True confession: When I tuned in to Friday Night Fenway last night and discovered that Tim Wakefield had been scratched from his start, that was it for me. I really just needed a night off from the misery. So I watched a movie instead.
My cell phone kept delivering the score, and I found myself unable to resist it, at least as long as the text messages kept coming in (I'm limited to 10 per game) and last I knew it was 6-3 O's. This morning I called up the Sox official site to check the final, and this is the first thing I saw:
mlb.com / Winslow Townson / AP
I really don't want to know which of our relief pitchers gave up the additional five runs over Julian's 4, though I have what are probably good guesses. I don't want to know if, perhaps, Okajima was warmed up AGAIN during this game. I don't want to know how many times JD Drew struck out. I am furious with the Red Sox right now, and I am giving them the silent treatment. There is utterly no reason for them to be playing like this, and I swear, if this is a 1978 redux, I may never forgive them for it. (I'll still be a fan, of course, you can just throw that on the "I'll Never Forgive Them" pile along with all the other shit like Gump and '86 and all that.)
I guess I really just thought that old storyline, of the Sox choking when it matters most, was over with. I thought we were in a new era. Yet right now the Sox seem determined to revert to their old gut-punching ways.*
*I am aware I am being *somewhat* irrational (just a little...). This is part of the stuff I refrained from spewing in my last post. But I guess I can't totally help it--I really am Josh-Beckett-yelling-at-Joba-Chamberlain pissed at the Sox today.
OK. Deep breaths.
Here's something that cheered me up over the last day or so:
Queen of All Baseball Media Texas Gal was kind enough to send it over to me. I believe it's a Boston.com photo but unfortunately don't know the photog. "Papi looks so peaceful and snuggly. Joshie looks a little uncomfortable at the immense pleasure another man is getting out of hugging him- and yet trying hard to fight giving in to a full-on Papi-snuggle," she wrote me in an email.
You can definitely tell he's fighting it. That's the best part.
Another thing to be happy about: It's officially September. That means callups. That means The Buchholz. I could use a little Stick Bug fix right about now.