) Ruben Sierra (career, what career?) leads off the seventh with a Monster shot off Malaska to make it 108. The crowd in the humid room groans. I go out to the beach, where theres a little kid in a Red Sox Tshirt with a Wiffle bat hitting stones into the ocean in the rain. Stone after stone clack, clack, clack. Finally, some perspective. The games not about the slowdown, or the TV contract, or the groan, its about how fun it is to swing a bat and make contact. That clean ping. Embree, who worked out of a jam in the seventh, is angry in the dugout because Mills pulled him for Mendoza. Im horrified to see Mendoza myself, since he hasnt thrown a clutch inning since last June, including his seasonlong stint in the minors. Somehowphysics wont explain ithe does today, and not just one, but two of them. We go to the ninth down 108, facing Mo, as always. Hes converted 23 straight save opportunities, the Yanks are 560 when leading, blah blah blah. With two strikes, Nomar doubles on a particularly flat cutter. Rivera goes 31 on Trot, who crushes the next pitch to right. Get OUT! we yell, rising from our chairs. Sheffield goes back sideways, then backwards, crablike, and hauls it in on the track. In any other park its a gametying home run. Fenway givethNomar moves over, and while were still talking about Riveras ineffectiveness, Millar bloops one to right, making it a onerun game. Mos not Mo. Hes missing high, missing wide, all over the place. He goes 31 on Bill Mueller, then gives him the same flat pitch he threw Trot, and Billy gets it. Thats gone! I say, and Sheffield knows it too, turning to show us his number as the ball lands in the glove of Sox bullpen catcher Dana LaVangie. The Sox jump up and down at home, slapping Billy on his shaved head (for some reason he pulls his helmet off just before he touches the platemaybe he wants to really feel it to remember it forever). In the room, were all up and shouting, trading high fives and hugging. I told you! Steph says. You did, I admit, because hes been behind Billy all the way, even when he hit into a rallykilling DP early on. So its a double win, a TKO by Tek and a walkoff shot by Bill Mueller, enormously satisfying, and just. And weird, the way Mendoza was suddenly unhittable (where in Pawtucket the Rochester Red Wings were wearing him out), and Mo so hittableand wild, very much unlike him. The fights great for ratings too, and reinvigorates the rivalry, after being down nine and a half games. As a novelist, Id say the plots too pat, designed for the big finish, like some of the NFL playoff games the last couple years. The more I think of it, the less I like it. SO Now I know what youre doing out there writing scripts for Fox Baseball, a division of the International Roller Derby Association. Todays walkoff sure looked cookedthe same bad pitch to Trot and Bill Mill? Talk about a groovy situation. I swear when Trot stepped in he looked out at Rivera apologetically, as if this wasnt his idea (Thou shalt not lie, Christopher Trotman Nixon). But were so desperate that well gladly take it and be thankful. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. July 25th ESPNs showing the rubber game of the series, meaning its an 805 start. It also means ESPNs built a temporary stage just past the thirdbase dugout, and the screen thats usually at third has been moved to protect Peter Gammons, Harold Reynolds and John Kruk. When Miguel Cairo smokes a rope right at me in BP, I realize why the screen is there. The balls hit so onthenose that it knuckles, and I have to follow it all the way into my glove. I actually catch it in the pocket with a satisfying smack, getting a hand from the crowd and a few glances from the Yankees gathered at short, but its hit so hard that my index fingerwhich sticks through the Holdster opening and is cushioned by at least three layers of leatheris numb and then tingly. Hows it feel? a guy behind me jokes. Good, I say, and in a way it does. Ive played a fair amount at goalie and at third base, and its the hardest shot Ive ever stopped. Heres how big the game is instead of the Hood blimp cruising low over us like Friday night, its the Met Life blimp. Weve gone from regional to national. I get a ball that ARod kicks taking grounders, then Im off to Autograph Alley where Oil Can Boyd is signing, accompanied by a beefy, bleachedblond guy with a bright Hawaiian shirt and ten pounds of gold jewelry, like a wrestlers manager. The Can is gaunt but stylish, fringes of gray in his closecropped hair. Nineteen eightysix, I say as hes signing my ball, ALCS Game Six. You were here, I was here. Thanks, Dennis. The concourse is gridlocked, and I miss the Marine honor guard unfurling a massive American flag that covers the Monster, and then John Kerry throwing out the first pitch. (KerryEdwards campaign aides are handing out SOX FANS FOR KERRY signs throughout the parka byproduct of owner Tom Werners support of the Democrats.) I reach my seat in time for Derek Lowes first pitch. Right from the beginning, the umps squeezing him. Lowe has Kenny Lofton struck out, but theres no call. Lofton grounds a single to left that somehow makes it to the wall and becomes a double. Lofton takes third when Jeterin a Zoolanderstupid movebunts him over. Sheffield hits a fly to center thats short enough for an interesting play at the plate, but Johnny waves both arms as if he doesnt see it. Bellhorns going out, Kaplers streaking in from right. Kapler dives, an instant too late. Lofton scores; Sheffield, jogging, ends up at first. ARod nubs one that Bill Mueller has no play on, then Lowe bounces one that just nicks Posada on the foot (Andrew tosses me the traitorous ball). Matsui hits a fly deep enough to get Sheffield home. Bernie Williams flies to Mannya nice running catch in the cornerbut its 20 Yanks, and Lowe is redcheeked and unhappy. Jose Contrerass ERA at Fenway this year is over 20.00, and he shows us why. Johnny legs out an infield single, then moves to second when a pickoff throw gets past Tony Clark. Contreras quickly walks Bellhorn and Ortiz, bringing up Manny with bases loaded and no out. Manny rips a grounder to third, and Johnnys off. ARod thinks he has a play at home, but he rushes the throw, yanking it to the infield side, and Posada has to lay out to get it, his foot coming off the plate. Johnnys in therebut ump Hunter Wendelstedt punches him out. What? Im out of my seat and screaming at him, trying to keep my language clean so I dont get kicked out. Trudys embarrassed but amused too. Our neighbor Mason laughs, shaking his head. Thats the third horrible call thats gone against us this series. And two were for runs! Bases are still loaded for Nomar. He jumps all over a Contreras fastball and lines a bullet to Matsui in left, too short to score Bellhorn. Two down, and it looks like were going to blow another opportunity, but Millar, whos been blazing lately, dumps one into center that Lofton cant quite get to. They should have a play on Manny, but it never materializes, and the games tied. Lowe has no problem with the bottom of their order (Bernie, Tony Clark and Enrique Wilson will go a combined 1 for 10), and in our half of the second, Contreras hits Mirabelli, gives up a smoked single to Kapler and then serves up a pretty Pesky Pole shot to Johnny, the ball rising into the night, then hitting the woven metal skirt of the pole and dropping straight down. Were still celebrating when Bellhorn takes one out. Its 62 and only the second inning. Contreras picks up his second hit batsman of the inning when he throws behind Millar. The crowd is pissed and loud. After Friday nights game, and how blatant the pitch was, I expect hell be heaved to keep order, but no, Wendelstedt just issues a warning to both clubs. So the Yanks get two free ones. When a pitch gets through Mirabelli and knocks Wendelstedts mask off, sending him to one knee, theres a sense of frontier justice. Torre decides to save the pen and let Contreras hang, and it works for the most part. The unstoppable Millar hits a Coke bottle shot in the fifth, and the two runs we tack on in the sixth are partly reliever Felix Heredias fault, and partly Matsuis, when he gets fooled by a fly to left. Earlier in the series, he got caught too close to the wall and a ball hopped over his head; now he plays too far off it and David Ortizs slicing fly hits the padding about five feet off the ground, and a catchable ball becomes a runscoring double. Millar singles Ortiz in for his fourth RBI. Its 92, and the games turning into a party. John Kerrys sitting two sections over from us, right by the end of the Sox dugout, along with John Glenn, Joe Biden, Tom Brokaw, Tim Russert, and a gaggle of other Democratic National Convention celebrities. Between innings, the teenage guys sitting in front of us gesture to him with a ball they want signed. Kerry waves it on. The kids throw is short, hitting Katie Couric. Kerry signs it, and since Im the only one with a glove, he throws it back to me. When the next halfinnings over, I catch Kerrys eye with the ball I snagged from Miguel Cairo and toss it to himthe right distance, but wide. I think its going to bounce onto the field, but Kerry reaches over the wall, stretches and makes a sweet onehanded grab. I point to him, surprised; he points back and nods. After he signs, his toss is perfect, headhigh, and again we point at each other. Oil Can Boyd and John Kerry in one day! In the top of the seventh Bellhorn pulls up on a grounder by Kenny Lofton. Lowe gets Jeter (Zooooooooolanderrrrr!) and Sheffield (Juice! Juice! Juice!), but Lofton steals second and ARod walks. Lowes pitch count is around 120, so Francona goes to Timlin, and I go to the bathroom, figuring a sixrun lead is safe. Its quiet in the bathroom, too quiet, I think, and then theres a cheer. Then nothing. When I get out of the stall, there are maybe five guys at the long line of urinals, and I know somethings wrong. When I sidle my way up the ramp, I check the scoreboard Sox 9 Yanks 6. What happened? I ask Trudy. I go away for five seconds and everything goes to hell. Timlin happened, she says. Matsui hit a grand slam. So its a game again, and the newly acquired Terry Adams (yikes) makes it even more torturous in the eighth by walking number nine hitter Enrique Wilson (now batting .215). Lofton spanks a double down the rightfield line, and they have second and third with one out. Foulke comes in to face Jeter, who rips the first pitch off Foulkes shin, and in a very unRedSoxlike sequence, the ball ricochets directly to the one man who can throw Jeter out catcher Doug Mirabelli. Mirabelli even has time to glance at third, then guns it to first. The ball hits Jeter in the shoulder and rolls into right. Wendelstedt is on the play immediately, waving both arms to one side, like a football ref signaling a fieldgoal try wide right. Its interference Jeters out for running to the infield side of the baseline, purposely trying to block the throw. The runners have to return to their bases. Its the Ghost of Ed Armbrister, I say, conjuring up another demon to be exorcised. Joe Torre pads out to argue, but its pointless. Jeter the Cheater finally got busted; the Sox finally got a call, and just in time too. Sheffields up next, and smokes a hooking line driveright to Manny, and were out of it. Foulke throws a quick onetwothree ninth, the crowd on its feet for every pitch. Its another big win, and after last night, maybe the start of the turnaround weve been waiting for. Were 84 against the Yanks on the year and back in front in the wild card, with Pedro going tomorrow. Lets go Sox! July 26th I rarely in my life wanted to be at Fenway as much as I wanted to be there for the threegame series between the Red Sox and the Yankees that just concluded. Not because John Kerry threw out the ceremonial first pitch in prime time last night; not because theres always a chance the two teams