Cursed To First - Sox and Pats forever.

I'm with Amalie

My question to you would be: What other choice did the Red Sox have? With Jacoby Ellsbury, Dustin Pedroia, Kevin Youkilis, and Mike Cameron all done for the year, the Sox had to use younger guys for most of the season, from guys like Daniel Nava to Ryan Kalish to Jed Lowrie. Would you rather have had more of Bill Hall or Darnell McDonald in center field in the last couple of months? Or would you rather have seen Kalish there?

Sure, part of the reason that some of the younger guys (Kalish, Josh Reddick, Lars Anderson, Lowrie) have played more has been that the Red Sox would like to get at least a sense of how they'll perform in the majors. But the Red Sox also understand that September (and spring training) are the worst times of the year to judge players. In many ways, the Red Sox didn't have a choice. For example, with Scutaro ailing, they had to move him to second base and Lowrie was the logical choice to play at shortstop in his place. Perhaps the only place you could quibble with their usage is with Anderson over Lowell at first base. But, again, Lowell is also dealing with multiple injuries that have cut into the time he can spend on the field.

I think there was realism in the way the Red Sox treated the end of the season, but I am also not exactly sure how they could have significantly altered their player choices down the stretch to keep themselves closer to the Yankees. Ask Amalie, Boston.com, 9-28-2010

This team played with such grit and tenacity that I can't help but think about what they might have accomplished this season with even Pedroia and Youkilis still in the lineup, let alone all the other guys they lost.

In the end, the injury list was too long. As a guy in a gray hoodie has been known to say, it is what it is. But this season still came down to the very last week, and I think that's saying a lot, given the circumstances.

Even leaving aside all the players they lost earlier this season, the ones who are still on the field might not be there with a healthier club around them. Look at what Marco Scutaro has been playing through. Mike Lowell is a hobbling shadow of his former self -- I look at his upcoming retirement with as much relief for him as sadness that he'll be gone. I lost track of the number of times I was sure V-Mart was finally going to come out of a game as he grimaced with pain on the field, but he didn't. That guy caught big league fastballs with a cast on his thumb under his glove last month and still found time for light-hearted slapper fights with Adrian Beltre to make sure we all stayed entertained.

Terry Francona kept this team motivated even as their chances dwindled to nothing -- I'm surprised he could remember everybody's name with the number of players that have been through that clubhouse this season, and somehow he's kept them pulling together and putting up a fight in the toughest division in baseball.

And you're lying if you say you thought at any point before August that David Ortiz could be finishing the year with 30 homers and 100 RBI. No, I'm sorry, you just are. But he did.

Sunday, they came within moments of sweeping the Yankees and actually keeping things in limbo in the East untill the very last days of the season. Even tonight, things came down to the very last play. For all the drama over those who've failed to earn True Dirt Dog Status this year, there have been plenty of players quietly playing through pain and under pressure, as we insist they must. Do we feel this is so obvious and simple a thing to do that it does not deserve acknowledgement, given how we punish the ones who fail to live up to this standard? Is it really so naive and simple-minded also to appreciate what the players who've been left have actually accomplished?

I haven't seen anyone make more than a high-level argument about what exactly is meant by the Red Sox "giving up" down the stretch. Nobody I've seen commenting to this effect in the last two days has named names in terms of who the Red Sox should've gotten and what they'd be willing to give up in return, or specifically how the lineup or rotation or bullpen should've been managed differently -- there have been little but general statements about how they should've "done more." But what?

Beware of Beltre

Adrian Beltre smacked a solo shot into the upper deck in the left field corner in the top of the fourth inning, dropping onto one knee so hard (as on the T-shirt above) his other foot came off the ground, and his arm flailed open, so that it almost looked like he was accompanying his big finish with jazz hands.

We’ve come to look for a show bigger than the homer itself whenever Beltre returns to the dugout after going deep. This time, even though the act has been going on for weeks and weeks now, they topped even our heightened expectations.

Beltre was prepared. He held his batting helmet firmly on his head with one hand as he passed through the crowd of his teammates, high-fiving with his other hand. Finally he broke through near the Gatorade coolers, as most of his teammates stood back and laughed.

But not V-Mart. No, he stared after Beltre with laser-like focus, clearly plotting. “They’ll get to him,” was Remy’s call.

