It’s over, thanks to Dr. Double Mike Lowell’s home run checkup. And Bobby Kielty’s off-the-bench pick me up. And Jason Varitek’s game-calling.
It’s over, thanks to an overwhelming performance from rookie lefty Jon Lester, the man who was on chemotherapy a year ago, yet now got through nearly six innings of shutout ball to thwart the Rockies.
It’s over thanks to unbelievable fan support, even in the Rocky Mountains.
It’s over, despite multiple attempts by the Yankees to steal thunder with a managerial and A-Rod announcement.
It’s over after a complete whitewash in Colorado, which suddenly went from unstoppable force to National League also-rans.
It’s over, thanks to Terry Francona, who is the first manager in history to win his first eight World Series games.
It’s over, thank God, with all the drama, or lack thereof in half of the World Series.
It’s over, and God bless Boston … and the Red Sox.
Paps isn’t just a world class closer, he’s a world class partier, too.
The Red Sox exploded for the ALCS crown. They didn’t just win, they took a close game and blew it up to the tune of a nine-run victory. And five of those runs came from Boston’s newest favorite son, Mighty Mite Dustin Pedroia.
Manny knocked in the first run, but that was it from the big boys, Ramirez and Big Papi. The rest came from Pedroia, sudden star Kevin Youkilis. And naturally, Hideki Okajima and Jonathan Papelbon was there to close the door.
Of course all of this is to overlook the job done by Daisuke Matsuzaka. He wasn’t great, but was pretty close through the first three innings. The fourth and fifth were shaky, a run given up in each, but the Dice-Man flexed everything he had in the first three, striking batters out with high heat, darting cutters and a screwball that almost looked gyro-ish.
Now, as Sox players prepare to recover from a night when they all deserved their own Rachel Boston, they have a moment to breathe before what is almost sure to be a very chilly World Series. And guess who’s starting Game 1 Wednesday?
Yes, there is a gorgeous actress named Boston. We didn’t make it up. Check her imdb page here.
That’s right, Mr. F-bomb himself: Josh Beckett. Time to dial up the drama. Again. But let’s finish the celebrating first shall we?
How else can you describe last night’s Game 6 throttling of the Indians? A 40 year-old starter who showed up to spring training bigger than a blimp came through with a gutsy, seven-inning performance. The most maligned man in Boston hit a first inning grand slam and tacked on another RBI in his second trip up. Even Eric Gagne pitched a perfect inning.
J.D. Drew got a full swallow of redemption in the first inning last night.
Indeed, for all involved - especially Curt Schilling, J.D. Drew and Gagne - Game 6 was a true redemption song. And by singing that tune, the team added a sudden swing to the 2007 ALCS, forcing it into a do-or-die Game 7.
With plenty of doubts swirling around the starters for both teams, it was the old man pitching next to the sea who proved sturdy in the pressure-packed postseason game. Where Cleveland’s Fausto Carmona stumbled, forcing his manager Eric Wedge to lift him in the third inning, Schilling strode confidently on, getting out of a nasty third-inning jam after allowing the first two batters to reach, then watching his teammates erupt for six more runs that truly put the game away.
It was exactly the kind of performance that Sox fans used to expect of Schilling, a playoff prima dona of the highest degree, but a showman who’s always known how to turn his tricks at just the right time. Now, after a Game 2 stumble, it appears he may have hedged his bet right again, coming through at home when Boston needed it. With a similar crap shoot of Game 7 starters - Red Sox and Rising Son ace Daisuke Matsuzaka is determined but has been shaky while Cleveland’s Jake Westbrook has been feast or famine - momentum is firmly on Boston’s side. They have a bullpen that is fully rested and loaded for bear. They have a lineup which has seen its bottom half awaken, to the tune of 12 runs from the likes of Drew, Lugo, Dustin Pedroia and the recently promoted Jacoby Ellsbury. Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz combined for only one hit Saturday night, which just seems to indicate they could explode Sunday.
And, just to add another ace in the hole, they have Josh Beckett mentally ready to pitch in relief on only two days rest if needed.