will go at it (as they did, and fullbore, on Saturday); not even because the atmosphere when these two teams play is always crazyscaryelectric, like Victor Frankensteins lab about twenty seconds before the monster on the slab opens its eyes. I wanted to be there because it was an absolutely crucial series for the Red Sox, if they are to maintain any thin chance of winning the AL East. Lose two, I thought, and the players can probably forget about that part of it; get swept, and the fans can start questioning the teams commitment to winning anything. Well, wish in one hand, shit in the other, see which one fills up firstI think Mahatma Gandhi said that. Instead of being in Boston, I found myself on the West Coast, three thousand miles from Fenway Park, speaking to a bunch of doctors about how it feels to get hit by a small van (not good) and how long it takes to get over it (quite a while). Still, Red Sox fans cant escape the Red Sox; that is the basic fact of our existence. Even in L.A., I went to bed sick at the 87 loss on the night of the 23rd. Distance didnt lessen the pain; it made it worse. With no NESN, I was reduced to the coverage in the Saturday Los Angeles Timeswhich, due to their ridiculous infatuation with the Dodgers, was skimpy. Still, there was enough to make it clear that Curt Schilling and Keith Foulkeour supposed Yankeekillersboth played a part in the loss. Its hard to blame Schilling, who all season has worked like a railway yardman in need of overtime and has been consistently effective. Its also hard to blame Foulke, but easy to be exasperated with him. I think that goes with the role of closer. And of course it had to be Alex Rodriguez, The One Who Got Away, who delivered the gamewinning hit. Ironically, it was also Rodriguez who seems to have galvanized the Red Sox since, and all because he couldnt just put his head down and trot to first. Nope, he had to jaw at Bronson Arroyo, who plunked him on theshoulder pad. Jason Varitek got between pitcher and batter, telling ARod in a few choice words (Variteks version) to take his base.Rodriguez told Tek where he could stick his base, Tek pushed ARods pretty face, and the rumble was on. By the time it was over, Yankee pitcher Tanyon Sturtze had sustained a healthy cut on the side of his face (David Ortiz might have had something to do with that), four or five players had been ejected, and Varitek ended up sitting out Sundays game. Probably just as well, from a catching standpoint; John Kerry threw out the first pitch, and while he may be a helluva politician, his slider needs serious work. (Can you even trust a politician with a good slider?just asking.) Following the rhubarb, the donnybrook, and the ejections, the Sox finally woke from their stupor, winning one of the most thrilling games of the year in the bottom of the ninth on a Bill Mueller walkoff home run. They won Sundays game 96, and are schooling the Orioles tonight behind Pedro the score is 125 in the bottom of the seventh. If this is the place where the season turns aroundand stranger things have happenedthen you can give Jason Varitek the MVP for getting in Alex Rodriguezs face. July 27th Trots on the DL, I discover, having aggravated the quad. The team makes it sound like a brief stay, just to let him rest, and to make room on whats now a crowded roster. Yesterday in Pawtucket I watched Cesar Crespo play badly, and I wonder if its the effect of us signing Ricky Gutierrez, knocking Cesar that much further down the depth chart. My neighbor Dave was at the Saturday brawl game and says one reason why the fight started wasnt shown on TV after ARod started barking, Bronson Arroyo walked toward home plate, tugging at his crotch. Ay, I got ya 252 million right here. July 28th Three days from the trading deadline, the papers say the Yanks are close to finalizing a deal for Randy Johnson, and the Twins and Pirates are ready to swap former Rock Cat Doug Mientkiewicz and Kris Benson. Theo so far has been quiet. Whether that means hes being secretly effective or coming up empty remains to be seen, but it would not bode well if our big midseason acquisition was Terry Adams. At 4554, the Orioles are sleepwalking through another disapponting season. You wouldnt know it by the way theyve played against the Red Sox, though. Behind Pedro, and still pumped up from beating the Yankees two out of three, we shellacked them two nights ago, but the Os batters had touched Tim Wakefield for four quick runs last night before the game was washed out. Tonight they got four more against Curt Schilling, and sorry, no rain. We are 47 so far against Baltimore this year, and Id love to be able to comfort myself by saying we just play lousy against the Birds, but it aint so, Joe. The fact of the matter is that the Birds play lousy against the rest of the league and like World Champions against us. Schilling (124) against Dave Borkowski (12) was a mismatch on paper, but for the last time, baseball games arent played on paper and tonight Borkowskiwho wed already beaten once this yearpitched like Steve Carlton in his prime, setting down the first thirteen Red Sox batters to face him before giving up a single to Nomar in the fifth. He pitched seven strong and left the game with a twohit shutout. The only Boston run came on an Ortiz dinger with two out in the ninth, and Javy Lopeza Red Sox nemesis from his Atlanta Braves dayshit a pair off Schilling, getting three of the four Baltimore RBIs. So were a game behind Oakland in the wildcard race, and we have the unpleasing prospect of three games against the redhot Minnesota Twins in the immediate future and eight more against the Os before the season is over. And if we finish the season series with them at something like 712, and lose the wild card by two games, we can blame the Birds. Hell, it beats blaming the Bambino. July 29th Now the papers say Theo might try to piggyback that TwinsPirates deal, shipping Youkilis to Pittsburgh for Mientkiewicz. Just the idea makes me queasy. Trading Lowe or Nomar would be bad enough, even if we have no intention of signing them, but Youks the future. After what happened with Freddy Sanchez (though hes been hurt the last year or so), they ought to know better. The Sox have a travel day, so to get my daily dose I take Steph and the boys over to Norwich for a doubleheader against the Trenton Thunder. Like New Britain, Norwich has a pretty little park that holds around six thousand, but the food is better here. I get a ball during warmups and have former Sox closer and current Norwich pitching coach Bob The Steamer Stanley and his former batterymate and current firstbase coach Roger LaFrancois sign it. The Thunder are the Yanks doubleA club. They used to be ours before we acquired Portland from the Marlins, and the Navigators used to be the Yankees, so for longterm fans there are some mixed (if not to say confused) feelings. But its Camp Day, so most of the fans are too young to care. Its a brilliant blue afternoon, everyone receives a coupon for free ice cream, and as we leave, the ushers hand out flyers telling us Willie Mays is coming next week. Makes me wish I could be here for it. July 30th Its the big party for Trudys parents fiftieth anniversary, a real production, and I cant get away with the sneaky Pirates radio and earphone. A good half of the guests are New Englanders and diehard Sox fansthe men mostly, with memories of the 46 club, and the old Braves. To a man, they think Franconas just another patsy. The last manager we had with any spine was Dick Williams. You saw, everywhere he went he was a winner. The women roll their eyes. After the bands packed up, we have a nightcap downstairs in the bar. The TVs silently playing Extra Innings, and Eric Friede and Sam Horn and Jayme Parker are all smiling, so my guess is we won. The Yanks did too, and the Rangers, so were behind the As again. They also list a pair of big trades. The Mets have won the Benson sweepstakes. Not only that, but in a fiveteam deal, somehow they also picked up Tampa Bay ace Victor Zambrano and put themselves in a position to win the wimpy NL East. The other trade is an eightplayer swap between the Marlins and Dodgers, the principals being Brad Penny and Charles Johnson, Guillermo Mota and Paul Lo Duca. No news from Theo. July 31st The Yankees have reversed themselves on Giambis intestinal parasite and are now saying he has a benign tumor and may be out for the season. Also, during Foxs Yankee Game of the Week, an announcer says that Trot will miss the rest of the year (instead of the week or two the Sox originally reported). If thats true, were screwed. All the friends who came to last nights party are here for a day at the beach, and theres a revolving audience for the YankeesOs game. ARod takes home on the back end of a double steal that the Orioles fall for, and for the rest of the day the announcers crow about how ARod stole home as if hes Jackie Robinson. Im just watching the game for any late trade news, since the deadlines almost upon us. Soon its past fourno newsand the Yanks are winning, so I go pack my things to drive Steph home for a friends birthday party. I get the news from my daughterinlaw, a onceuponatime Yankee fan (like onceuponatime Protestants who convert to Catholicism, lapsed Yankee fans who become Red Sox partisans are the ones who REALLY MEAN BUSINESS), and she sounds the way I feel shocked but somehow not all that surprised. The player most commonly identified with the Boston Red Sox, the one whose number most fans probably expected to see someday up on the wall along with Williamss, Peskys, and Yazs, is no longer with the Red Sox. Number Five has been traded, and probably the only consolation to be taken by fans who place tradition and heart above salary and statistics is that hes been traded to the one other team in baseball whose long World Series drought has become not just the stuff of history but that of myth. Thats right folks; at game time tomorrow, Nomar GarciaparraBostons surviving marquee player from the days of Dan Duquettewill take the field as a Cubbie. Does the deal make sense? I dont think so; I think that two years from now it will look like a panic move made by a young GM who saw his highpriced (and supposedly highpowered) baseball team treading water eight or nine games behind the monolithic Yankees in the AL East and a game or two behind the Oakland As in the wild card (but still more advantageouslyplaced than their closest competition). In other words, I think that Theo Epstein probably pulled the pin on a big deal at the trading deadline mostly because everyone in Bostons howling ohGodmyassholesonfire sports community was yelling for it to happen !!OH JEEZ!! !!BEFORE ITS TOO LATE!! What exactly did we get for our usually dependable, sometimes brilliant, and (I admit it) at times erratic shortstop, who was batting .321 at the time of the trade? We got two Gold Glove infielders, one with a name that can be both pronounced and spelledthat would be Orlando Cabreraand the other with a name that can at least be pronounced Doug Mientkiewicz (manKAYvitch). Putting the bat on the little white ball has seemed a little harder than catching it for these gentlemen, at least so far this season. Both are hitting around .250. According to Red Sox general manager Theo Epstein, the fact that Cabrera and Mientkiewicz currently have batting averages seventy points below Garciaparras doesnt matter. As a disciple of Billy Beane and a follower of Bill James, he likes these men for their defense and their on base per centage (OBP).He also likes them because Nomar Garciaparra is in the last year of a contract currently paying him 11 million a year, and resigning him probably would have been trs expensive. Stories about how Nomars feelings were hurt during the failed ARod deal are probably no more than the usual baseball bullshit, but heres something that isnt both Nomar and