Okay, that might be overstating things. But have you noticed how whenever there’s a late-game comeback or dramatic twist or, as was the case last night, a spectacular grand slam, smilin’ Eric goes all giddy, jumping up out of his seat to give his teammate the glad hand? Look at him in the far left corner of the photo above. That’s a most happy fella. Sure, the guy doesn’t play every day. But rather than bitch and moan about it, he just kicks back and gets his cheer on. And for that, we salute Eric Hinske.
Anyway, great game last night. It was impossibly frustrating early on as the Sox couldn’t solve Adam Loewen; when Ortiz came up with the bases loaded in the third and dribbled one back to the mound, I swore the Sox would never score another run again in my lifetime. Then in the eighth, Lowell hits a ground-rule double that might have — and I must stress might have — scored Manny with the tying run. And again, I cursed the heavens.
But then Pena comes up big with the bases loaded, and suddenly everything turns on one swing of the bat. If someone told me before the game that Ortiz and Pena would both be in bases loaded situations but only one would deliver, I wouldn’t have put my cash on Wily Mo. And it feels pretty good to be proven wrong.
So, to recap: a couple days ago, I made light of Wily Mo’s inability to connect bat with ball. And last night, he unleashes a monstrous grand slam that propels the Sox to a 5-2 victory over the Os.
With that in mind, let me say that, man, I sure have a feeling that Matsuzaka’s gonna tank it in the Bronx tonight.
Also: Reason to Miss Kevin Millar #844-B: When he came out last night with the magic marker blood stain on his sock, it was vintage El Bencho. I again implore the Sox front office to bring this guy on as a base coach when his playing days are done.
And Curt responds to SockGate on his blog today:
It was blood. You can choose to believe whatever you need to, but facts are facts. The 25 guys that were in that locker room, the coaches, they all know it. In the end nothing else really matters. The people that need to believe otherwise are people with their own insecurities and issues.
Hey, man, you don’t need to explain nothing to us. You could show up at my house, set fire to the curtains, tear up my copy of Giant Size X-Men #1 and feel up my mother, and I’d just keep on refilling your Glenfiddich.