First: full disclosure. I didn’t see a bloody second of last night’s Sox-Yanks mash-up. I was trapped at a business function that went on and on and on like the Old Testament. Although, thankfully, no one was wearing robes.
But watching the highlights, and seeing the Sox claw back from a 5-0 deficit and hang-on to win a gut-wrencher, I had to give the guys their props. Say what you will about the 2010 Red Sox, they’re pretty f$&king scrappy and resilient. And I like that in my Sox teams.
After Beckett put the Sox behind the eightball early, looking sadly ineffective before being lifted with back spasms, the morale in our dugout was only slightly higher than that of Luke and Leia as they watched Boba Fett cart Han Solo’s fozen ass away at the end of Empire Strikes Back. But they stuck to the plan — the plan being “dear hot Christ, let us not chloroform our season in May in the Bronx” — slipped on the big pants and pulled it out, thanks to timely hits from Ortiz and Hermida.
And it was nice to see Paps escape a tight spot in the ninth, for a change. While last night’s save won’t have me making postseason plans, back-to-back implosions may have set us all on a never ending spiral. So, yeah, our closer not shitting the bed was awesome.
Ladies and gentleman, I’m not here to sell you a bridge, but I will say that this is a better team than their record shows. When I see them clench their collective teeth and pull a win out of their asses like last night’s, I’m more clearly convinced of it. They just need that defining moment to get their shit straight and start clicking. Maybe last night’s win was it.
