You my boy Derek Lowe. You saved me from going into a catatonic trance on Monday night. I’d been shaking because I had to watch my beloved Beantown baseballers let a three run lead dwindle to one, and with men on first and second and only one out, I was sure we were doomed to spend another off-season in the dumps.
“Well, at least we got this far,” I thought, to pacify myself. But wait, Lowe puts down pinch hitter Todd Melheuse and strikes out Terrence Long to end the game! Unbelievable! The Red Sox came through in the clutch!
That’s right, sports fans, these are not your father’s, or your grandfather’s, or even your great-grandfather’s Red Sox. Well, maybe your great-grampy was kicking around in 1918 when we last won the World Series, but he’s the only one who remembers Boston as a ball club that doesn’t choke. This machine, powered by a twin-powered Dominican engine, one skinny (Pedro Martinez), one chubby (David Ortiz), aided by a guy who grew up in the enemy’s backyard (Manny Ramirez in the Bronx), and maintained by a bunch of rowdy roughnecks who can hit the cover off a baseball, is coming up as big as their talk down the stretch.
And, as they proved the night they clinched the wildcard, they’ll get behind the counter and pour brewskis for fans who stick around after the fireworks.
Only three other teams came back from two game deficits to win best-of-five series’, and these guys were only the second to earn the distinction of finishing it on the road. O-Town, you have been chumped (as has San Francisco; not a good year for Nor Cal, huh?).
This has been a long time coming. The year-in-year-out drone gets awfully old. I can sum up the past decade of AL East season- ending standings pretty quickly: 1. Yankees, 2. Sox 3. Everyone else. Every year.
So why should this year be any different you ask? This time, we have more than just Pedro on the mound; we have four solid starting pitchers, a newly confident relief corps, and a lineup with the highest slugging percentage in history.
Odds are, we probably won’t take down the “Evil Empire” (as Boston owner Larry Lucchino calls the Yankees) this year. But cheer up Sox fans; we have the youngest, brightest general manager in baseball. In Theo Epstein I trust, and God bless the Sox and Beantown fans whether we win or lose. Besides, you’ll be hearing from us either way, so why fight us?
Hey now, Cubbie fans, what’s this I see? You have something to cheer about too! You won your first playoff series since 1908? Now, watch out National League, Mark Prior and Kerry Wood are here to stay, and if Atlanta couldn’t hit ‘em, then Florida can go ahead and try. Okay, so maybe we dropped game one when a breeze straight out of Hurricane Izzy was blowing out to left field. My eight-year-old sister could hit a homer with that jet stream. Just wait, the friendly confines of Wrigley Field will get a lot less friendly when Mark of Arc is staring down the batters.
Go ahead and try to shut down Slammin’ Sammy, Moises Alou, and Alex Gonzalez in the clutch. A-Gon has been winning games all year, and you saw what Sammy could do in the bottom of the ninth Monday night.
Fate has to be on our side. I mean, we clinched on a day when we won, and you could look at the Wrigley scoreboard and see the Astros lost! Cubs win and chasers lose; now that’s a first. After all, the ghosts should be gone now that we finally retired Ron Santo’s number. The bullpen has been a bit of a problem this season, but it always is on the north side of the Windy City. I mean, when you look back and pick out Rod Beck as an “outstanding” closer, your bullpen is about as solid as a Jell-O mold. Just trust in the young guns. Prior and Wood are going to pitch two-a-piece each series, so you’re gonna’ have to beat one of them. With those two, I like our chances.
Enjoy it RedSox and Cubs fans. A Fenway-Wrigley World Series is so glorious, even the idea is mind-blowing. Forget the Yankees, with their fair-weather, cookie-cutter fans. This is your time. And with luck, and a few more prayers for a Sox-Cubs series, maybe one of us will pass this curse on to the A’s, Giants, or Braves.