his agent know that baseball is a business. They also know that an athletes period of top earning ability is severely limited when compared to, say, that of a corporate CEO (or a bestselling novelist), and I have no doubt that Nomar and his man of business were determined to Make Em Pay this fall, whoever em turned out to be. Theo Epstein just decided em wasnt going to be us. Does that make sense? Im sure it does to Theo Epstein, and it probably does to those of the Billy Beane bent. It does, in other words, if you see big league baseball as a businessand nothing else. Who it does not make sense to is my fiveyearold grandson, who was watching ESPN when SportsCenter announced the trade. Ethan is a big Nomar fan. He always pretends to be Nomar when hes hitting in the backyard, when hes throwing, when hes running the bases. So its Ethan Im thinking about as I write thisnot his mother (the converted Yankee fan), not Nomar himself, not even the Red Sox, the putative subject of this book. Nope, Im just thinking about Ethan. Nomars a Cub, he said, then watched the TV for a while. Then, very softly, he said I guess I like the Cubs. Good call, Ethan. Very good call. Ive just finished my goodbyes when my sisterinlaw says Ive got a phone call. Its Steve. They traded Nomar, he says. Aw shit, I say, partly because they fooled me. Its almost five oclock. I thought I was safe. To the Cubs. I think we got their shortstop and maybe a pitcher. Alex Gonzalez is a decent shortstop, and weve been looking at starter Matt Clement, maybe to take Arroyos place or to assume the middle role. I relay the news to the boys, and they switch back to the game. Steph runs in. We got Cabrera and Mientkiewicz. So it was a threeteam deal. So Nomars gone to Red Sox West, Steve says. My fiveyearold grandsons been in tears. But I still like Nomar, he says. I guess Im a Cubs fan now.  I think we must have gotten Clement, since our real need is middle relief, but Steve cant find anything on the website. Nomar for Mientkiewicz and Orlando Cabrera of the Expos (so its a fourteam deal). It doesnt seem like enoughand weve already got three first basemen and three journeyman shortstops. It must have been a panic move on Theos part, dumping Nomar before he could walk (its just like the Yawkeys not wanting to pay a star top dollar and getting nothing for him). While Im still on the phone, Steph tells me the Yanks have gotten last years Cy Young runnerup Esteban Loaiza from the White Sox for Jose Contreras. Its a steal, even with Georges three million thrown ina panic move on Chicagos part that doubly benefits the Yanks. So we got hosed on both deals. Steves off to see The Village, Im off to drive a hundred miles. After I hang up, I feel like the seasons over, like weve given up. On the road we tune into ESPN radio and hear that we got speedster Dave Roberts from the Dodgers for outfielder Henri Stanley, who just signed balls for us in Pawtucket on Monday. Its a good deal, but not large enough to make up for the loss of Nomar. The Sox without Nomar. It seems like a defeat, whoevers fault it is. During the pregame, Theo talks about how we needed to fix our defense, as if thats what drove the deal. Then, because we have nowhere else to put him, we start Millar in right even though Kaplers been hot. (Steph notes that the music behind his highlights from last night is Tenacious Ds Wonderboy.) The game is anticlimactic after the video of Nomar leaving the clubhouse for the airport. The announcersall of them paid by the Soxput the best face on the deal they can, picking at Nomars attitude and his heel. Wheres Eck when you need him? (Cooperstown, being inducted.) Lowe throws okay, so does Radke. The biggest moment is when Doug Mientkiewicz steps to the plate for the first time in a Red Sox uniform. Mientkiewicz is a lifelong Twin, and the Metrodome rises and gives him a noisemeterworthy ovation. He has to step out to collect himself, and I realize we never had a chance to say goodbye to Nomar (we didnt know it, but that Sundaynight game against the Yanks was his last home game). Its a close game late, tied in the eighth when Embree comes in with one down and the bases empty to face lefty Jacque Jones. He gets behind him, then aims a fastball. Jones cranks it, flipping his bat away. The ball lands ten rows back. Joe Nathan, throwing 98, closes with the help of Francona. Mientkiewicz singles to open the inning; Kapler pinchruns. Millar, who should be bunting, swings away. On an 01 count, Kapler goes and Henry Blanco guns him by ten feet. Millar flies out. Its a terrible atbat on all counts, an embarrassment. Bill Mueller then steps in and pulls a long shot down the linefoul. He singles (it would have easily scored Kapler), then takes second on a wild pitch before Youkilis strikes out. Overall, just a tough day to be a Red Sox fan. Seems like everywhere we turned we did something stupid and got our asses kicked. There are sixty games left, and were pretty much where we were last year. Its time to put a stretch drive together. Or else. Everyone except Warren Oates has played first base for the Red Sox this year. Manager Francona had Oates down for it one night, but had to scratch him when he found out that Oates had died some time ago. Nor has it hurt that Johnny Damon is off to what may be a career year at the plate. The almost qualification is easily explained. Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz are playing tonight. I dont want either of them hurt, as Pedro Martinez almost certainly hurt his arm by throwing too hard in the 1999 AllStar Game. The Los Angeles Dodgers were also 4838 at the break, good enough to lead the NL West by half a game. On the replay Varitek appears to be saying either Take your fucking base or Get the fuck to first base. Mientkiewicz did his best to make Epstein look like a genius in his first game as a Red Sox, going 2 for 4, both singles. The second hit came in the top of the ninth against Minnesotathe only pro baseball team hed ever played for until this eveningin a game which the Twins led by a score of 54. He got to second baseinto scoring position, in other wordsbefore Kevin Youkilis struck out to end the game. The other new Boston players should join the club tomorrow. August The Hottest August on Record August 1st Let the juggling begin. Cabrera reports; to make room we send down Andy Dominique. Since well see four lefties over the next five games, David Ortiz drops his appeal and begins serving his suspension for the batthrowing incident in Anaheim. Millars at DH, McCarty at first and Kapler in rightor would be, except Johnny tells Francona during BP that hes having trouble picking up the ball because of the afternoon sun further lightening the Metrodomes translucent white roof. So Johnny is the least DHlike DH in Sox history, Kaplers in center and Millars in right. Cabreras batting third, which I think is a mistake, but in the first, in his first atbat as a Red Sock, he takes Johan Santana deep. Then in the bottom of the inning he cant handle a chop over Pedros head. Its a tight game, like last nights. Kapler guns Corey Koskie at home, but Tek bobbles the throw and Koskie steamrolls him. Torii Hunter goes back to the wall and casually robs McCarty of a home run. The next inning, McCarty makes a diving stab of a Hunter shot down the line. Manny hits a solo blast to give us the lead again, but the Twins use smallball to scratch back even. To lead off the seventh, Santana hits Tek. To get more pop in their lineup, Matthew LeCroy is catching instead of Blanco, and Tek steals on him. LeCroy wings the ball into centerTek to third. Millar then hits a high, medium fly to right. Center fielder Torii Hunter races over to take it from Jones, since hes got the better arm. Hes in position behind him, but somehow they dont communicate, because Jones never yields. He takes it flatfooted and his throw is up the firstbase line, and Tek scores standing up. Pedros brilliant through seven, striking out 11. Santana goes eight, ringing up 12.


Though Pedros thrown only 101 pitches, Francona goes by the book, bringing in Timlin to set up. Timlin gives up backtoback singles and doesnt record an out. On Embrees first batter, the young slugger Justin Morneau, the Twins pull a double steal. Morneau then skies one to deep rightcenter. Itll tie the game, no doubt. Kapler has to go a long way to make the catch, then fires a nolook throw back toward the infield. It sails over the cutoff man, Bellhorn, and Cabrera runs over from second to corral it. He must look up to check the runner, or maybe he nonchalants it, figuring the plays over, because the ball knocks off his glove, and he kicks itliterally kicks ittoward first base. On a real field, the grass stops the ball, but since were in the Homerdome, it rolls away across the carpet, and by the time Cabrera chases it down and throws home, Lew Fords sliding in safely, and were down 43. Welcome to the Red Sox. Joe Nathan gives us an opening in the ninth, hitting Bellhorn, but we dont bother to bunt him over (hey, why change now). Cabrera strikes out, lunging. Manny hits into an easy 643 turf job, and we lose a carbon copy of last nights game, wasting another quality start. On The Simpsons, Comic Book Guya true loserhas a Red Sox pennant hanging in his shop. I channel him now worst weekend ever. August 2nd When I entered in this diary on July 2nd, wed just been swept out of the Bronx and had fallen eight and a half games back in the AL East. Now, a month later, were nine and a half behind the Yankees, who continue on cruise control. The Yanks dont have much in the way of pitching, but it doesnt seem to matter; they simply whale the tar out of almost every team they go against. The Red Sox are one of the rare exceptions, but they can afford to ignore us, at least for the time being. Who knows, they may not have to worry about us even in October. For the first time this season one teamits the Oakland Athleticsseems to have a solid hold on the wild card. Weve lost both of the games weve played since the big Garciaparra trade, but I actually dont feel too badly about that, even though both wereof the toothrattling onerun variety. For one thing, both of our new players contributed to the offensive effort (okay, okay, so Cabrerawho hit a home run in his first Red Sox atbatalso cost us yesterdays game with an error in the bottom of the eighth). For another, the Twins are very good this year, and Id expect them to take two out of three in their house, just as Id expect us to take two out of three from them in ours. But now we finish the years longest roadtrip playing teams that are either sub.500 or close to .500, and here I agree with the conventional wisdom this is probably the seasons last decisive turningpoint, and Ill be watching these games very, very closely. For the next two weeks its not going to do to just play .500 baseball on the road. Im hoping we can win eight of the next dozen, and from now until the middle of the month, I suspect this diary will be hearing from me often. August 3rd Mark Bellhorn goes on the DL with a thumb fracture after taking that pitch on the hand, joining Pokey, meaning Francona has more platooning to do. The press is on him about the logjam at first. How is he going to keep all of his players happy? I may not have much confidence in Francona, but at least he has the right answer Thats not what were here to do. Last night Wake won on his birthday, a quiet indoor affair with less than 10,000 guests. For tonights game with the DRays Francona pencils in the most alien infield yet Youk at third, Cabrera at short, Bill Mueller at second and Mientkiewicz at first. Dave Roberts starts in right for only the fourth time in his life, and leads off, followed by Cabrera and Johnny. The new speed lineup does nothing, but Tek hits a tworun shot and Bill Mueller knocks in three more from the sixspot. Schilling (a new guy