All of those things could become major factors in Game 7, and any factor could swing the entire series. The pressure is finally even, and Boston doesn’t seem to be feeling it. Yet.
If that trend holds on for one more day, there may be a whole handful more days in the season, and they’re the best ones to have.
That’s what Cleveland gets for trotting out one of Josh Beckett’s former girlfriends, just one among many in a group that could grow after yet another impressive postseason win last night.
Danielle Peck is a looker, but her former boyfriend was the one breaking hearts last night.
What happened on the banks of Lake Erie last night was more than just survival. It was a case of salvation for the Red Sox, a second life heading back home, needing two straight wins at Fenway to advance. While that may seem a mightly troubling task ahead, it’s significantly more palatable than what faced the team heading into the evening, when Boston needed a Beckett win just to make sure they’d see the inner confines of Fenway Park this year.
And the credit for that goes to, not surprisingly, Beckett himself.
Another eight innings with just one more run. That with the brimstone battle between himself and 86 year-old Kenny Lofton, who just fired Joshie up even more, if anything. From there out it was a perfect storm. David Ortiz hit like he has so many times in clutch playoff situations. Manny remained peeved that his first inning single, already being called the longest one-bagger in baseball history, wasn’t a homer and Dustin Pedroia’s shots finally started finding open grass. By the time it all settled down, Jonathan Papelbon was pitching the ninth of a very comfortable, 7-1 win.
Now, as Josh can go back and enjoy a little more of Ms. Peck’s time, the Sox shift their attention to Curt Schilling, needing the one-time postseason star to be one again. Will he come through? Hard to tell. His outing in Game 2 was anything but sterling, yet his reputation precedes himself.
That matter is for another day. Last night was all about Beckett, who got the best of Cleveland and the two-hearted Danielle Peck with another outing for the books.
Go ahead and breathe Sox fans. At least for a day.
Seriously, let’s try not to dwell on it. In fact, after this entry we’re officially going to try and pretend Game 2 of the 2007 ALCS never actually happened. But while we’re stuck thinking about last night’s 11th inning beating, let’s do the rundown of everything we learned, shall we?
1) Eric Gagne is officially a waste of a roster spot at this point. In fact, if he could come up lame with a sore shoulder so we could slip Julian Tavarez or Kyle Snyder back on the playoff pen, that’d be great.
2) Despite a solid single batter spot in the ALDS, Javier Lopez still can’t get out lefties. And he’s a sidewinding lefty. Go figure.
3) Curt Schilling may not be his former dominant postseason self. All he was against the Indians was average, and his inability to get through even five innings - or hold a lead, for that matter - cost Boston dearly, and could eventually cost it the series. We know, we cringe to hear it, too, but it’s the truth.
4) Even with David Ortiz, Manny Ramirez and Mike Lowell bashing their heads off, the Indians lineup is so balanced it can make up for it. That’s a terrifying thought.
5) All that talk about how maybe we’d be better off with Jon Lester starting Game 4 instead of Tim Wakefield? Yeah, we’re sorry we even mentioned that.
6) Now Daisuke Matsuzaka practically HAS to win on Monday. He has to. Or else Boston is all but screwed.
But we’re not talking about any of this stuff anymore, or about how we rolled over this morning and saw the Wicked Witch of the West. It hurts too much.
So do pictures of the disaster, so enjoy the text heavy post folks. We’ll be back soon in search of something uplifting. We hope.
Big Papi and Josh Beckett sent a Hollaback out to the crowd at Fenway last night.
Sure, Josh Beckett wasn’t quite perfect, giving up a wind-aided first inning homer and later allowing a second run to cross. But for every little one-pitch mistake Beckett made, a rejuvenated Red Sox lineup got to C.C. Sabathia, drilling him for seven runs before he left, then connecting for three more off the midsection of the Indians pen.
That can only help confidence for the Red Sox moving forward. Like a one-night stand with Gwen Stefani, for instance.
And as would be appropriate for such a monumental night, Manny Ramirez and David Ortiz were perfect, literally. Big Papi reached base each time he came up, hit once, walked a pair of times and knocking a couple of hits in between. And that’s before Manny fully started being Manny, connecting for a pair of run producing singles and even earning a bases-loaded walk after falling behind two strikes to none.