Eventually it was Bill Hall who approached Beltre, reaching for the batting helmet. At first Beltre ducked away, but ever so calmly, speaking to him in hushed tones like the Horse Whisperer, Bill Hall got Beltre to let him lift the helmet from his noggin.

See? Hall seemed to be saying, as he retreated from Beltre, shrugging. That’s all I wanted. He faked going for Beltre’s head then, but stopped at the last second. The two parted with a smile.

“Right now, I think they’re just lullin’im to sleep,” said Remy.

When next the camera cut to the dugout, Beltre was helping himself to a drink at the cooler and then V-Mart rose up behind him, grinning diabolically and dragging both palms languidly from Beltre's forehead to his crown before the third baseman could wriggle away.

To which Beltre responded by turning on Victor and throwing the remaining ice and liquid in the Gatorade cup he was holding into Martinez’s face.

Which is when Marco Scutaro rushed at Beltre as if he was going to try and tackle him. Beltre, reacting with catlike reflexes, hucked the crumped-up cup at him so hard his arm windmilled almost 360 degrees. It looked like it actually scratched Scutaro’s arm a little. With wax-coated paper.

Another lull. V-Mart, eyes wide, diverted Beltre not unlike Jeff Goldblum with the torch and the T-Rex in Jurassic Park. Beltre looked just about to lunge for V-Mart when Scutaro, having quietly grabbed a handful of ice from another cooler, planted it on Beltre’s cranium.

For the next few moments, there was little audible but the wheeze of Remy’s laughter. The three of them tussled again briefly, then separated, grabbing towels and continuing to talk trash. Beltre’s face was contorting itself when he turned toward the camera again, struggling not to crack a smile. When he took the field for the next inning, he was using his jersey to cover his giggles.

Needless to say, this has yet to get old for me, either.

***

Tonight was a nice, tidy, comfortable game for the Sox, from the more reasonable hour of the first pitch (6:30 pm ET) to the lead they took in the top of the sixth on a Chone Figgins error at second and never lost. Ryan Kalish wielded a hot bat, dropping nasty liners just fair down the right field line.

Buchholz put up a good line, but there was a fine line between his seven innings of one-run ball and a much more crooked line, as the Sox defense got him out of several jams early on and he managed to overcome a two-walk episode of wildness in the sixth. It looked sometimes like his curveball just wouldn’t bend.

Another encouraging sign: Okajima pitched a clean inning, and as was pointed out on Twitter, 6 1/3 scoreless since coming off the DL in August.

Beating up on a bad team like the Mariners is also encouraging, but Boston remains 6.5 games out, even after the Yankees have lost 8 of their last 10 games and the Red Sox have won 6 in their last 10.

I guess I’m just past a certain turning point already this year. At this juncture, the Red Sox are going to have to do something proactively to inspire my hope, instead of something disappointing to shatter my confidence, in order to change how I feel. I’m not completely ruling it out. But there hasn’t been another turning point for me yet.

That's All, Folks?

Yes, a miracle may still happen. An utterly improbable collapse and / or comeback may yet occur. But it's officially time to put that in the same category as the probability Bigfoot exists or the probability of a child actually growing up to be a professional astronaut. Stranger things have happened, but not usually.

And so, some notes on a tough loss laced with a heavy dose of finality.

** It didn't look like Ryan Kalish had a prayer of reaching that ball, a sinking liner he caught to end the second inning. Even more surprising than the fact that he got there was his somersaulting follow-through, tucking his glove arm and shoulder safely under himself, rather than falling hard on his shoulder joint as we've seen Ellsbury do on occasion. Not only did he execute a perfect tuck-and-roll, but he also popped back up and landed on his feet in one fluid motion.

I was agape. Remy called it the catch of the year, and I agree.

** Early on in the game, excitable Rays starter Matt Garza looked like he was telling himsef out loud to calm down, gesturing as if he was literally crushing something down, muttering and grimacing between pitches.

In the top of the fourth, Garza thought Mike Lowell swung twice when it was obvious that Lowell took a step forward but held up the bat. Not even close. But Garza protested theatrically, which is how he seemingly does everything, to the point of screaming at the umpires after Lowell eventually flied out harmlessly to end the inning. Even his own catcher looked like he was trying to tell him Lowell hadn't swung, and it looked as if Garza brushed it off.

