It’s over, Josh. The injuries got us again. Whatever chance Theo and the owners gave us of building a dynasty… it all died with the injuries to Lester and Buchholz. We bet it all on them. But the old “muscle strain” tore it down. People will lose all hope.

They won’t. They must never know the extent of those injuries.

But those holes in the rotation… you can’t…

You either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I can do those things, because I’m not a hero. So just run me out there.

But that injured knee… the hyper-extension. You can’t be our savior.

I am whatever this team needs me to be. Just tell them I made you do it. You’ll hunt me, you’ll condemn me. Set the dogs on me. Because it’s what needs to happen. Because, sometimes, truth isn’t good enough. Sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve their faith… rewarded.

Have you been drinking?

Just pencil me the f$%k in, Teets.

::Runs out to bullpen::

I thought Josh was, like, hurt or something. Why is he heading out to warm up?

Because we have to chase him.

Uh. What?

Because he’s the hero that Red Sox Nation deserves, but not the one it needs right now. So, we’ll run him out there, even though he may still be hurt. Because he can take it. Because he’s not a hero. He’s a silent guardian, a watchful protector. A whiskey-swilling, bare-knuckled, proud double-flusher. He’s Commander Kickass of the F$%k Yeah Brigade

I will admit, the cape is a nice touch.

Yeah, but, still… I really wish he’d put his pants back on.