As the game wore on and it became clear the Sox were trying to run away with a win, it was hard not to hope they’d bottle some of the offense, or at least keep it going for another day. Boston is sure to need similar magic tonight against the overpowering sinker being used by Fausto Carmona. Perhaps his 2006 struggles at Fenway will come back to mesmerize him and make him at least partially hittable in the process.
Who knows. All that mattered last night was that Beckett was on, the entire Sox lineup was on and the Fens got a taste of blood early. Now, if the Sox can pull another Stefani-like superb performance out of their hat today, Boston can head to the shore of Lake Erie feeling pretty confident about itself, perhaps marching behind the lead of that drum major from the bananas song.
That’s right LA of Anaheim of Orange County of California of you get the damn idea. That’s right, Josh Beckett is out to get you. In his Texan dialect, he done hunted your ass down once now. He’s got the scent, and if he has to again, he’ll shoot Jon Lackey right between the eyes.
Ahh, screw it Josh. Go get some. Sox fans won’t judge, you deserve it.
Or many he can leave that to Big Papi and Kevin Youkilis. They certainly did a suitable job of that last night.
But the story, not shockingly, was Beckett’s dominance. At one point he mowed down 19 straight. Nineteen! It’s almost preposterous. And not only did Beckett’s dominance thoroughly frustrate the entire Angels lineup - OK, Vlad the Impaler got a hold of two different pitches that looked impossible to hit and stroked them for singles, but he is Vlad the Impaler - it also saved the Sox bullpen, which can now lineup Hideki Okajima on nearly a full week of rest, not to mention the Irish jigger himself, Jonathan Papelbon.
So, what can you give the guy who just nearly duplicated his epic postseason performance of 2003? What do you give the man who is now riding an 18-inning scoreless streak? Or, because this is The Morning After, who?
You give him the ultimate baseball blogger (seriously, how the hell did she earn that title so fast?), the woman who finally gave up her attempt to sleep through the LA Dodgers rotation (the whole lot of which combined doesn’t have Beckett’s stuff): Alyssa Milano.
Wait, he’s already been there, in 2003? Well, who the hell cares? Alyssa Milano’s still hot. Smoking hot. And Josh Beckett is still nasty. Filthy nasty.
Charmed may have been one of the worst shows of all-time. But it did give birth to this scene, so I think we’re going to call it even.
So we’re hooking it up again. Joshie deserves it after last night. And just think of the possibilities. The last time he was with Ms. Milano, Josh Beckett was sizing up his first World Series ring. Too bad it had an ugly fish on it.
Maybe this time he can get another one, one that might even be a bit prettier. If he gets help from Dice-K tomorrow and Curt Schilling Sunday, he’ll be well on his way.
Remember a couple of days ago, when we wrote about how sometimes the best help a team can get comes from an enemy? Well, last night it just came from a different enemy, one you usually can’t count on getting help from.
Paps was in the spirit last night. Sox fans will just hope he gets back in the spirit what, three more times?
That’s right. Thank you Baltimore.
With the Orioles furious comeback and dramatic 10th inning victory over the Yankees, the Red Sox sealed their first AL East title in 12 years. This on the heels of the best Dice-K outing in a couple of weeks - a win which the Dice-man will be able to stew over and gain confidence from for a full week - and suddenly life is rosy again. Like spending a night with Marisa Miller. Sure, she’s a surfer from California, which might not seem like the best karma heading into a series against a team once called the California Angels. But who cares. Boston is the AL East champion, and Marisa Miller’s about as hot as you can get.
That’s right. It’s a celebration bitches.
And why shouldn’t it be? Sure, there were rough moments the past month. Or two. And there’s been plenty of hystrionics as a result, many of which Terry Francona and co. probably didn’t fully deserve (some of them they did).
