected to the footbone, can you give me hallelujah. In Schillings case, this tendon has come free of its sheath. When pushing off on his right leg during Game 1, Father Curt said he could actually hear the tendon snapping as it rubbed against the bone. Later, when speaking to the press, Sox doc Bill Morgan said additional pitching wouldnt put Schillings leg at risk, and Im thinking He can hear that thing snapping like a garter every time he hucks the pill and you say hes not risking his leg? Jeezis, Doctor Bill, Im sorta glad you dont make house calls in my neighborhood. Well, let it pass. What it boiled down to was a piece of rotten luck (not a curseI may not be a conventional Christian, but I was raised a Methodist) for the appetizer. The main course was a mostly excellent pitching performance by Pedro Martinez in which his teammates provided exactly two hits (the second by David Ortiz, who was promptly erased on a double play). After the game, Pedro shrugged and said If my team doesnt get the hits, I cant do nothing. He said it softly, without rancor. I thought he showed remarkable restraint, considering the fact thathe has been in this position in most of the games hes pitched this year. Schillingeven in the ALCS game he left trailing 60gets run support. For some reason Martinez does not. A downcast Johnny Damon echoed the erstwhile Dominican Dominator in a lockerroom interview, saying that Red Sox pitching hasnt been the problem in the ALCS; the problem has been lack of offense. No one is better qualified to speak to this issue than Johnny D, who has gone 0 for 8 in the two games. In my mind it is at this point the crucial difference between the two clubs. And two points have to be made about the Yankees. First, their much maligned pitching has so far been exceptional. Second, their hitting has been as advertisedor perhaps I should say as expected. The Yanks could almost be renicknamed The American League Hoodoo. National League teams are less impressed by their mystique (witness the success of the Florida Marlins against them last year), but while they remain on their own little patch, the Yankees are awesome in the month of October. What impresses me most is how balanced their attack is. Of the thirteen runs the Yankees have scored (playing exactly the same lineup both nights), Jeter has two, ARod has two, Sheffield has four, Matsui has two, Posada has one, Olerud has one (his tworun bomb last night won the game), and Lofton has one. Only Miguel Cairo and Bernie Williams have failed to score for the Yankeesthis is just two games. Its true that all but two of the Red Sox players (Cabrera and Damon) have also scored, but Bellhorn, Ortiz, Millar, Varitek and Mueller have each only scored once, and in a single runthrough of the batting order (during innings seven and eight of Game 1). Only Trot Nixon, who always seems to step his game up to Yankee levels during the postseason, scored for the Sox in both games. Meantime, were done with Yankee Stadium for a while,and we have the day off to regroup. Compared to those things, there is no bad news. Yep, Pedro made a quality start (on the fortyfourth anniversary of Mazs home run). He had some Ramonlike struggles early, but wriggled out of them and settled down nicely. The highpriced, steroidpumped, formerAllStar, MVP, Japanese national hero heart of the Yankee order did as much as our own vaunted Mark Bellhorn, Kevin Millar and Orlando Cabrera, which was nothing. The home run Pedro gave up was to borderline Hall of Famer John Olerud (yet another midseason pickup, not truly a Yankee at all), with his pitch count above 100, to the short part of a shrunken ballpark. We just didnt hit. Score one run in the AL, youre going to lose; it doesnt matter if youre playing the Yanks or the DRays. So we didnt get the split. It may be demoralizing, but it shouldnt be a huge surprise. George paid dearly for the Yankees to have the best home record in all of baseball. But guess who had the second best? Well have to win throwing Bronson, Wake and Lowe, but we havent taken the easy way all yearand that includes overcoming injuries to key players. We just have to stay hopeful and throw everything weve got at them Friday night (weather permitting), win that, battle on Saturday, and even the series. We could even lose a game up at Fenway and win this thing, weve just got to hit. Keep the Faith. SK Poor Father Curt. Go you Lowe! SO Down 20 to our evil nemesis, with our best arms gone, I feel like were Batman and Robin stuck in that giant snow cone, with the Joker (George) and his dumbasmud henchmen in their striped shirts (Yankee fans) laughing their asses off and then leaving us for dead. But you know what happens thenthats right, Batman