Seriously. As the Sox were melting down in July, running a 12-13 record while building a human-sized pneumatic tube linking the Fenway clubhouse to Mass General Hospital — making it all the easier to transport brokedown players — did you really think we’d still be kicking it large in late September? When Pedroia, the Elfin Wizard of Vodka and Mischief, went down with injuries and Youkbacca soon followed, did you think we’d even be talking playoffs come Labor Day?
I didn’t. Sure, I’m just an extremely handsome piece of cardboard. But I know things.
Fact is, Teets somehow cobbled together a line-up worthy of any MacGyver episode. And somehow, this team was still playing games that mattered with less than a week to go in the regular season.
Bummed out? Hell, yes. Especially when I think of how cool it would have felt to have knocked the Yanks out of October with the likes of Ryan Kalish and Bill Hall at the helm. But these guys showed some heart and grit. Maybe next year we’ll get back on track. Provided, of course, I can find burlap sacks big enough for John Lackey, Daisuke and Papelbon.
But I’ve already said too much. You are now free to bask in my handsomeness. You lucky, beautiful bastards.