My God, he is annoying. Like, fingernails on a chalkboard annoying. Of course, Josh Beckett has his moments, and I've seen Jon Lester be needlessly snotty at times, but after tonight I can't think of any of their behavior that rivals Garza's constant twitching and kvetching on the field. It's obviously worked for him to some extent, but good Lord.

** V-Mart finally got his revenge for a blown call on a caught-stealing at second in the bottom of that inning, gunning down Evan Longoria at second. Am I the only one who looks at Longoria and sees Dennis from It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia? I can't be, can I?

** Buchholz also became visibly frustrated with the umpire in the bottom of the fifth after some borderline calls. Not to quite the same shoulder-shrugging, neck-rolling extent as Garza, but it was there. The unusual part of it was that the Rays hitter at the time, Dan Johnson, also seemed baffed at the strike zone. Eventually Buch got a called strike three that was very questionably on the outside corner.

He walked back up on the mound, his back to the umpire, rolling his eyes. But Buch bore down and made short work of the next batter, too. No shouted recriminations as he left the field.

** In the top of the seventh, it was Mike Lowell's turn to fume over a checked-swing attempt that was ruled strike three. He flipped his bat, drawing points in his direction from the third base umpire and a protracted conference with the home plate umpire, though Lowell was not actually tossed. I don't think either Garza or Lowell was correct in their assessment of the umpires' calls, but I do wonder if these altercations are the result of general, mounting frustration with umpires in the league this year.

** Buch's curveball of old made an appearance or two tonight, dropping in for called strikes. His changeup dropped off the table. All of this was set off by a fastball that hovered in the 94 range and showed late movement.

He'll probably always be wiry and thin by most standards, but he's begun to fill out at least some, got that show hair, as Kevin Millar would say, and developed a kind of quiet swagger, less bombastic than Beckett and less fussy than Lester, but with a dagger-eyed game face that's a thrill to behold. He's the complete package this year. A joy to watch perform.

** VMart and Papi were like clockwork tonight. In the top of the fourth, a V-Mart single and a Papi double put runners at second and third for the Sox, and a sac fly from Beltre produced the game's first run. V-Mart and Ortiz once again assumed their positions on base in the top of the sixth with a single and a walk respectively.

In the sixth, Garza received a mound visit from Hickey after falling behind Beltre 2-0. It looked like they were getting to him. But Beltre then proceeded to ground into a double play as Don Orsillo's sinking tone voiced our collective disappointment. The pressure-cooker of a 1-0 game continued.

The Red Sox stranded another baserunner after a bloop single by Kalish in the top of the seventh. Bill Hall whiffed to kill that rally.

Buch held the line until the seventh, and it was arguably Buch himself that ruined the gem, when he threw away a pickoff attempt to first and Pena scampered to third, the first Rays runner of the game to reach and pass second base.

JD Drew also chose to catch a foul popup that inning, which JD's touch turned into a sacrifice fly, tying the game at 1. That'll be grist for the mill tomorrow. But you can't forget the LOB that had come before.

** I could've fast forwarded or checked my text messages, since I was well behind in the DVR by the time the eighth inning rolled around. I'd heard the new text chime twice and assumed one of the two teams had scored another run, and then I'd gotten the usual notification of a final score. But which way had it gone?

I could've peeked. But I didn't. Because if it wasn't in favor of the Red Sox, I decided I didn't want to know just yet. I knew if they lost this game it would be time to start making peace with disappointment, but I wanted to put that off until it was absolutely necessary.

And then V-Mart stepped to the plate, and knocked a towering bomb into the stands behind right center field. 2-1 Red Sox.

** I was wrong about the subsequent text notification being the final score, too. With Daniel Bard still warming in the bottom of the eighth, Buch faced BJ Upton, and Upton unceremoniously tied the game again with a leadoff home run.

I don't second-guess decisions by Fancona as much as some people do, but I think it was pretty reasonable to assume Buch was cooked after that seventh inning. Bard has been lights out. I suppose Francona might've been hoping Buch had one more inning in him so Bard could close things out, but he'll be under a microscope for that one. Though it was also because of that troublesome curveball for Buchholz again, hanging over the plate this time.

