Rudy Seanez had just given up the go-ahead runs when I decided I'd turn in. It was coincidence. Well, at least mostly. But I was extremely tired, and ESPN puts that game on so damn late and I hate it. So went to bed in protest. Yeah, okay, I also figured Seanez had soiled the linens again and the cause was lost. So I am not hardcore. Oh well.
Then we were lying in bed and I was complaining about how hot it was and how I couldn't sleep even though we had the AC on in the other room, because the fan wasn't really getting the cool air into the bedroom despite our careful placement and meticulous calculations about how to most efficiently and effectively redirect the airflow. I started thinking about lying on a bed of ice, but that only made me hotter, and of course my morbid mind started wondering if you would stick to a bed of ice the way your tongue sticks to a telephone pole, and if it would rip your skin off.
And I wonder why I have trouble getting to sleep most nights.
AAAnyway, as all this was happening, my cell phone beeped.
Aw fuck it. I checked the score. 6-4 Red Sox. Okay! Better than 6-3. I reported this to my bedmate, who told me to "GO TO SLEEP ALREADY."
But a little while later the phone beeped again. 6-6 Red Sox.
Then, 7-6 Red Sox.
Then all of a sudden, 9-6 Red Sox!! What was going--
"No, no!" Steve said, his sleepy grumpiness forgotten, catching me as I got up again to turn the TV back on. "Clearly, we can't turn the TV back on, since they started scoring when we went to bed."
He was absolutely 100% serious.
I've created a monster.
Is Kyle Snyder the Ghost of Bronson Arroyo or what?
Except in the lack of run support thing. At least, tonight. Which is a good thing. But he looks a lot like him. At least in my opinion.
And a nice, tidy 6-3 win never hurt anybody. Nor has a goosebump-inducing Fenway ovation for Gabe Kapler's second triumphant return in as many years (this one even more poignant than the first--even Manny took off his glove and clapped for him after a nice catch in the outfield, as heart-warming a Sox moment as has happened this season and possibly ever). Or an Over-the-Monster (shit, is that a coyright violation?) BOMB from Manny to cap things off.
I don't know what's put me in such a Polyanna mood tonight, but we really have to count our blessings right now as Red Sox fans. How many of these wet-behind-the-ears kids and journeymen off the scrap heap have taken the mound for us, mumbling "Sorry", this year? And how many of their games have been lost? Two? To not have lost ALL OF THEM is a stroke of brilliant good fortune. This in turn is due in no small part to the infield defense we're seeing this year, probably the most consistent in Red Sox history. Nothing to sneeze at.
The decimation to this pitching staff has been unbelievable. And this is a team that was planned around pitching. And this appears to be a year in which none of "the kids" are going to be traded away for a quick free-agent fix. And we're in first effin' place.
And just because I'm pretty much obsessed at this point, let's praise the baseball gods with burnt sacrifice once again for the unmitigated gift of Jonathan Papelbon this year. When I went to bed early last night, I missed the best remark I've heard yet on Jonathan Papelbon, made by Jon Miller toward the end of the broadcast (I actually don't mind him; it's Joe Morgan I can't stand). Luckily, Iain passed it along this morning--"Papelbon comes on and puts an end to the foolishness."
If you catch yourself grousing about anything Sox-related, think about what this season would look like without Señor 0.25 ERA™. And then do whatever penance you feel is sufficient.
P.S. Go here and rank the most classic games, to be replayed on NESN's All-Star Marathon. Hint: the correct order is 4,5,3,1,6,2.