himself, not so long ago) goes the distance, but the posttrade face of the Sox is just weird. August 4th I didnt know how brave I was, asking the Red Sox to win eight of their next twelve, until Jayme Parker (looking cool and beautiful this morning in offtheshoulder black) tells me that the Sox havent won backtoback road games since June. But they managed the trick last night, and now, instead of needing to win eight out of twelve, they only (only!) need to win six out of their next ten. That means playing .600 ball instead of .666, if youre of a statistical bent. Although I havent kept an exact count (You could look it up, I hear Ole Case whispering), Id guess weve got in the neighborhood of fiftyfive games left to play. Eleven of them are with the formerly hapless Devil Rays, and this makes me happy, because the DRays, after running off a gaudy string of wins (almost entirely against National League teams) before the AllStar break, seem to be subsiding into their former state of haplessness, and fast. Manager Lou Piniella rode his horses hard during the streak (ran their dung to water, my wife would say), and now they seem punchless and reeling. Tampa Bay management has done its part to destroy team morale by trading DRays ace and chief workhorse Victor Zambrano to the contending Mets. All of which makes me sorry for them, but not too sorry to take pleasure in Tim Wakefields win two nights ago and Curt Schillings completegame victory last night. Not too sorry to hope that Bronson Arroyo can complete the sweep tonight, either, although I doubt the Rays will let that happen. They aint quite that hapless. SK Two in a row! For the first time since June! Schill gets the completegame win! Manny crashes into the leftfield wall! Plays dead! Arises and hugs the reincarnation of the Lizard King! Film at 11! Go, you old Red Sox! Lou Piniella blew his hosses out in June and July, and we get to ride them spavined old nags eleven more times before the end of the season! Im hoping (praying, actually) that we can take six of the next ten, to make it eight out of twelve after putting the Twins in our rearview mirror. GO, YOU OLD RED SOX! SO After the June Swoon and the July DriveBy, Im a little leery. Who are these guys anyway? I was just getting used to Ricky Gutierrez at short and here comes Cabrera. I almost feel bad for Francona, having to glue together a lineup from these bits and pieces. Thank God for the Devil Rays. But eventually were going to have to beat the Twins. And the Angels. And the White Sox. SK Franconas a dork. And thats true, but first were gonna see the Tigers, who are currently 5056. Id like to finish these six games at 42 and would LOVE to be 51. Wouldnt it be great to get like fourteen or fifteen games over .500? SO The Tigers have been revitalized of late. Dmitri Youngs back from that broken leg, and their young pitchers have turned in some hellacious games, so we better be ready for a scrap. Lets not look past tonight, though. Francona may not know it, but they all count the same. SK I just went to check the game. When I sat down to write this email, everything was okay; we had a threerun lead and Arroyo was cruising. Now were down 54, thanks to a Youkilis error (more damn errors) and a Toby Hall granny. Stewart and Stephen, said the old psychic dwarflady, your nightmare continues. SO And now Dave Roberts just got pegged at home in the ninth with NOBODY OUT, and we lose by a run. Congratulations, Dave, you made the Hall of Sveum on your first try. August 5th Still, we almost got the sweep. Leading 41 in the seventhand cruisingBronson Arroyo gave up a single and a walk. A Kevin Youkilis error loaded the bases for Tampa Bay with no outs. Then catcher Toby Hall, 0 for his last 18, parked one. Make that score 54 Rays, and it stood up. In the Boston half of the ninth, newly acquired Sox speed merchant Dave Roberts, running for Kevin Millar and egged on by thirdbase coach Dale Sveum, tried to tie the score from second on a Doug Mientkiewicz single.The allornothing dash for home is always a thrilling play, but this time it went Tampa Bays way. Center fielder Rocco Baldelli threw a bullet to catcher (and homerun hitter) Toby Hall, who made it easy for the umpire, not letting the willowy Roberts anywhere near the dish. Mientkiewicz got as far as third, then died there when Johnny Damon poppedup to end the game. It was another toothrattling loss (especially since both the Yankees and the Rangers, our current wildcard competition, won their games), but Tampa Bay hasnt been swept at home all year, so all you can do is tip your cap to them and move on. In this case to Motown, where the Tigers wait. Were 21 in the current twelvegame stretch, and Im still hoping to take six of the next nine. I know that sounds steep, but at some point this team just has to start setting some steep goals. And meeting them. SK I couldnt tell from the paper (or the game) if Sveum sent him. I guess he did. (My son Owen sez the same.) SO Sveum sent him, then said afterward that Rocco Baldelli hasnt made a lot of good throws. Only enough to lead the league in outfield assists last year, Dale. SK It was a move reminiscent of Wendell Send Em In Kim. A moment of desperation? A brain cramp? I mean, we could have had guys on first and third with none out! By the way, how many games has this team lost by one run this year? What we have here is a team thats so agonizingly close to being good enoughbut not quite. You heard it here first I dont think were going anywhere but home come October. How I hope they prove me wrong. SO I think he blankedentirely spaced on the situation. And it wasnt like he was sending Ortiz or the Dauber. Even Robertss wheels couldnt make up for it. Were pretty much where we were last year. Just hope the bats come alive, the teams out West knock each other off, and the ChiSox pull their usual swoon. August 6th SO What the hell happened with John Olerud? Seattle was in the cellar and figured theyd dump him and go with a youth movement, I understand that, but I thought they dropped him so they could dangle him in front of teams like the Yanks, hoping George or some other nut would pick up his big salary. Then I read in the paper that the Yanks grabbed him and are paying him the minimum 300K while the Ms are eating 7 mil. Wha? Huh? And Theoin his Defense Is Good modehas been crowing over Mientkiewiczs old Gold Gloves. Oleruds got a closetful of em, plus hes one of the purest hitters to ever play the game. So, if we had to have a fourth first baseman (Dauber being condemned to the fifth circle, called Pawtucket), instead of the crummy Nomar deal we swung, we could have had Olerud for 300K and the time it took to sign him, and then could have maybe gotten a middle relieversetup guy to spell Embree and Timlin, who look tired and beaten out there. SK Ah, but Olerud wouldnt have looked as good to the cannibal Boston press, which will never speak to me again after they read the August portion of my diary. AND I DONT CARE. I mean, do you doubt a bit that Mientkiewicz and Cabrera were, to some extent, PR gestures? SO Butand this is where my forehead starts to pulse like Scannersdidnt we already have a great defensive first baseman in McCarty? And doesnt getting Mientkiewicz now make him totally expendable? I just dont get it. Unless were putting together some weird MGM production number where every utility shortstop on the team fields a grounder and throws to a matching first baseman for a grand, ceremonial 63. SK Amen, brother. Ive been thinking this for two weeks. When we get Varitek playing first, itll be the fooking hattrick. Orlando Cabrera is actually Cesar Crespo by way of Stepford. Yours ever, Ira Levin. Ted Williams disliked and distrusted the Boston sportswriters. His appellation for themThe Knights of the Keyboardwas sarcastic and contemptuous. This doesnt make the Splendid Splinter an aberration but rather the first in a tradition. In the current era, Carl Everett was sent hence from Boston with his ass on fire and the tag Jurassic Carl hanging from his neck. Manager Butch Hobson (never one of my faves, believe me) became knownsarcasticallyas Daddy Butch. Pedro Martinez, a proud and emotional man as well as a wildly talented pitcher, has felt so disrespected by Bostons Knights of the Keyboard that he has on at least two occasions vowed never to speak to the media again (luckily for fans, his natural gregariousness has overcome these resolutions). Dozens of Red Sox players, past and present, could tell horror stories about how theyve been treated by Bostons sportswriters, who now serve just two papers (if you exclude such peripheral rags as the Phoenix and Diehard, that is) the Globe and the Herald. The Globe is the more influential, and by far the more vitriolic. Its most recent acidbath victim has been Nomar Garciaparra. The story being disseminated by the writersDan Shaughnessy leading the packgoes something like this Nomar was never a team player; Nomar was a downer even at the best of times; Nomar had a line in front of his locker to keep the media from getting too close; Nomar told multiple stories about his conversations with Red Sox management before the trade that sent him to the Cubs; Nomar expressed doubts about how much of the regular season hed be able to play because of the injury to his Achilles tendon. (This last is supposed to help we poor benighted fans understand how Theo Epstein could have traded one of baseballs five premier infielders for what boils down to a pair of journeymen with good defensive skills.) And yesterday, more dirt According to the Globe, Nomar may have lied about how he came by that sore foot in the first place. In spring training we were toldby Nomarthat the injury was the result of a batted ball. Now, according to the Globe, Nomar is supposed to have told somebody or other that the injury cropped up on its own. If so, yesterdays story went on to speculate, he may have confabulated the whole battedball story in order to keep his market value from going down in his walk year. Because you can heal from an injury, right? But if your body starts to give out on youthats a different deal altogether. And the source or sources of thisstory? Do you even have to ask? Not named. Little more than backfence gossip, in other words, just one more yap of the fox who wants to believe that, oh yeah, those grapes were sour anywayand by the way, that bigdeal shortstop all the kids love? What a hoser! What a busher! And if Nomar Garciaparra tells his Chicago teammates not to okay a trade to Boston if they can possibly prevent it, no way, under no circumstances, because in Boston the sportswriters eat the local heroes in print and then shit out the bones on cable TV, who could blame them? Ill bet right now Mr. Garciaparra is feeling especially wellchewed. And why are the Boston sportswriters this way during baseball seasonso angry, so downright catdirt meanwhen they are, by and large, pretty normal during the other three seasons of the sports year (football, basketball, hockey)? I think it goes back to the basic subtext of this book, that the Red Soxlike the Cubsare the derelicts of major league baseball, ghost ships adrift and winless in the mythic horse latitudes of sports legend. That may sound sweet to the poets and to writers like John lyric little bandbox Updike,but sportswriters want winners, sportswriters want their bylines under headlines like SOX TAKE SERIES IN 6, and this eightysixyear dry spell justmakesthemFURIOUS. They wont admit it, not hardheaded Damon Runyon archetypes such as they, but underneath it all theyre hurt little boys who have been eating loserdust for much of their professional lives and they justfuckingHATE IT. Can they take it out on management? On Theo Epstein and mildmannered, bespectacled John Henry? They cannot. Those fellows do not put on uniforms and swing the lumber. Alsoand more importantlythose