** The LOB loomed large again as Bard finished out a one-two-three ninth and the game headed into extras. A bad feeling stirred in the pit of my stomach. The Red Sox are 2-6 in extras this year on the road, 5-9 overall. The Rays, 6-5 (stats per NESN, Edes). The moment Upton's homer left the park, it felt like it was all over but the shouting.

The Sox had their best chance in the top of the tenth with V-Mart on base once again and Papi up. Papi took a questionable called strike, then whiffed his way into an 0-2 hole. Randy Choate threw outside, ball one, inside, ball two. Then Papi flied out. Scott Atchison was coming in for the bottom of the tenth. Okajima was warming behind him. That sinking feeling got worse.

Just get it over with, I thought. Just get it over with. And then Dan Johnson finally obliged.

** It didn't come easy to the Rays. The Red Sox fought like hell, and came very close to giving us a barn-burner tomorrow. But in the end, it seems increasingly clear the pessimists among us will probably be vindicated. No doubt there will be calls from some corners tomorrow to fire the [ETA: second-] winningest manager in Red Sox history* for his strange bullpen decisions tonight. What's left of Jacoby Ellsbury's effigy may yet be burned in the streets.

But none of it was that simple. Not for the whole season, and not during this game.

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* And the other guy certainly isn't walking through that door.

The longest afternoon of baseball ever.

Can't really call it the longest game ever. But at more than six and a half hours if you arrived on time for the original 1:35 pm start and stayed until the bitter end, this double rain-delayed game was longer than the longest 9-inning game on record (August 18, 2006, Sox vs. Yankees, 4:45), and only an hour and change shy of the longest extra-inning game on record (May 8, 1984, White Sox vs. Brewers, 8:06 over two days). It was so long my ridiculously sunburn-prone self managed to get slightly sunburned, and it was overcast the whole time (not making this up.)

And, okay, it wasn't the longest rain delay ever, either. Fans in other cities have been treated to worse -- The Chicago White Sox also delayed a game 7.5 hours before calling it off on August 12, 1990. The longest delay in a game that resumed was 3:39, Giants vs. Mets, July 23, 1994.

But it was a personal record. I'm pretty sure that was the most time I've spent at Fenway in one sitting, especially for a single 9-inning game.

When we first showed, I was convinced we'd be let in long enough to buy our required beer and beverage each, and then sent back to a lazy rainy Sunday afternoon at home. No such luck. Instead, we waited until 3:15 for the game to begin. Two innings were played, and then in a driving downpour the tarp was pulled back onto the field again. And about five minutes later (not an exaggeration), the skies closed up again. Not a drop was falling by 4:30. Play finally resumed, as the temperature began to drop and gusting winds rubbed in the chill, at 5:05.

I thought I had it tough, but I really can't imagine what it must've been like to be Clay Buchholz today. He was just beginning to feel his way through the game (cutter and changeup his most effective pitches, particularly the changeup. He was locating his fastball well. The curveball, still not so much) when the rain came. When he re-emerged and had to wait in the right-field corner for the grounds crew to get the tarp out of his way before he could begin warming up again, he pounded the baseball he was holding into his glove in visible aggravation.

While his counterpart, Shaun Marcum, fell apart two innings after the game resumed, Buchholz weathered all of that (no pun intended), and turned in nothing but goose eggs for his side of the scoreboard. He got a mound visit after two hits opened the top of the sixth, shortly after Marcum left the field tagged with three, and I thought, okay, here we go...the two had gone toe-to-toe to that point, and it wouldn't have been too surprising to see them tire together as well.

Buchholz retreated behind the mound, kicking the shoe brush with a bit too much vigor. V-Mart followed him, and when Buchholz didn't immediately turn, pretended to see something interesting on the rubber until the pitcher finally gave him his attention. John Farrell trotted out to meet them both, and they talked through their gloves for a while.

Then Buchholz turned and hummed in a first-pitch strike to Adam Lind. Lind did not go quietly, and neither did the next two hitters, but one by one, Buchholz worked his way through them. Strikeout, lineout, groundout. Six innings pitched, seven strikeouts, five hits (!!), zero runs.