goes to his superutility belt. Its time for us to pull something out. October 15thALCS Game 3 Stewart and I meet for dinner before the game, and although he agrees to split a BLT pizza on honey wheat crust, he expresses strong doubts about a pizza that comes with a topping of mayonnaisedressed lettuce. Still, he eats his share. I guess that after some fifty games at Fenway between us, weve had our fill of hot dogs. As we munch, we talk aboutwhat else?baseball. Of that we have not had our fill. Specifically we discusswhich team will be most apt to benefit from a rainout, which seems likely; the Massachusetts weather on this October evening is pretty awful. We agree, reluctantly, that the Yankees would probably be better served by an extra day of rest, because they could bring Mussina back sooner. The stars seem to be aligning themselves, and the horoscope doesnt look favorable if you happen to be a Sox fan. When we walk into California Pizza at 545 P.M., a light mist is hanging in the air. When we walk back out again at 645, the mist has thickened to a drizzle. By the time weve raised our arms to be frisked and have given our game bags over for examination outside Fenway Parks Gate D (its just how things are done in twentyfirstcentury America, where the citizenry now live on Osama Mean Time), the drizzle has become a light rain. Before clearing around midnight, the forecast calls for heavy downpours accompanied by strong winds. During the regular season, the fate of the game would be in the hands of the Red Sox up until the instant play started, and with the umps thereafter. In postseason, however, these contests are in the hands of Major League Baseball, an organization that seems to care a great deal more about TV revenue (witness the 8 P.M. starts, which ace out millions of little kids who have to get up for school on weekdays) than they do the fans, the players or the game itself. Last night, in the HoustonSt. Louis game, play went on through a steady downpour. Base hits spun up wheels of water as they rolled into the outfield. I dont mind getting wet, but I really dont want to see Manny Ramirez, Trot Nixon or Bernie Williams leave his career on the outfield grass of Fenway Park. I dont have to worry about that for long. An usher I know is leaning nonchalantly against the counter of the Legal Seafood kiosk, chattering away into his walkietalkie, as Stew and I walk by. He drops it into the pocket of his yellow rainslicker and waves us over. Go on home, you guys, he says. Games gonna be called at seven thirty. I ask him if hes sure. He says he is. We hang in a little while, anywaylong enough to soak up the rainy atmosphere of Fenway Park (soak it up, geddit?), where the game still hasnt been officially called. The tarp remains on the infield at 758 P.M., however, and that pretty much tells the tale. The news and TV guys arehuddled under canvas minipavilions, reduced to taking pictures of and doing interviews with each other. Peter Gammons comes bopping busily along, looking like some strange but amiable human crow in his black trousers and long black raincoat. Stewart and I pass a few words with him, mostly about the possibility of Father Curt pitching again this year (unlikely but not impossible, given Schillings fierce competitive drive), and then we leave. I am actually back in my hotel room, drying my hair, before Major League Baseball can finally bring itself to unloose its clenched and rainpuckered fingers enough to let this one go. October 16th I open the curtains at 8 A.M. on cloudless blue skies. Tonight the Yankees and Red Sox will play baseball. Im bringing the whole famn damily to this one, so I have to buy tickets from a broker, and end up paying through the nose so we can watch what turns out to be the worst game of the year, maybe of my lifeworse even than Mr. Lowes rainy debacle at Yankee Stadium. Its fifty degrees, but the wind is gusting up to 40 mph, and were sitting in the very last row of the grandstand. Gales blow through the wire fence, around the mercifully insulating standingroom crowds at our backs and into our collars. Caitlins shivering, so I break down and sign up for a credit card just to get a free MLB blanket. Bronsons got nothing, but Kevin Browns equally ineffective. Kevin, we chant. Jeter makes an error that leads to a run, and its Jeeeeeter, Jeeeeeter. (Hes been terrible in the field, just as distracted as last year, fodder for critics who say ARod should play short; but Jeter doesnt have the reactions or the gun for third, and probably wont accept a demotion to second.) After Bronson we throw the dregs of our pen, as if the Coma is conceding the gameas if hes okay with being down 03. Weird. Matsui drives in five. After