fellows are responsible for who gets pressbox credentials, field credentials, and who gets to belly up to the postgame buffet. So, by and large, management gets a pass.Except, of course, for the poor unfortunate middlemanagement schmucks who fill out the lineup cards, guys like Terry Francona, Grady Little, Jimy (family so poor they could only afford a single m in his first name) Williams, Daddy Butch Hobson, and Tollway Joe Morgan. And Nomar. Him, too. That selfish guy. That downer. That liar. That guy who took the money, ran off to Chicago, and left the kids crying. Its all bullshit, of course, and in their inksmudged hearts, the Knights of the Keyboard know it. But Boston sportswriters are for the most part mangy, distempered, sunstruck dogs that can do nothing but bite and bite and bite. In a way you cant even blame them. They are as much at the mercy of the long losing streak as the fans who buy their tickets at the window or pony up for NESN on cable TV. Sooner or latermaybe even this year, I havent given up hope, even yet I am still faithfulthe Sox will win it all, and this infected boil will burst. I think all of us will be happier when it does. Certainly we will be more rational. Later, after a quiet 43 loss to the Tigers SK I admit it after the third Detroit base runner reached with none out, I left the room. Simply could no longer bear to watch. Andbetween me and you?a lot of this really is just daffyhorrible luck. Derek Lowe hasnt been the only recipient, but he has surely gotten the biggest helping. Last year, the second two batters are harmless ground outs, and were up 10, Detroit batting with a runner on first and two out. Oh, this is maddening. Why why why did I ever let you talk me into this? SO I watched every dribbling, seeingeye single. That third base runner was a ball Cabrera couldnt get a handle on. Thank you, Defense Minister Theo. I also have no idea why Franconas got OCab batting third. Hes hitting something like .100. Youve got to have some luck to win the close ones (and some defense, some speed, a bullpen). In answer to your earlier query as to how weve done in onerun games were now 715. Wasted a great game from Tekan honest triple, a mammoth tater and then gunning down Carlos Pena to bail out new guy Mike Myers (really, thats his name) in the eighth. Three runs against Detroit? Thats anemic. Come back, Big Papi! Its worse than maddening, and I apologize for dragging you to the death prom. My lament, as a citizen of the Nationlike an injured loveris why why WHY are they doing this to us? August 7th Ive suggested that the team needed to play .750 ball in its twelvegame stretch against losing opponents; Boston is playing the same old soso wakemewhenitsover road baseball instead. After three matches in Tampa Bay and one in Detroit, the Yankees have sailed over the horizon and even the wild card lookswell, it still looks perfectly possible, but we look less deserving of it, okay? We look about a run short, and Im not talking about the run we lost by last night, or not just that one. Im talking about the game we lost to Tampa Bay by a run, and the two we lost to the Twinseach also by a single run. Thats four onerun losses in a row. This team has played an amazing number of games this season that have been decided by one run twentytwo so far. The only number more amazing is the number of them weve lost fifteen. Let me write that in bold strokes so we can both be sure of it 15 GAMES LOST BY A SINGLE RUN. At least two of those onerun losses were to the leagueleading Yankees. And we had another one of those basesloadedwithtwoout nightmares last night. Again and again this year the Red Sox have failed to produce in that situation. Versus the Tigers, Kevin Youkilis did manage to snare a walk (he is, after all, the Greekaw, never mind), temporarily tying the score for the tragickal Mr. Lowe. That brought up Orlando Cabrera, onehalf of Theo Epsteins replacement for Nomar Garciaparra. Cabrera, who is pressing at the plate and looking more and more like a Stepford Cesar Crespo clone, struck out on three pitches, two of them well out of the strike zone, and that was the end of our one big chance. The Sox went meekly in the top of the ninth, as they have all too often this year, and now taking eight out of twelve means taking six out of eight. It can be done, but I doubt it can be done by this team. SK The game is looking very shaky into the seventh. I hate the way this season is going. SO We did finally pull away from the Tigers tonight, but youre right. The way the seasons going seems to be lose, Pedro, lose, Schill, lose. Except when Timmay throws in the Trop or Arroyo faces the Yanks. Or Lowes every third start. When are we going to put together a decent streak? At least El Jefes back (and dont you know, Manny comes down with the flu). August 9th It was a good weekend for the Faithful. Pedro Martinez won pretty on Saturday and Tim Wakefield won ugly on Sunday.In their current important twelvegame stretch against underachieving clubs, Boston now stands at 42. Only a churl would point out that they could be 60. (I am, of course, that churl.) We have moved into a threeway tie for the wild card with two of the AL Western Division clubs (the Angels and the Rangers), and that is a marked improvement over where we were a week ago. Ill take it. But any longtime follower of the Red Sox will tell you that when the teams cheek grows rosy, the almost automatic response is for someone, either in the media or in the organization itself, to slap a leech on it. In this case the leeching has to do with Kevin Millars comments about his playing time and the constantly shifting nature of the teams makeup. Millars pique over not being in the lineup for the August 7th game against the Tigers (Here I am, riding the old benchola) is just silly, especially since he ended up being a lastminute add to Franconas card. But pro athletes arent known for their statesmanlike qualities, and in other baseball markets such comments usually go unpublished. If they are published, theyre apt to becan you believe this?snickered at. Not inBoston, though; in Boston, Millars pregame grousing was treated by postgame commentators Tom Caron and Sam Horn as grave news, indeed; the preachments of Osama Ben Millar. The part of Millars comments which was not addressedeither on the Red Soxauthorized NESN broadcast or in the predictably antiplayer Boston Globewas his perfectly correct and uncomfortably astute assertion that this years Red Sox team has no identity, and its that lack which has so slowed the teams quest for a postseason berth, one we all thought would be a slam dunk at the start of the season. (To be ten and a half games behind the Yankees with a team this talented is just flatout ridiculous.) The 2004 Boston Red Sox has no face. And its not Nomar Garciaparra I miss in this context. Oddly enoughor perhaps not so oddly at allits Trot Nixon I miss, Nixon whose intensity can be seen even in the dogdumb ads he does for Red SoxNESN license plates. Every time he stares into the camera with those burning eyes and says, We think of it as a tagandrelease programso we can keep an eyeon YOU, I wish to God he wasnt on the DL. Never mind Red Ryder; when ya comin back, Trotter? We may need you to pull our irons out of the fire yet. August 10th The key to every sportto every endeavor in life, maybeis consistency, and nowhere is that more apparent than in team defense. Football, soccer, baseball, hockey, basketballall team defense is based on the premise that each player knows where his or her fellow players are, and can rely on teammates to cover either territory or opposing players he or she cant. In the major leagues this assumes that each player knows his teammates capabilities and habits, a familiarity that can only come from playing side by side game after game until this knowledge becomes second nature and can be acted on with the speed of reflex. Example pop fly down the rightfield line. First baseman fades straight back, second baseman angles in from the left, right fielder comes on hard. If the balls high and deep enough, its the right fielders, since the plays in front of him. If its low and shallow, the first baseman has to make an overtheshoulder catch running away from the plate. If its medium, in nomansland, usually the second baseman, having the most speed and the best glove (as well as quarterbacking the inbetween play), has to flash across and get it. Ideally, each fielder has played with the other two enough to know both what theyre capable of and what theyll do. One right fielder may have difficulty getting in on a ball (Millar, the injured Trot) that another (Kapler, Roberts) should catch easily. Likewise, one second baseman may have no problem making a play in foul ground (Pokey) that another has no shot at (Mark Bellhorn, Bill Mueller), while yet another has maybe a 50 chance (Ricky Gutierrez). Some first basemen dont go back well (Ortiz, Millar) and some do (Mientkiewicz, McCarty); with Andy Dominique, its hard to say, since hes only played a handful of innings at first, the same way Dauber only played a couple games at first or in the outfield, or Cesar Crespo at second and short, or in right, center, or left. And beyond simple ability, theres the confusing factor of personality. Some fielders are aggressive and dash after every inbetween ball whether they can make the play or not (Manny, weirdly), while others hang back till the last second, letting others take charge (Kapler, sadly). Does Doug Mientkiewicz have a good feel for the combination of Bill Mueller and Gabe Kapler as they converge on a dying quail with men on late in a close game? For Ricky Gutierrez and David McCarty? Ricky Gutierrez and Dave Roberts? Bill Mueller and Kevin Millar? Bill Mueller and Dave Roberts? Impossible, considering how little theyve played together. Mientkiewicz is still feeling his way into the defense, the same way Bill Muellers doing his best to acclimate at second base. At best its guesswork. Multiply that uncertainty by the number of odd and new combinations in the field (McCarty in left, Youkilis at third and Orlando Cabrera at short all vying for a ball down the line in Fenway where the stands jut out; or Cabrera and Bill Mueller going back on a flare with Roberts, Johnny or Kapler racing in from center) and add in the memory of the seldomused Damian Jackson ranging back farther than last years regular second baseman Todd Walker ever could and knocking Johnny out, and youve got a patchwork defense that lets balls drop. Part of the problem is injuries, obviously, and part is the pre and midseason missteps by upper management (never getting a serious replacement for Trot, loading up on platoon first basemen and shortstops to no apparent purpose), but Francona has to take all of that into account and at least try to put a defense out on the field that can work towards becoming comfortable with each other. Until he does, well continue to be inconsistent, and to hurt pitchers like Wake and Lowe, who have to rely on competent glovework behind them to win. August 11th The Red Sox and the Devil Rays have split in Bostons first two games back at Fenway, and were now 53 in the twelvegame stretch Ive elected to put under the microscopethe twelve games leading up to the stretch drive. Boston hasnt made it easy on itself, losing the first game of the final road series against Detroit and the first game of the home stand against Tampa Bay, but the Sox have managed to win their last two series, and they won again last night. Bronson Arroyo looks more and more comfortable in his role as a starter (and thank Christ he finally shaved off that horrible sandcolored thing on his chin). Tampa Bays Toby Hall beat Arroyo with an improbable grand slam in his last start, but in last nights game Arroyo mixed his pitches better and got more ground balls. Also, Terry Francona, who is right every