The five hits are proof of what my gut also told me watching this effort from Buchholz -- this, like some of his other recent starts, was not his best game. He didn't have his best stuff. Either he's doing something different with his curveball, or he's having trouble locating it for some reason; maybe there's been so much effort expended on weaning him off what was once his only "plus" pitch that he's lost his feel for it temporarily. But the talented bundle of neuroses that first donned a Red Sox uniform three years ago has turned into a professional pitcher. There's at least as much mind as arm and instinct to Clay Buchholz now, and he's beaten nearly all comers with that combination this season.

Buchholz's effort might've been for naught had the offense not found a way to solve Marcum. The rally began when David Ortiz hustled his way to third as the ball rolled around in the triangle, leading off the bottom of the fifth. Adrian Beltre followed with a double that scored the game's first run.

They kept working at Marcum, advancing Beltre to third with a groundout by Lowrie to bring up Bill Hall.

"Hit the balll, Bill Hallll, hit the balll..." some women behind me began chanting, punctuated with a clap-clap.

And hit it he did, so high and so far that at first I thought it was a pop-up, and then had lost it in the net between our seats and the plate and the cloudy sky, as had most people in my section. We squinted at the people in the Monster seats, waiting for their reaction. When we saw fists go up in triumph there, we followed suit. 3-0 Red Sox.

At the last moment, in the bottom of the 8th, they tacked on two more, the first at the injured hands of Victor Martinez, who back in the second inning had just elected to suck it up and continue playing, after Jose Bautista's backswing hit him on the previously-broken thumb of his glove hand, when the second rain delay began. An hour's wait in the rain and six innings later, he was not only still catching, but getting key hits, to boot.

If we're going to tear players apart when they don't play hurt, it's time to start acknowledging it more when they do. Let's not underestimate the amount of pain V-Mart must've been feeling today, and what he contributed in spite of it.

Overall, the last week for the Sox has not been a disaster, but it has also been far from the miraculous run they really should've started by now if they wanted to up their chances significantly of making the playoffs. The math is not final yet, with six games left against both the Rays and Yankees and a six-run deficit in the division, but it remains a distinct long shot. The division rivals have yet to cooperate and collapse, and the Sox may have put two of the final nails in the coffin when the Jays beat them Thursday and Friday night like Joe Pesci at the end of Casino.

But they're still fighting, and I keep watching. At this point, I don't think any of us knows what else there is to do.

Living Dangerously

Photo by Kelly O'Connor.

The Red Sox came back once to tie it at two-all before the fourth inning was over, and two innings later they were engineering yet another comeback from a 5-2 deficit, grinding out at-bats, doing the little things right, and wearing down a clearly demoralized Angels team for a hard-won win number two on this crucial homestand.

Bill Hall redeemed himself for a flub in left field with a homer over everything onto Lansdowne Street in the fourth, and in the fifth Adrian Beltre belted one out to cut the Angels' lead to one. In the sixth, the Sox chipped away, loaded the bases, and scored the tying run on a wild pitch.

The tiebreaking and deciding run that inning also came not from a hit, a homer, a stolen base or a well-placed bunt, but off the ribs of Daniel Nava with the bases still loaded to make it 6-5, Red Sox. In the next frame, Nava would save Daniel Bard's bacon, almost literally by the skin of his teeth, diving onto his right side and scraping his glove along the ground, barely any distance between the web where it landed and the grass where it might've meant defeat.

Thus the razor-thin one-run distance between us and an unpleasant Thursday morning was also preserved, and expanded the next inning with more grinding small ball from the Sox to make the score 7-5. Maybe a bit more nerve-wracking than I would've liked, but all that matters is that letter "W".

***

After Nava's circus catch, Jonathan Papelbon took the mound, his performance the only thing between Red Sox Nation and a sigh of relief.

For him, this has been a markedly inconsistent season. But some perspective on that is warranted tonight -- he became the first reliever ever with 30 or more saves in each of his first five seasons. Literally no one has been more consistent than him over the same period of time. Perhaps it's time to slow our roll in general around here, eh?

Tonight, Paps mowed down the Angels in the ninth with upper-90s heat and a wicked splittah,looking every bit the holder of an all-time reliever record. One silent exchange between him and Victor Martinez sticks with me -- Howie Kendrick was at bat, and Papelbon had already pulled the string on him with the split. V-Mart gestured so clearly for the high cheese I knew at home what he was calling for, with a repeated flash of a single finger inside and up, followed by a flutter of his hand under his own chin. Papelbon responded with precision, and Kedrick swung through it, missing the high heater by a whisper. Strike three. And a beauty to behold.