Sheffield powers out a steroid shot, the standingroom crowd disperses and the wind cuts through us. In Little League, theres a tenrun mercy rule, but not here, and to save our real pen, Wake volunteers to soak up some innings, meaning Lowe will be starting tomorrow (far better, I think, considering how Wake has thrown this season). But instead of holding the Yanks so we can get back in the game, Wake lets a runner inherited from Leskanic score, then gives up five runs of his own, putting the game way out of reach. Embree looks bad, and then Francona leaves poor Mike Myers out there to face righties in the ninth, something that should never happen. Myers sucks it up and ultimately gets it done, but by then its 198. Its ugly, and humbling, but the worst thing that happens is that the Faithful (if these really are the Faithful) turn on Mark Bellhorn, booing him mercilessly when he makes an error that leads to a run, and then with each successive strikeout. Its as if they dont remember the Marky Mark who stepped up and kept us in first place through April and May. Its wrong, and it pisses me off even more than the Yankees taking walks late in the game, or Matsui swinging for the fences with a tenrun lead. October 17th The Yankees played. The Sox got shelled. I slouched into my hotel room well after midnight and jotted only a brief gamerelated note in my journal (Red Sox lost. Horrible) before falling into bed, where I got roughly six hours of shallow, dreaminfested sleep.I got up at 7 A.M. this morning, pulled on a pair of exercise shorts and my new Kevin Youkilis shirt (a gift from Stewart ONan, bless him) and went around to Au Bon Pain for orange juice and a croissant. I did not buy a Boston Globe in the hotel newsstand, and I certainly did not turn on SportsDesk when I got back to my room. I turned on the headline news program with the ticker across the bottom of the screen instead, and only long enough to confirm the final score of last nights abortion. Then I shut the damned thing off and did my morning exercises for once without the benefit of media no scores, no polls, no reports of suicide bombings in Baghdad. 198. That was the final score. Replace the hyphen with a 1 and you have the last year the Red Sox won the World Series. Maybe theres a curse after all. Or a Curse, if you prefer. Until the third inning of this train wreck, there was actually some semblance of a game. After that, the Yankees simply piled it on. Jason Varitek had a good offensive night for the Red Sox; Hideki Matsui, unfortunately, had a sublime night for the Yankees, thekind of night baseball players dream about and have maybe once, and only then if theyre lucky. 198, and Im sure that Dan Shaughnessy, Bostons Number One Cursemonger, will make hay of that in todays unread newspaper, but the fault, dear Brutus, has lain not in our stars but our statsespecially those of our mediocre relief corps, which this series against the Yankees has mercilessly exposed. Arroyo didnt have much, but Arroyo can only be held responsible for the first half dozen runs or so (ow, it hurts to write that). Leskanic came on and gave up a threerun homer to Gary Sheffield; Wakefield lasted three and a third largely ineffective innings; Embree followed Wakefield and was worse; then came Mike Myers and the song remains the same. There may have been others. You could look it up, Ole Case used to say, and he was right, but for that Id have to buy a Boston Globe, and while I might be able to avoid Dan Shaughnessys cursemongering, my eye would surely fall on the hairy, downcast mugs of the Red Sox players. Coming back from New York, already down two games to none thanks to Schillings bad ankle and Oleruds home run, the Sox players kept telling reporters they were loose. And so they were; last night they were so loose all four wheels fell off their little red wagon. Its true that Ramirez, Mueller, Cabrera and especially Jason Varitek found their offensive strokes, but putting eight runs on the board means little when you could double that and still lose by three. Yet still we are faithful; to steal the title of the movie that played in New England this past spring (a spring that now seems impossibly distant and hopeful), still we believe. Tonight well once again fill the old green church of baseball on Lansdowne Street, in some part because its the only church of baseball we have; in large part becauseeven on mornings like this, when the cleanshaven Yankee Corporate Creed seems to rule the hardball universeits still the only church of baseball we can really love. No baseball team has ever come back from a threegamestonone deficit to win a postseason series, but a couple of hockey teams have done it, and we tell ourselves it