once in a while,lifted him while he was merely toasty instead of completely baked. There is a difference. Today theres a threeway tie for the wild card (Texas, Anaheim, Boston), and tonight the tragickal Mr. Lowe will lug his topheavy 5.50 ERA to the mound against Tampa Bays Dewon Brazelton, with a tidy little ERA of 2.56. This may be one of those gutcheck games that seem to mean hardly anything at the time and actually mean more when you look for the point where a team either started to kick it into gearor didnt. August 12th Boston kicked it into gear, all right. Especially Kevin Millar. Millar seems to have decided that if the Red Sox need identity, hell supply it. In last nights game against the Devil Rays, he went 4 for 4, with two singles, a double, and a threerun shot into the Monster seats, setting the pace as Boston pounded out 15 hits and routed Tampa Bay 144. The man who gave the 2003 Red Sox their lateseason sloganCowboy upis battingsomething ridiculous like .470 for the month of August31 for his last 66. With numbers like that, he can perhaps be excused for bitching about having to ride the old benchola. We have one more game against the tasty Devil Raystoday at one oclockbefore tougher meat comes to town the Chicago White Sox, currently a game above .500. Boston stands at 63 in the current twelvegame stretch, and if we could beat Tampa Bay behind Pedro this afternoon, wed only have to top the ChiSox once to finish 84, as I had hoped we would. Meantime, in the wildcard racechillun, we have sole possession. For today, at least. Later After writing that, I shut down the computer and head for southern New Hampshire to visit old friends (hes the physicians assistant who has helped me with medical stuff in a dozen books, most notably The Stand and Pet Sematary, shes a retired nurse who has reached a hardwon truce in her war with cancer). We have lunch on the patio, a lot of good food and good talk (maybe only horror writers and medical people can reminisce fondly about heart attack patients they have known). We promise well stay in closer touch, and maybe we even will. Starting the 140mile drive back to western Maine, I remember that the Sox are playing the rare weekday afternoon game. I cant find it on the FM; nothing there but rock music and what a friend of mine calls macrobiotic talk shows. On the AM, however, I find it crackling through the static on WEEI, the selfproclaimed Red Sox flagship station, and am delighted to discover that Boston is winning handily. My man Kevin Youkilis kicked off the days festivities, swatting one over everything and into the Manny Zone, aka Lansdowne Street. At the one end of the East Coast, TampaSt. Pete is girding its loins for the arrival of tropical storm Bonnie and the more dangerous Hurricane Charlie. At this end, the Tampa Bay Devil Rays have run into Hurricane Pedro. He almost always pitches well against the DRays, but he hasnt thrown this well inwhat? Three years? Four? Its a hot, muggy afternoon in what Mainers sometimes call New Hamster. Due to road construction, the two eastbound lanes of Highway 101 are down to one, and the traffic is bumpertobumper. A roadworker points at me, shakes his head, and draws a thumb across his throat. It takes me a minute to realize its almost certainly my truck hes pointing atspecifically to the bumper sticker on the tailgate readingSOMEWHERE IN TEXAS A VILLAGE IS MISSING ITS IDIOT. All of this should conspire to put me in a foul mood, but Im as happy as a kitten in a catnip factory. Pedro goes nine innings and strikes out 10 (in the postgame he admits to Joe Castiglione and Jerry Trupiano that in his old age hes come to appreciate quick groundball outs and tenpitch innings as much as the Ks). Were now 73 over the last ten games, we need only to split the next two with Chicago to finish the Dirty Dozen at 84, and as of today theres a games worth of sunshine between us and the Anaheim Angels in the wildcard race.


Best of all, though, the last few innings of the game lightened what otherwise would have been a very tiresome drive through heavy traffic, and I think thats really what baseball is for, especially baseball on the radiowhich is, as Joe Castiglione says in his book Broadcast Rites and Sites, the last bastion of the spoken image. Or something like that. As Ole Case used to say, You could look it up. August 14th The Red Sox didnt make it easy (that has never been a part of the deal with them), but they managed to finish the twelvegame stretch that began on August 2nd at exactly 84. The opener in the current series against the White Sox was another onerun loss, and tonights game began badly, with Curt Schilling giving up consecutive solo home runs to Timo Perez and Carlos Lee almost before the last notes of the national anthem had died away. But in this game the Red Sox played flawless defense (the highlight was a sliding, twisting, skidding catch in foul territory by Kevin Youkilis, who almost ended up in the White Sox dugout), and you have to admire Curt Schilling, a pitcher whose facealong with those of Bob Gibson and Sandy Koufax, maybeought to grace the cover of the Old School Baseball Encyclopedia. Following the home runs, he surrendered only one more hit until the sixth. By then the Red Sox had tied the game on backtoback solo home runs of their own, one by Manny Ramirez and one by David Big Papi Ortiz. Papi came up again in the bottom of the eighth, after Ramirez had struck out looking on three pitches. By then Schilling was done for the evening, but still eligible for the win if the Red Sox could pull ahead. Ortiztook care of his pitcher, dumping one into the fourth or fifth row of seats beyond the bullpen in right center. It wasnt quite as mighty as his earlier rocket, but there was still no doubt when it left the bat. I have never seen such a big man who is able to generate such sudden power, not even Mo Vaughn. God knows how long it will last, but Red Sox fans have been blessed to watch it over the last two seasons, and Ortiz may be having an MVP year. Keith Foulke came on in the top of the ninth. My wife had gone to bed by then, and that was probably just as well; when Foulke walked Chicagos leadoff hitter on five pitches, my state of jangled nerves approached real terror. It was all too easy to see this one slipping away. Foulke took the mound with 18 saves, not a lot for a club thats now approaching the 65win mark, and very few of those saves have come in onerun situations. Tonight, however, just enough of Schillings toughman air seemed to linger on the mound to carry Foulke through. After the walk came a popup, after the popup came two strikeouts, the last on a faltering halfswing at a changeup by Juan Uribe, and presto, Dirty Water was playing over the PA system. Pedro Martinez was first out of the dugout, giving high fives with what appeared to be a fungo bat. One final note the Yankees beat the Mariners this afternoon, maintaining their bonecrushing tenandahalfgame lead in the AL East and winning their 75th game of the year with August not yet half over. They are on a pace to win 110 games, perhaps more. This is more than unreal; this is surreal. August 16th Ten in the morning and I have no idea who won the game last night. Were at camp, away from TV and computers and even the newspaper. The director usually posts the barebones scores on a wall in the dining hall (often with a synopsis of the Pirate game), but today hes bumped them for the Olympics. Yesterday, anticipating this, I shelled out five bucks for the modern equivalent of a transistor radio and listened to the Indians and Twins afternoon game from the Jake, but last night at bedtime I couldnt catch a roundtheleague wrapup. Weve been gone a week now, and this is the first time I havent naturally run across a score. While we were at my dads cottage on Lake Chautauqua, Wakes sixhomer win over the DRays made the Jamestown paper, complete with a photo of Timmay. The Buffalo TV news at eleven featured our next game, since a local family threw out the first pitch in memory of their son, a high school star and Sox fan, dead of cancer, whod dreamed of playing at Fenway. Most nights Id get just a score and then have to wait for the morning paper to fill me in, though during one newscast after the Bisons beat Pawtucket, we were treated to the Real Deal Player of the Game going deep twice against a skinny submariner wearing number 15the elusive Mr. Kim. A straight score, lumped with others from around the league, is flat and paralyzing. If we win, its great for about twenty seconds, then Im pissed that I dont know how we won, or why. A loss is awfulirrefutable, infuriatingand terrible for about a minute, until I realize that I dont know anything about the game, not even who pitched. Its a mindless, uninvolved way to follow baseball, almost zero content, as if the game is just about winning or losing. We dont watch a lot of TV at Chautauqua (getting only two snowy channels will do that), so inevitably I fell a day behind, picking up the paper and dissecting last nights box score, looking for signs. Manny was finally back; Trot and Pokey and Bellhorn werent. Cabrera continued to struggle at the plate. Bill Mueller, still playing out of position, made another error. Terrible Terry Adams put men on and Mendoza let them in, while Takatsu, the White Sox reliever, inherited three runners and stranded them. Even uglier, their seven and eight hitters combined for 7 RBIs. Sometimes its fun to puzzle out backwards what happened, but even a box score is cold matter, a map to treasure already dug up. Stanley Kubrick, insulated in his compound in the English countryside, used to have an assistant here in the States tape the playoffs and World Series so he could devour them at his leisure, and while I admire Kubricks taste (and appetite), watching a game thats long been over, and watching alone, seems to leach the immediacy from what is essentially a shared experience. Ideally, I want to be at the game, reacting to every pitch and situation as part of the loud, honesttoGod crowd; short of that Ill join the farflung (and far from imaginary) audience all across New England watching Don and Jerry or listening to Joe and Troop or Uri Berenguer and J. P. Villaman, knowing that when David Ortiz cranks one, citizens of the Nationfrom the capital of Fenway to the borderlands of the Northeast Kingdom and the Dominicanare hollering like idiots the same as I am. A box score or even a decent recap cant show me what kind of location Lowe has, or how much of a lead Dave Roberts is getting. I need to see it now, before what happens happens. So this is limbo, not knowing anything until its already over (and even then not knowing the results from Anaheim or Oakland). All I can say, today, is that in midAugust were solidly in the wildcard race, and possibly in the lead, and that, from all evidence, as a team were having the exact same problems we had two months agothe same problems, really, we had last year. August 17th I need to go back to the Garciaparra trade again, and it probably wont be for the last time. Its going to be one of the big Red Sox stories of the year, certainly the big story if this wounded, limping, patchedtogether teamdoesnt make postseason (or even if it does but doesnt advance). When we got Doug Mientkiewicz and Orlando Cabrera in return for Nomar, we were assured by management that this was a lot more than trademania, the equivalent of the crazy buying that goes on at the annual Filenes Wedding Sale. We were plugging defensive holes. In addition to that, Cabreras .246 batting average was deceiving; he was a doubles machine. Right, and we won in Vietnam; mission accomplished in Iraq. Mientkiewicz, although not used as an everyday player by Terry Francona, has played solid, unflashy baseball for Boston, and no surprise there; as a Minnesota Twin hes played on plenty of contending teams, and hes used