Bill Hall, Y'all

I don't know what got into Bill Hall tonight in Toronto, but whatever it is, it can stay.

He'd had me concerned at times last weekend in New York, but against the Blue Jays tonight he turned in a superhuman performance: 2 homers, 3 hits, 4 RBI. They would be only part of a 10-1 final score, but his laser show tonight was what first swung the game's momentum Soxward, breaking a 1-1 tie on his homer in the top of the second and tacking on the first two insurance runs with another bomb in the top of the fourth. 

In the field, Hall also turned perhaps the two prettiest double plays we've seen this year, the first of which took Popeye levels of arm strength after a throw from Adrian Beltre deep behind third, and the second of which he accomplished singlehandedly, tagging a runner and then firing to Mike Lowell at first base. 

Yes, Bill Hall. That will do quite nicely. By all means carry on with that.

In the dugout, the Sox were goofing, with more Beltre / V-Mart horseplay after Beltre hit a second-decker of his own in the top of the fifth. On his side of the innings, Clay Buchholz remained in command on the mound for eight solid, surrendering just one run despite giving up five hits and having difficulty getting his curveball over for strikes throughout the night. As it turned out, the changeup and cutter would amply suffice.

Overall, there was a feeling tonight like everyone had finally taken a deep breath. A certain swagger seemed to be returning in every step. There have been some times, in other seasons, where I might've shut off a game like this early, the score having pretty much been settled by the fifth inning. But not this one. Not this year. Not because I thought they would blow it, necessarily -- because I wanted to soak it in.

I can hardly wrap my mind around it. I almost don't want to say it out loud...but yes, my friends, the Red Sox have just won three games in a row on the road. And as superstitiously certain as I am that having made that statement means the luck ends here, it's already in the books: three games in a row. Just edging into the 'streak' category, but I will take it.

As far behind in the standings as Toronto is, they seem to have been putting on something of a revival over the last several weeks. Their poor early season play probably sank their playoff hopes for good, but they gave the ailing Tampa Bay Rays a run for their money over the weekend. It's especially gratifying to see the Red Sox roll in and whup ass on the heels of their rivals' humiliation. That doesn't mean I'm making any predictions or bold jinxy declarations--just trying to savor it as long it lasts.

Meanwhile, Dustin Pedroia watching the games from the dugout right now reminds me of a little dog choking itself on a leash. He sat perched on the very edge of the step in Toronto tonight, practically plopped onto the warning track -- as close as he physically could be to actually standing at second base.

Word has it he's set to bring shock and awe to Pawtucket this weekend. Much as I love Bill Hall after a night like tonight, Pedroia's return can't come a moment too soon for me, either.

Split Decision

Before this series began, predictions and declarations were made -- the Red Sox needed to take at least three out of four to have a meaningful remainder of the season, I heard at least one commentator say last Friday during the pregame show. The four-game set in the Bronx was hyped and framed as the whole enchilada, ball of wax, you name it, THIS WAS THE WHOLE SEASON, RIGHT HERE.

If they'd been swept, sure. I could see sticking in the proverbial fork after such a thing. And obviously winning the series would've been a huge boost to the ego, a solid enough foundation to build renewed optimism upon. 

But reality, as usual, turned out to be somewhere in the middle, with a wild card (so to speak) thrown in.

The Sox took the first game of the series handily behind a solid outing from Clay Buchholz on Friday night, as footage of Dustin Pedroia running on the Yankee Stadium infield was shown. "Looking at him, you can tell he's still thinking about it," said Tito afterwards, reporting that Pedroia was found not to be game-ready after the brief set of sprints from one baseline to the middle of the infield.

And it's true. We were provided a closeup by NESN shortly after that quote from Tito, of Pedroia in conversation with a teammate behind the dugout fence, but looking away every so often toward the camera he didn't realize was zooming in. He stared off, clearly preoccupied, between the intermittent bursts of words tossed over his left shoulder toward whomever he was talking to, stroking the Youk-style beard he's grown.

Still. Being on schedule may feel behind schedule to Pedey, but it's encouraging for the rest of us. Combined with the win on Friday night, there was plenty of fuel for optimism as the weekend arrived.

