I have a dream. And that dream is that at some point in the 2007 season, J.D. Drew is going to pull off something so magnificent, so drop-your-pants-and-kick-yourself-in-the-ass spectacular that it causes each and every member of Red Sox Nation to get out of their chairs, toss the beer and pretzels to the floor, raise their hands above their heads and say, “Holy Christ, J.D., I’m sorry for ever doubting you. For the slings and verbal barbs I’ve cast your way throughout this season. Because this thing you’ve just done makes up for every moment of every painful at bat we’ve had to endure.”
I mean, the guy was brought in to be our number 5 hitter, to provide a little sumthin’-sumthin’ to complement the Manny-Ortiz ticket. With one month left to play, he’s given us 7 home runs and 46 RBIs… so, surely, something amazing is just around the corner. Some massive explosion of awesome. It has to happen before the season ends, correct?
Last night, with Drew at the plate and the tying runs aboard in the eighth, I thought it was coming. I was absolutely, dead-ass certain that this was going to be the moment. That he was going to launch that ball from the Bronx all the way to the roof of Santarpio’s in East Boston. And in my mind’s eye — not a pleasant place to be — I saw him rounding the bases and clapping his hands madly and his teammates going batshit in the dugout and the collective wind being sucked out of Yankee Stadium. I saw this, people. Saw it as clear as day, as crisp and alluring as the Director’s Cut of Blade Runner. And I had myself utterly convinced that this was going down.
And then he watched a couple strikes float by. Then the count was somehow full. Then, with every last parolee in Yankee Stadium banging on their seat, he kinda busted with this weird-ass pseudo-swing on a slider. And that was that.
But I don’t care, Yankees. Because this is as close as you’re getting. I’m not quaking in my boots, not harboring fear of a Damon planet, not expecting to walk out of here with anything less than that 8 game lead.
How unconcerned am I? Hell, here’s Fishbone’s “Everyday Sunshine.” Because that’s what I’m feeling, Bubee.