has to happen sooner or later for a baseball team, it just has to. We tell ourselves Derek Lowe has one more chance to turn 2004 from tragickal to magickal. We tell ourselves its just one game at a time. We tell ourselves the impossible can start tonight. During BP, a liner dings off the photographers well in front of me and bounces out into the shallow outfield grass. Don Mattinglys walking back from the cages under the centerfield bleachers with a balding guy in a champagnecolored suit, and as they near the ball, I realize its Reggie Jackson. Reggie, I holler, hit the mitt, and hold out my glove, and he doesmaybe for the first time as an outfielder. I hustle over to Steve to show him the ball. I can rationalize my excitement because Reggie, in my mind, will always be an Aand one of those hairy, wild As from a team much like this years Sox, kind of goofy and out of control, full of personality. Im jazzed, just watching the parade of celebrity sportscasters when Steve hands the ball back. On it, hes written The curse is off, and then on the sweet spot has signed it Babe Ruth. Later, another piece of luck in the tenth inning, in an incredibly tight and great game, Bernie Williams fouls one high off the roof facing, and the ball plummets directly toward me. All I have to do is raise my arm and the ball hits dead center in the pocket of my glove. The next inning Im on the JumboTron with my mitt, and my particles are beamed out across the nation to friends and relatives everywhereand I have enough sense left (or maybe Im just too tired) not to point at myself and go, Look, Im on the JumboTron! And this is just the beginning. From here the night just gets better. October 18thALCS Game 4 It turned out that Mr. Lowe was pretty magickal, and so we live to fight another day. Today, in fact. This afternoon, at 510 P.M., when Pedro Martinez and Mike Mussina match up in the years last American League game at Fenway Park. Last nights twelveinning tilt was the longest game in postseason history, clocking in at five hours and two minutes. I went with my daughterinlaw, and we finally left when Boston failed to score in the bottom of the eleventh. My reasoning was simple enough if Boston won, Id be back the next day (make that the same day; it was ten past one when we finally made our way out of the park). If Boston lost, I didnt want to be there to see the Yankees dancing on the carefully manicured pair of green sox decorating the infield. As things turned out, our final (and winning) pitcher of the nightCurtisThe Mechanic Leskanicwas superb in relief after being just one more slice of bullpen salami in the Game 3 blowout. He gave up one of those dyingquail singles to Posada to open the twelfth (this we heard on the radio, heading back to the hotel on eerily deserted streets), then got Ruben Sierra to ground out and Tony Clark to fly out.Miguel Cairo fanned, setting the stage for the dramatic Red Sox finish, which I arrived back in my hotel room just in time to see. By then Paul Quantrill was pitching for the Yankees. Joe Torre rolled the dice by bringing Mo Rivera on to pitch two innings and try to close out the series. Rivera is the games premier closer, but he has occasional problems with the Red Sox, and last night he blew the Yankees onerun lead in the ninth, giving up a single to Bill Mueller with speedy Dave Roberts, pinchrunning for Kevin Millar, on second.Gordon replaced Rivera and went two scoreless. Quantrillnot exactly chopped liverwas what was left. He never got an out. After yielding a single to Manny Ramirez, he threw David Ortiz what looked to me like either a fastball or a slider. Whatever it was, it was in Ortizs wheelhouse, and Big Papi crushed it. Like every other Red Sox fan, Im delighted that this isnt going to be a sweep, like most postseason series that start off 30. As a contributor to this book, Im even more delighted to have a victory to write about before the ultimate signoff. But one who loves the Boston Red Sox is also one who loathes the New York Yankees; its as true as saying night follows day. So it pleases me most of all to point out we are now 1211 overall this year against George Steinbrenners team of limousine longballers, and that last nights victory, combined with the ALCS bestofseven format, ensures an odd and wistfully wonderful statistical certainty the Yankees cant beat us this year. Not overall. They can go on to the World Series (and probablywill, although I still harbor faint hopes we can prevent that), but the best they can do against us for the season is a tieand they can only do that by winning today. That will not matter a single whit to them, of course, but when youre a Red Sox fan, you take consolation wherever it is available.