On Saturday, which featured the weakest pitching matchup for the Sox going in -- Lackey / Sabathia -- the game most thought Boston would lose turned out as expected. 

That, in turn, led to a dramatic showdown on Sunday night, with the pitcher you'd historically want most on the mound in such a game starting for us in Josh Beckett. 

It's unfair, really, to put so much meaning onto a single game, as plenty of the groundwork for the team's tenuous position in the standings was laid well before it came down to this. It is even more unfair, I thought as I watched Beckett implode against the Yankee lineup again, to place THE ENTIRE REST OF THE SEASON on one particular pitching start. Does it really mean he's singlehandedly blown THE ENTIRE REST OF THE SEASON? 

Still, it was difficult not to cast about for someone to blame as the Sox continued to take an embarrassing beating from the Bombers. Difficult not to quibble, for example, with a lineup that sat Mike Lowell while starting Kevin Cash, who made a boneheaded throw to third in the bottom of the fifth, tacking another run onto the Yankees' haul that inning.

Difficult, also, not to picture the faces that should've been there, and not to dwell on the woulda coulda shouldas. In that vein, I can only imagine what instincts seized Dustin Pedroia as he watched Bill Hall airmail a ball past V-Mart on what could've been a spectacular out in the bottom of the second. Or what might've been on Varitek or Youkilis' minds when Cash tossed the ball into left field*.   

In the meantime, off in the Great White North, there was that wild card -- the Rays collapsed over the weekend in Toronto, losing five straight between last Wednesday and yesterday, including a sweep at the hands of the fourth-place Jays. Yesterday they even came close to being no-hit for what would've been the third time this season, only escaping that indignity vs. Brandon Morrow with two outs in the top of the ninth.

All of this rendered the series with New York much less significant, as the Red Sox retained their toehold in the Wild Card standings thanks to the Rays' losing streak. And then finally, today, behind 6 1/3 strong innings from Jon Lester, the Sox squeaked by with a series split in a 2-1 win.

And so, as momentous as this series was predicted to be, its outcome -- status quo, 6.0 games out of first place and 4.0 games out of the Wild Card -- leaves more questions than answers. And to tell you the truth, I'm not sure what's supposed to be decided here, even as I'm sure I've been made to feel as if something should be. Even if the Red Sox had gotten swept, meaning we could all officially "give up", what does that really mean, in the end? None of us watch baseball games for the rest of the summer? How unrealistic is that?

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* We had some clue about Pedroia's reaction last night, as ESPN's cameras focused on a commotion in the Red Sox dugout. John Farrell had Pedroia in a headlock next to the Gatorade coolers, clapping a hand over Pedroia's mouth (well, actually, his entire face) and hollering something at Tito, who approached with what could only have been a pithy response. ESPN remarked that Pedroia is driving the coaching staff crazy in the dugout**; I can believe it. Last night it looked like his last ounce of self-restraint had given way, at least temporarily.

** Meanwhile, I have also wondered if the prominent presence of Pedroia and Youkilis in the dugout following their injuries -- Pedroia has made a point to travel with the team and take treatment wherever they happen to be playing, and Youkilis will return to as soon as possible following his hand surgery -- has been a kind of tacit editorializing vis a vis Ellsbury-gate. I still find the suggestion that Ellsbury was at fault for the team's losses earlier this month because he was absent when he could allegedly play a load of hogwash, but seeing Pedroia and Youk act as they have, I am willing to concede there could also be a nugget of truth at the heart of all that drama.

Hey, la, Hey la...

Josh Beckett In The Bullpen, originally uploaded by tjperr

...Josh Beckett's Back.

5.2 innings, five Ks, one run. Not a career performance, of course, and it ended on a dismayed note as Terry Francona removed him mid-inning when he strayed above a strict pitch count in the top of the sixth.

But there's a palpable smolder about Beckett as he makes his return from an extended stay on the DL, and he got in his swaggers off the field last night in Seattle. The Ks weren't cheap, either -- and they came on the fastball, a 12-6 curveball and a nasty slider.

As is his norm, he scattered hits (5), but surrendered few runs. As has been his rotten luck in the past, Beckett also put in a solid effort, only to be denied a win for his troubles. Scott Atchison* took that honor, since the previous night's subject of scorn, Bill Hall, wouldn't hit his game-winning homer until the top of the seventh. 

