Red is truly a better man than I am. After watching a game as painful as having your pubes plucked out one at a time before taking a rubbing-alcohol bath, Red shotguns his final Pabst, puts up a “we’ll get ’em next time” post, and goes to bed. After I watch last season’s ace get treated like a Catholic alter boy for five innings, I tend to run a little hot for a while. Now that I’m not redlining the blood-pressure cuff anymore, I need to lay some blame.
The game was lost for the first time when Tito sent Josh Beckett out to pitch the fifth inning. The Sox had just battled back to take the lead in the top of the inning. Anyone with one good eye and an IQ over 60 could tell Beckett had nothing last night. He’d already given up five runs in four innings – including three home runs. I contend that the only reason Francona sent him out was to let him try to limp through the fifth and qualify for the win. A blink of an eye later and the Sox were on the short end of an 8-6 score.
But the game was lost for good as soon as Tito signalled for Mike Timlin to come in. The guy has brought nothing to the table all season and has no right even being on the roster. Why is Byrd on the roster if not to give a couple innings in an extra-inning game? What should have been a commanding 2-0 ALCS lead and a good chance to not set foot in the Trop until next season is now a series tied at one. As Joe Maddon came up with his “9=8” equation, we have “50=L” going on.
As much as I’d love to complain about Tek’s inability to do anything with a bat in his hands besides make an out, the offense put up eight and that should be enough to win in October.
I’m tired, I’m hungover, I feel like I slept with Youk’s socks in my mouth, and the Patriots are getting their asses handed to them. And I still have to come up with some bullshit excuse to get out of work early and live-blog tomorrow’s game.
As George Michaels pointed out, you gotta have faith. And what better man to put your faith in this season than Jon Lester. Tomorrow, we take home field advantage back, and keep alive the chance to end this thing at Fenway. I will try to sleep well tonight with thoughts of Sagar’s technicolor dreamcoat haunting my dreams.