It's the 6th inning and the Red Sox are losing 5-0 to the Tampa Bay Rays.
Other than trying to resist the urge to find one of my neighbors who is willing to swing a sledge hammer full on into my gibleys, I'm oddly calm about the fact tonight may very well be the last time I see the Red Sox playing baseball this year.
I'm sure part of it is because if they lose I won't have to hear Chip Freaking Caray scream the words "Fisted, gliding, hammered, and stroked" until next season. For a guy with his pedigree, he comes across as nothing more than your standard homer announcer calling the local minor league affiliates game.
Also, it's been a pretty amazing year for me personally, at least as far as the Red Sox go. In May, I was able to go to Fenway Park for the first time in my 38 years. For a 3 game series vs the Brewers. Which the Red Sox SWEPT. Then, on the way home, Jon Lester pitched a no-hitter vs the Royals that I didn't find out about until around midnight that night.
Follow that up with getting to go to Game 3 of the ALDS, courtesy of the generosity of my friend Rob, and 2008 was nothing short of awesome.
Yeah, I'd have loved for them to have repeated as World Series Champions. But with Mikey on the shelf with a bum hip, Tek looking positively mortal, and the starting pitching deciding the ALCS was the perfect time to start throwing BP it didn't look good. Throw in Ellsbury hitting the proverbial wall, Pedie slumping, and Ortiz and his bum wrist and it's an ever loving miracle we made it this far.
I kept the Fair. Never gave up. But sometimes, it's just not your day. Big props to the Rays; I kept waiting for them to trip over their own feet and they NEVER DID. Great pitching, timely hitting, and they have rode the wave all the way to the end. All I can do is tip my cap, wish 'em luck, and pray the Phillies beat their brains in.
All I know is that every year, when the season starts, my team has a better than even shot of reaching the playoffs. We've been to the ALCS 4 times in the last 6 years and won it all twice. Ask the MFY's if they'd like to have that record in the 21st Century.
So I won't be tossing Tito, Papi, or the guy who keeps the pitching mound ready under the bus. It's baseball; if you don't get lucky you're in BIG trouble.
So I look to 2009 as "We'll get 'em next year." And I wish nothing more than Lowell get healthy, Beckett find his swagger again, and hope that next October will find Pap dancing around Fenway in his boxer shorts with a beer box on his head.
Although I'm still imagining a Mothers Day Miracle for tonight.
It's being kept.
POSTSCRIPT: We won. 8-7. I think I need a angioplasty.
On to Tampa and I wonder if those boys feel the noose tightening around their neck yet?
All or Nothing at All
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