The Angels game was the worst outing of Beckett's 10 career postseason games to that point — four runs and nine hits in five innings.
He did worse six days later in the AL championship series against Tampa Bay — eight runs in 4 1-3 innings. And in his final appearance of the year, he gave up two runs in five innings of a 4-2 win that evened the series at three games apiece. But the Rays won Game 7 against Jon Lester, who had replaced Beckett as the staff star.
"That's our last, really, picture of seeing him on a mound," Francona said...(AP)
Then the side of baseball we don't see happened. Weeks of workouts, and then a tentative reach for the ball--and 'it didn't exactly feel great'. Which translated from Beckett to human means it felt like fire ants in his elbow. Or his side. Whichever was hurt. I still don't think we're exactly clear on that...
But the revered leader of the Fuck Yeah Brigade does not get paid to be human. He gets paid to go out the next day and throw again. After three or four days of this (and perhaps a few sessions of taking it out on the deer around his ranch), he was on his way to the mound in Ft. Myers this afternoon.
Hiss...pop. Hiss...pop. In rhythm. Leaning back on his right leg, kicking up the left with an effortless-looking swing. Loose and turning out the pitches like a machine, shattering one hapless college student's bat and retiring the rest the old-fashioned way.
Folks, it looks like he's all out of bubble gum.
Hiss...pop. Hiss...pop.
I can hear it. I can see it. I can almost feel it.
Good times ahead. :-)
Posted by: Iain | February 26, 2009 at 08:59