to the pressure. Cabrera is a different story. Players who come from forgotten teams (and surely the Montreal Expos are the forgotten team) either blossom or shrivel when they come to contending teams and pressurecooker venues like Boston; Cabrera has so far done the latter. The press has been patient with him, but youd expect that; in Boston most of those guys shill for management, and while they have no problem making Nomar look bad, theyd love his replacement to look good so they can say, See? Hes great. Toldja. More interesting to mealso more surprising and endearinghas been the fans patience with Cabrerawho probably helped himself enormously by hitting a home run in his first atbat in the Red Sox uniform. None since, though, and his Montreal batting average of .246 has shrunk to something like .225. Worse, he hasnt looked like anyones idea of a Gold Glover at shortstop. Last night, in Bostons game against Torontothe first of a threegame setCabrera racked up a pair of RBIs, one on a base hit and one on a sac fly. Then, in an agonizing, rainsoaked seventh inning that seemed to go on forever, he gave them both back plus one to grow on with two boxscore errors and a third, mental, error that allowed a run which should have been kept right where it was, at third base. Cabreras hitting in the clutch has been nonexistent. In the game previous to last nightsthe final game of the Red SoxWhite Sox seriesCabrera ended things by grounding softly back to the pitcher, leaving the tying run stranded at third after the Red Sox had battled back from a multirun deficit. So in last nights game I was a little saddened but not really surprised to hear the first scattered boos in the raindepleted crowd when Cabrera came up following his seventhinning follies, which turned a 51 Red Sox cruise into a 54 nailbiter against the American Leagues bottom dogs. The crowd wants him to be good, and I have no doubt that he isno doubt that Terry Francona is exactly right when he says that Cabrera (who, unlike Mientkiewicz, plays every day) is pressing at the platebut I also have no doubt that the Nomar trade has already cost this Red Sox team at least three games it could ill afford to lose, and that it will quite likely cost them more unless Orlando Cabrera quickly finds his stride. Im not man enough to predict that the Sox will win eight of the current twelve, but they could, with half of the next dozen coming against the abysmal Blue Jays and two more against the only slightly better Tigers. And they should, if they are to retain their position as the team to beat in the wildcard race, and perhaps even put some distance between themselves and the other contending teams. But the injury situation continues to grow worse rather than better; with Youkilis down, we were last night treated to the bizarre sight of Doug Mientkiewicz playing second base for the first time in his life. And, aside from getting knocked down once by Carlos Delgado, he did a damned good job. One final note as the season wears on, I find it easier and easier to spell Mientkiewicz. People can adjust to just adamnbout anything, cant they? August 18th Having said all that, let me tell you that no one in all of Red Sox Nation was any happier than I was when Orlando Cabrera finally did come through in the clutch, turning on an 86 mph Justin Speier changeup and clanging it off the scoreboard in the bottom of the ninth inning last night, chasing Johnny Damon home with the winning run in the second game of Bostons current series against the Toronto Blue Jays. Fenway giveth and Fenway taketh away. In the first game of the series, it tooketh away bigtime from Mr. Cabrera. Last night, that funky justright bounce gaveth back, and I went dancing around my living room, singing the Gospel According to K.C. and the Sunshine Band Thats the way (uhhuh, uhhuh) I like it. Does this mean I think the Garciaparra trade is suddenly, magically okay? No. But I was rooting for Cabrera to come throughnot just for the Red Sox but for Cabrera as a Red Sock? You bet your tintype. Because, no matter what I or any other fan might think of the trade, the deal is done and Cabreras one of us now; he wears the red and white. So, sure, I root for him. Thus, hooray, Orlando. May you clang a hundred more off that funky old scoreboard. Welcome to Fenway Park. Welcome home. August 21st SO Guess whos back, back again SK Considering that the Red Sox have won 11 of their last 16, maybe you ought to go back where you were, and I mean find the EXACT SPOT. It was especially great to see Cabrera connect on that crazy wallball carom doublelike something out of a psychedelic Pong gameto win the game Monday night. And then there was Big Papi hulking down on Lil Massa Lily White [Toronto starter Ted Lilly, who plunked Ortiz on the hand]. Too much fun! SO Ive missed so much. A friend tells me that in one game Francona started Mientkiewicz at second. Is he shittin me? SK Nope. And Dougie played genius. It hasnt been Bostons best week (I firmly believe that this seasons best weeks are still ahead of them), but were riding our fifth fourgame winning streak of the season, and if we win again this afternoon, the Red Sox will be proud possessors of their fourth fivegame winning streak of the season. Theres better news Ive lost track of All My Children almost completely, and am hoping that when my viewing habits once more regularize on that front, the child of Babe and the odious JR will be in middle school and developing problems of his own (kids on soap operas grow up fast). August has certainly been the best month of the season for the Red Sox, and the team couldnt have picked a better time to get hot. There isnt a lot of wildcard competition on the horizon in the Central Division, but with the exception of the Mariners (now better than twenty games off the pace), the West is a shark tank. For the last week or so, all the sharksOakland, Anaheim, and Texashave been feeding on their weaker Midwestern brothers, and all of them have been winning.One of these clubs will win the division. The other twoalong with the Red Soxare swimming fulltilt at a door only big enough to admit one of them. I comfort myself with thoughts of the schedule, which will eventually force the sleek sharks of the Western Division to begin dining upon each other. The Yankees, in the meantime, have finally begun to falter a bit as their pitching arms become more and more suspect (may I noteand not without gleethat their trade for Esteban Loaiza is looking especially doubtful; there are already trade rumors floating around). Theyve lost three out of their last fourthe one win an almost miraculous comefrombehinder against the Twinsand while I dont think anyone among the Red Sox Faithful are counting on a total Yankee el floppo (but how sweet it wouldbe), Id guess that few among us are unaware that the New York lead, which was ten and a half ten days ago, has now shrunk to seven and a half. Still a lot, but on August 21st, seven and a half games doesnt seem like an insurmountable lead. August 22nd Im addicted to the Little League World Series the way a college hoop junkie craves March Madness. Every game is high drama, and you never know what to expect. Tonight we switch back and forth between the Sox and the Lincoln, Rhode Island, team, and after a while, like the end of Animal Farm, its hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. Both survive late scares. The kids defense falls apart in the sixth. In Chicago, the Sox are up a run in the eighth, thanks to backtoback jacks by Manny and David, when Manny goes to plant himself under an easy fly, slips on the wet grass, recovers, then slips again, and the ball falls behind him. Timlin gets us out of it and Foulke closes, looking sharp. The Angels have swept the Yanks, and the Rangers finally lost, so were five and a half back in the East and a game up in the wild card. And the New England kids win. This is terrificwe beat the White Sox again, making us 51 in our last six games. The Rangers also won, but the tradeoff is that the Yankees took another drubbing from the Angels (and at the Stadium, heehee), meaning that the New York lead is down another full game. Knowing that their team has lost almost half their seemingly insurmountable lead in the space of a week cannot make Yankee fans happy. (That lead probably is insurmountable, but north of Hartford the only thing we love more than seeing the pinstripers have a bad week is seeing them have two bad weeks.) The Red Sox have scored 20 runs against the White Sox in the last two games. Varitek is thumping the ball, and so is Millar, but I think the big offensive story in Chicago has been Manny Ramirez. Hes been sluggish at the plate since the AllStar break, but in the last two games hes shown a return to the batting brilliance that made him such a catch for us in the first place. He hit the 16th grand slam of his career in the second inning of the Friday night game (August 20th) and added a threerun job yesterday. He has a total of 9 RBIs in the two games. To this you should add in Mannys glovework, especially back home in Boston, where he has become more and more comfortable with the eccentricitiesof left field at Fenway, a position that has made strong baseball players cry. Manny has gotten a reputation as a bad defensive baseball player and will almost certainly carry it with him for his entire career (the only people less likely than baseball fans to change their minds about a player are other players, coaches and, of course, Ted Williamss Knights of the Keyboard), but he has mastered the knack of playing the carom off the Green Monster in such a way as to hold runners at first (the worldfamous wallball single), and he has made some brilliant, fearless catches, especially going to his right, into the Twilight Zone territory beyond third base where the wall is hard and foul territory is measured in mere inches. Hes no Yaz, but is he at least the equal of Mike Greenwell, and maybe a little better? Our survey says yes. And damn, aint he a likable cuss! That wasnt always the case in Cleveland, where Manny had a reputation for taciturnity (he rarely did interviews), standoffishness and laziness. In Boston, Manny always seems to be smiling, and it is a beautiful smile, boyish and somehow innocent. He hustles, and the camera frequently catches him goofing with his teammates in the dugout (in one beautifully existential contrast, the viewer sees Curt Schilling studiously poring over paperwork while Manny mugs crazily over his shoulder). He has even done a shoe commercial which has its own brand of goofy Manny Ramirez charm. Some of the change from Growly Manny to Dont Worry, Be Happy Manny may have to do with the Dominican Mafia that, simply by chance, now surrounds him cheerybynature players like Pedro Martinez and David Ortiz. Some of it may be a kind of weird alchemy in Mannys lungs he pulls in the baleful, mediapoisoned air of Boston and exhales his own brand of nonchalant good cheer in its place. I actually sort of buy this, because not even the trade rumors that swirled around him in the offseason changed Manny as we have come to know him he comes to work, he does his job, and if the Red Sox win, he gives a postgame interview in which he shakes his head and says, We gotta jus keep goin, man, you know? We got another sees wees in the season and we gotta jus keep goin. One of the reasons Id like the Red Sox to win the World Series is so I can see if Manny would say We gotta jus keep goin, man in his postgameinterview, if hes that much on cruise control. Probably not, but Im sure hed smile, and that smile is worth a thousand dollars. SK Admit it You stole The Scream. It reminded you of how you felt in Game 7 versus the Yankees in last years ALCS. SO I stole it and shipped it to Billy Buck, whos staring at it right now, nailed up on the wall of his shack in deepest Aryan Idaho. Edvard Munch was a Sox fana ChiSox fan. Talk about tanking they were in first on July 26th; since then theyve gone 819. Its not that the Twins have played great ball, its just a flatout collapse. Whens the last time we swept them in Comiskey? SK Been quite a few years. Its nice to feel happy again about the Red Sox, isnt it? If only for a while. SO You were dead right about how nice it would be getting 15 games over .500, but I sure didnt count on the As, Rangers and Angels ALL streaking alongside of us. Theres four cars and the tunnels only two lanes. SK All is well as can be here, and Manny is stroking the shit out of the ball. Check out Chip McGraths Lost Cause piece in todays New York Times Magazine. Good for a giggle, I think. Or a snort of disgust. SO I expect its about the Yanks el foldo act the last three (make it four) years running. SK Can you believe the Yankees lost five games in one week??? I went to bed thinking, If I was Joe Torre, Id say, This is why you like the big leadyou can go through a tough stretch like this and still be on top.  