Not to be forgotten in last night's crisp 2-1 win: Adran Beltre, who laid the foundation for Hall's later heroics with a double to deep left center, and Kevin Youkilis, for scoring a run on that hit, and for the resurrection of The Full-On Beard. It has obviously been there to protect Youk during this time of injury, and continues to be a source of his power. I would like the slowly spreading Beard to know that I appreciate it, even if it never got the chance to prove itself on the national stage in the All-Star Game.

P.S. Eyebrows of Concern to Jonathan Papelbon, who made things a bit too much of an adventure again in the bottom of the ninth. What gives, guy? Well, when you get your act together, I'll be over here, picking out entrance music for Daniel Bard.

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* who comes with but one item attached to the mental file I have with his name on it: the memory of someone behind me in the grandstand at Fenway saying loudly, "Why is my Dad pitching for the Red Sox?!"

Bonus Baseball

Tonight, the Sox got back up off the mat. They were down a run with two outs in the bottom of the ninth, having been unable to solve Cliff Lee for most of the game, when Kevin Youkilis and his lumberjack's ruddy beard, stepped to the plate and fired a single into left to bring what Don Orsillo called "Bonus Baseball" to Fenway.

Mike Cameron put a charge into the first pitch he saw in the 10th inning from Rangers reliever Alexi Ogando. NESN hadn't even finished going over Ogando's stats when they had to kill the graphic and call what looked to be the walkoff home run for Boston.

Instead, as the camera homed in on deep left center, Nelson Cruz reached into the Boston bullpen and plucked the homer back.

Cameron's face, as he stopped dead in his tracks just past first base, was deadpan. Numb. Shocked. On the dugout steps, Papelbon swore. Manny Delcarmen was warming, about to make his first appearance coming off the DL. No pressure, kid. 

But Delcarmen was solid, and backed by stellar defense from Adrian Beltre and Do-it-all-Bill-Hall, who pulled a Dustin Pedroia impression, diving onto his face to snag a grounder and end the top of the 11th, giving the Sox another turn at bat with the score still tied.

A sacrifice and an error later, and the Sox had men at second and third with no outs in the 11th. The Rangers intentionally walked Ortiz, loading the bases.

Inexplicably, the Rangers elected to walk Papi and have submariner Darren O'Day face the man who'd tied the game two innings earlier. Once again, Youkilis delivered, in the form of a walk-off sacrifice fly to deep center, scoring Marco Scutaro for the first Red Sox win of the second half. 

Just call this the MacGyver team, because right now they're engineering wins with a paper clip, ballpoint pen, rubber band, tweezers, nasal spray, and a turkey baster. 

Proud Mary Keeps on Burning

Remember last winter and all the butthurt over whether or not the Sox would have offense? Somehow, even with all the injuries, this team keeps stamping out wins, and they remain third in the league in batting average, second in home runs, second in hits, and first in RBI to boot.

Last night that charge was led by none other than the Large Father himself, who reminded us he still knows his way around a batters' box with a towering shot off James Shields (who threw a tantrum on the mound before the ball had even left the park) into the right-field corner -- almost the same spot where Papi's Game 4 home run landed off Paul Quantrill back in 2004.

This came after a tense, scoreless, first four innings -- you could hear in Don Orsillo's voice how good it felt to call out, "Ortiz! To deep right field!!" Papi even did that little flourish with his bat at the end of his swing, the way he does when he knows he's really connected. Just like old times.

The beatings continued with extreme prejudice after that, featuring a key hit from Jason Varitek and a Bill Hall homer, till the score was so lopsided I began to wish run differential mattered in the standings the way it does in the World Cup tournament (our bullpen gave some back, so in the end it's probably for the best that it doesn't).

All this wasn't against some NL basement-dweller. This was against one of our chief rivals in the AL East this year, and put Boston within a game of first place in the division. And the three chief players in that effort were known back in April as our washed-up DH, our creaky old batless catcher, and some random dude we picked up from Seattle.

Quoth Theo,

We'll keep relying on players who may not be household names to most of our fans, but are here for a reason. We'll continue to find ways to win and there's a really good spirit about this club and everyone is pulling for one another and we've thrived on getting those contributions from some unlikely sources. We need to keep that going.

But perhaps we've said too much.