There’s no one on this Red Sox team whose success gets me giddier than Tim Wakefield.
Yes, the man can inspire heart-stoppage and spontaneous window-punching like no other. But he’s also among baseball’s rare breeds. A truly decent guy who does whatever the team asks of him — whether it’s start, relieve, mop-up, fill-in, fill-out, stand up, sit down, or translate Foreigner’s early work for the Spanish-speaking players on the roster — without a sigh, complaint or regard for personal statistics.
Plus, he’s the one guy on the Red Sox roster who’s actually older than me. So his longevity and endurance allows me, in an only slightly creepy and pathetic way, to cling tenaciously to what’s left of my youth.
Last night, for the umpteenth time in what seems a thousand years, he came through for us again, patching a hole in the starting rotation and giving up just one run over 6 and 2/3 innings, helping the Sox win the all-important rubber game of the Cubs series.
It was a well-timed performance, coming on the heels of a bitter loss that could have easily been our eighth straight victory. No need to dwell on Saturday night’s collapse when we’ve got another Wakefield “feel-good” story to talk about.
Your grandkids and whoever’s left on this planet after Dr. Zauis and Cornelius take it over are in for a treat. Because God knows Tim Wakefield will still be pitching long after we’re gone.