I got up this morning and damned if that wasnt just what the Skip said. What our Skip said was that when Manny dropped the pop, he swallered half his plug of tobacco. Served him right. SO Ol Joes got the luxury of a sixman rotation and all the bench support George can buy, so he doesnt have to sweat September. October, thoughIf they choke again, there are going to be some changes. Imagine if the heavily favored Sox blew three consecutive postseasons. Why, thered be talk of a curse. Id like to see a reel with all of Mannys wildlights. Hes like Charlie Brown out thereor Pig Pen. And I aint gonna say it, but you know what that plug o chaw resembles, halfin and halfout of Terrys mouth? Ayuh. SK My last bit in the August section is about MannyManny at the bat and Manny in the field, and how his bad fielding is a misperception. I think youll be amused. SO Im sure itll be a hoot. Wonder if well agree. Mannys about style, and I can dig that, but sometimes that feigned nonchalance leads to real goofs, like not running out pops down the line that end up falling fair, or forgetting how many outs there are. Hes got a good arm, but he loves to do that cool nolook throw from the corner so much that often he doesnt get enough zip on the ball and ends up rainbowing one in. And of course my favorite was when he forgot to call time after a double, stepped off second and got tagged out. But hey, its all part of being Manny. August 23rd SK In the Times piece about the Yankees lost weekend, there is, so help me God, this line Meanwhile, the Red Sox loom. So take that, Chip McGrath. Curt Schilling calls the Lincoln, Rhode Island, Little League team to give them a pep talk before their game tonight. The kids and their coaches are gathered around a speakerphone on a table. Everyones pumped. Are you gonna win it? Schill asks. Yeah! everyone says. And then one kida skinny little jokerleans over the phone and asks, Are you? Just as the room busts up (theres no more explosive laughter than nervous laughterVincent Price Masque of the Red Death laughter), the ESPN crawl at the bottom of the screen reads GARCIAPARRA (CHINL) OUT WITH STRAINED WRIST. The advantage we have in the wild card is that with the unbalanced schedule the teams in the West will be facing one another while we feast on scrubs like the Jays and DRays. Tonight we plan to cash in, throwing Pedro against Ted Lilly in the mostly empty SkyDome. Reed Johnson leads off the Toronto first with a home run. Orlando Hudson follows with a triple. Again, Pedros come out like his brother Ramon, as if hes not warmed up to game speed. He settles down after that and throws a great game, only giving up two more hits, but Lillys on, and with our lack of righty power (and Tek serving his suspension for shoving ARod), he shuts us down, 30, a threehit complete gameonly the second shutout against us (Jason Schmidts is the other). The Yanks beat Cleveland on a Sterry Sheffield home run, and the Angels won to pull even with us. And the kids from Rhode Island lost. August 24th This is a true adventure in surrealism Im in Boston (exploring possibilities for a musical play with John Mellencamp) and the Red Sox are in Toronto (exploring possibilities for extending their season into October). Tim Wakefield, the pitcher whos closest to the center of this Red Sox fans heart, is on the hill, and I keep running out to check with Ray, my longtime limo driver, whos parked in a loading zone and listening to the game on the radio. At first things dont go well; for most of the season Wakefields had problems with the gopher ball, and he gives up another in the first. The Jays keep pecking and are leading 30 when the Red Sox begin to crawl back, courtesy of Manny We gotta jus keep goin, man Ramirez, who plates a couple with a base hit to center. Then Doug Mirabelli, who regularly catches Wakefield (and will be standing in for Jason Varitek this week while Tek finishes serving his fourgame suspensionfor the brawl with Alex Rodriguez), hits a monster threerun homer to left center, putting the Sox up, 53. Im headed back to my hotel with Ray when Wake leaves the game. At that point the Red Sox still lead by two, but the Blue Jays have loaded the bases with nobody out. Enter Mike Timlin, who strikes out twoand then we lose WEEIs AM signal amid the tall buildings. Ray and I sit, not speaking, at a seemingly endless red light, listening to static. When we get rolling again and the static finally clears, I hear the merry voices of the Giant Glass singers (Who do you call when your windshields busted?), and know that Timlin either gave up a disastrous multibase hit and is being replacedthe barn door securely locked by Terry Francona after the horse has been stolenor he actually wriggled out of it. When the game comes back on, the Red Sox are batting. It turns out that Timlin coaxed Alex Rios, the third batter to face him, into hitting a mild ground ball. Ray and I slap hands, and were back at the Boston Harbor Hotel before the Red Sox have finished batting. I rush upstairs, ready to watch the final inning of what turns out to be another onerun nailbiter on TVonly to discover that the Boston Harbor may be the only hotel in the Boston metro area that doesnt carry NESN. No Red Sox on TV, in other words. I try the radio. Nothing on the FM but opera and Aerosmith, nothing on the AM band but one constant blat of static. I do the only reasonable thing, under the circumstances; I call my son in New Hampshire and have him call the final three batters Joe Castiglionestyle over the phone. It feels like bad mojothe Red Sox always seem to lose when I watch or listen with my kidsbut this time the Sox hold on, and I go to bed happy even though the Yankees have turned relentless again. Were now 72 over the last nine games, and its hard to be unhappy with that. Top of the sixth, down 32 with two on and one out for Doug Mirabelli against a tiring Miguel Batista. Dougs the slowest guy on the team, a real doubleplay threat. The book here is to pinchhit a lefty, and weve got a whole bench full. Problem is, with Tek still out, and Theo and Francona not wanting to waste a roster spot on Andy Dominique, our backup catcher is Doug Mientkiewicz. Mirabelli stands in and crashes a threerun bomb off the scoreboard in leftcenter. How does that proverb go some have greatness thrust upon them? Same thing in the bottom of the inning, when the Jays load the bases with none out. Embrees arm is dead from overwork, and Leskanic and Adams have had control problems. Mike Timlins thrown way too many innings lately, but Franconas got no one else. Timlin goes to the slider and whiffs Reed Johnson and Orlando Hudson, then gets Alex Rios on a forceout. He gives one back in the seventh, but Mendoza (another unlikely hero) gets two outs in the eighth, and Foulke handles things from there. So, thanks to some clutch play from the shallow end of the depth chart, we keep pace. August 25th With Nomar gone and Trot possibly lost for the season, we dont have a true number five hitter to protect Manny and David. Franconas tried a number of guys there latelyjust as he tried Dauber and Tek early in the season. When he posts the lineup for our nineteenth and final game of the season against Toronto, Bellhorn sees that Bill Muellers in the number five slot and jokes, Are we trying tonight? Dave Wallace likes to say that if your eight best pitchers throw 80 of your innings, youll be in good shape. Thats great if you have eight good pitchers. Toronto has two. Kid righty Josh Towers implodes in the fifth, giving up backtoback jobs to Manny and David, and then, two batters later, a tworun shot to Cabrera on a hanging curve. Schilling goes 6 13 and leaves with the score a comfortable 101, giving Francona a chance to use some of our worst arms (Terry Adams, Mike Myers, Mendozawho actually throws well) and rest the real pen for one night. The Yanks and Rangers lose, but the Angels put up 21 runs against the Royals to stay even in the wild card. Next Tuesday we start a ninegame stretch against the Angels, Rangers and As. If we can go 63 or better, were looking at the playoffs. August 26th You never take the field expecting to lose, but when your number five starter is on the mound, you know youve got to work a little harder. Number five guys can be kids on their way up (Clemens, early on; Aaron Sele; Casey Fossum), vets on the way down (the execrable Matt Young; the puzzling Ramon Martinez; the scuffling Frank Castillo; the iffy John Burkett), or guys in the middle just trying to hold on (usually junkballers like Al Nipper or Wake). The recent number five fad is the converted closer (Derek Lowe, Anaheims Kelvim Escobar), which makes more sense, giving a shot to a guy who actually has good stuffas opposed to the normal borderline number five guy stuffand hoping he develops into a number two or three. All number five guys have promise, otherwise they wouldnt be in the majors, but its rare to see one over the age of thirty bloom into a solid starter, the way exSock Jamie Moyer did in Seattle. More often, the number five who exceeds expectations isnt the vet or the phenom (hes already a number one or two, like the Cubs Kerry Wood or Mark Prior) but a guy in his midtolate twenties getting his second shot and putting it all together, the way Bronson Arroyo does tonight. Arroyos skinny as a stick, but hes no kid. At twentyseven, hes been a pro for ten years, signing with Pittsburgh out of high school and rising through their farm system, seeing limited action with the big club for parts of three seasons until they waived him before spring training last year. He pitched brilliantly for Pawtucket, earning a September callup, and threw so wellespecially against the Yankeesthat we made room for him on our playoff roster. This year, with Kim out, by default he became our number five guy, and though his records only 79 (partly due to lack of run support, partly to our weak middle relievers), his ERA is 4.07, a full run better than Lowes, just .29 behind Pedrobetter, in fact, than all the Yankee starters except Kevin Brown. Tonight he has his curve working and shuts down the Tigers for 7 13, giving up only an unearned run in a clutch 41 win. On the mound hes contained but assured, then almost cocky, sauntering off after striking out the side, as slow as Pedro. Its the kind of performance that makes you wonder if hell turn into a number one someday. August 27th As previously noted, the Boston baseball writers are masters of the bad vibe, maestros of dark karma. If cast away on a cannibal isle, I have no doubt they would soon be kingsat least until reduced to dining upon each other. Hardly anything seems to knock them offstridehow could it, when they cover a team which has been denied the ultimate brass ring for eightysix years?but one thing that does give them pause is a protracted winning streak.