Okay, I’ll admit it. When the Sox were down, 7-0 in the second inning, with Brad Penny looking like Clay Aiken on his first night in prison, I stopped planning my evening around the game. I stumbled off to the local, and downed a couple pints. Played grab-ass with some of the housewives working the aisles at Stop & Shop. Laid down a few tracks for my upcoming harmonica blues album. Then gave the plants that stern talking to I’ve been threatening them with all winter. Refreshed, I then flicked back on the game and pulled a hammy falling out of my chair when I saw the Sox on top to the tune of 10-8. What the fudge, I thought. What exactly did I miss?
A lot, it turns out. And I should have known this. Because amazing things seem to happen when we play the Baltimore Orioles. Like the “Mother’s Day Miracle.” Or that game in the ’70s in which Yaz, chasing a Gary Roenicke pop fly, inadvertently fell into a hole in the space/time continuum. These Baltimoreans somehow bring out our fighting spirit, and we are never truly out of a game. Any game. And I should have remembered that. And I am sorry I didn’t.
This one was all offense, all the time. After Penny chloroformed every fan in attendance, Jason Bay and JD Drew pulled his ass from the fire with a couple home runs, while Nick Green, AKA The Shortstop Who Hits, and the Mighty Elf had five hits between ’em. In fact, every member of the Sox line-up had at least one hit, save Youk, whose average dropped to a paltry .425, and David Ortiz, who is absolutely useless with a bat in his hand these days.
This was the kind of win that can change fortunes, propel spirits and lift an entire team right out of its funk, reminding them that they’ve won more World Series titles in this century than any other team. And that it’s time to start acting like it.
It started out ugly, and turned into a rousing home win. Kinda like my senior prom. But that’s a story for another day.