That's what Andy thought I was saying when I referred to something as a "bloop hit". I thought it was an oddly appropriate term.
My question after what happened last night is: if Curt Schilling's ankle was ailing him so badly, why did he pitch? Why did someone (Curt himself, preferably), not say, "Let Wake (or someone) have a turn tonight. I'll try to get it together for game 4."
Mike Mussina was greased perfection last night, staying flawless through six innings. There wasn't room for that kind of error.
The only encouraging thing I can point to is that the Yankees started last year's ALCS down 0-1. I have theorized over the last few days that whoever wins Game 2 is most likely to be the eventual series winner. I make no predictions as to whether or not that will happen for us, but the Sox offense finally waking up for seven runs in the later innings is a cause for some optimism.
It's hard to know how to feel. On the one hand, you can say "well, hope we got that out of our system." On the other hand, you can say, "If Schilling is fucked, so are we."
One more thing to mention before I try to go about my workday without thinking about the Sox too much: there has probably never been a more inappropriately nicknamed person than Mike "Moose" Mussina. He looks like Mark-Paul Gosselar (better known as Zach Morris on Saved by the Bell), or more like someone who should be wearing epaulets and greeting subjects in some destitute island nation than someone nicknamed "Moose." When I think of a "Moose", I think of someone in ratty jeans with a filthy handkerchief sticking out of the back pocket, Cat steel-toed construction boots, a plaid flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off, a gold chain, a toothpick and a trucker cap. Put Mike Mussina in that, and he's still not a "Moose." He's maybe a "Dexter" or a "Leroy," at best.