That's how much, if at all, Jason Varitek's tag had on Rafael Palmeiro in the bottom of the fourth.
That's how much Sammy Sosa, snorting and stamping like a Brahma bull throughout his at-bat against Matt Clement, missed by on what became a ground-out to end the eighth with two men on base.
That's how much appreciable difference there was between that ground-out to Clement and its ghostly cousin, which still hovers.
That's how far low BJ Surhoff's bat struck on Foulke's change-up with a man on second in the bottom of the ninth, resulting in a fly out--the final out.
That's how much the Red Sox--behind Matt Clement, who has obviously, if postgame celebrations are any indication, been taken under Curt Schilling's expansive wing--won by tonight. A single precious run, to an improbable none.
The crucial minutiae of this game never cease to amaze.