But in the end, it’s all turned out about as well as it could have in the regular season. The Sox have a bona fide Cy Young candidate, and it’s not the one almost anyone would have thought it would be, with the notable exception of the Globe’s Gordon Edes, of couse. Dasiuke Matsuzaka has 15 wins, despite a late-season slump and at least three, if not four, games in which he should have earned a win if his team had shown up with any bats at all. Curt Schilling has looked better in his last three starts than in the rest of the season - near no-hitter not included - and despite concern about Hideki Okajima, even Eric Gagne looked strong the last couple of times out. If you can overlook the sudden loss of Clay Buchholz, who had the potential to make a serious impact as a rookie, there’s little to be upset about at the moment.
And then there’s all to be happy about. An AL East title. A 50 percent shot of the best record in the bigs headed into the playoffs. A chance to line up the rotation perfectly, while also resting Big Papi, who blasted another bomb last night, Manny and the rest of the regulars.
Mmmmm. Marisa Miller. That’s a celebration worth winning, huh?
All of that is secondary to last night’s champagne room, of course, a celebration worthy of Ms. Miller herself. Red Sox fans will be hoping to see more of her, of course, but it’s nice to see an initial appearance before the end of the regular season for a chance, isn’t it?
Ever been in a situation where you’re really proud of one accomplishment, but know that there’s an even bigger step on the immediate horizon? Welcome to the world of fellow Red Sox fans.
Make no mistake, the team’s last couple wins have been huge accomplishments. Two nights ago the Sox needed to get a win and solid performance from Curt Schilling. They got both. Last night they needed a win to keep momentum going, not to mention take a huge step toward officially getting rid of all digits in the “magic number” column.
They’re close. That counter now reads two, with a chance to wrap up the organization’s first AL East crown in 13 years as early as tomorrow. Still, until the final score from a Sox win or Yankee loss in a clincher goes up on the big left field scoreboard, cementing it, no Sox fans are going to be breathing any easier.
Does that diminish the strong vibes from yesterday’s win? Not at all. But it does make it a little hard to enjoy completely. Remember the Real World Las Vegas? Last night’s win takes a cue from that season. It’s a little like getting drunk and hooking up with Brynn, enjoying the experience but knowing all the while that you really want to land a night with Trischelle, who’s more attractive and a much bigger slut (clearly, anyone that would have dated Steven, one of the all-time Real World douchebags, would have to be). It almost cheapens the whole Brynn experience, doesn’t it?
Sure, it absolutely does. But that doesn’t mean the night with Trichelle won’t be glorious. It just means that you have to make sure it’s happening. The Sox have four games to get rid of the number two. Whether they do it with two wins or a win and a Yankee loss or even, God forbid, two Yankee losses, that hardly matters. What does matter is that they get to the finish line of a quest which started months ago. A drive toward a division title that has been more elusive than in any other stretch of the team’s history.
Trischelle and Irulan? Both had quite the, ummm, prolific love life in Vegas.
After last night’s walk-away, they have all the weapons to do it, including Eric Gagne, who finally pitched a relatively drama-free inning of late relief. Jonathan Pepelbon’s sitting amped in the pen. Manny Ramirez is back to being himself, and Big Papi is hitting up a storm. All of that, of course, is before even factoring in Mike Lowell, who has now officially put up the greatest offensive season for a third baseman in team history.
There’s no excuses. Two games left in the column. All the weapons. Like having a handle of vodka with Trischelle in the signature suite of the Palms. Viva Las Vegas? Screw it. Viva Las Fenway. Viva Las Back Bay. Viva Las North End.
Viva Boston. Sox fans just need to hope they can make it an AL East champion city again.
Ahhh, a night with Roseanne Barr. Doesn’t get much worse than that. And think, the blonde variety is about as GOOD as you can get with her. Yuck.
Look, we love the knuckler as much as anyone around. Without Wakefield, the Sox rotation wears down quicker. The bullpen struggles because it’s overworked earlier in the season. That taxes the offense with a need to produce more on a day-to-day basis. It’s a trickle down effect, we get it.
Still, it’s time to come to the realization that since back spasms first felled him three weeks ago, Wake has been a shadow of his former self. He can’t get the knuckleball to flutter the way he needs it to. When that doesn’t happen, his other stuff, i.e. slow and straight, gets absolutely crushed. See the Delmon Young homer yesterday afternoon.
Where does that leave the Sox? Next to a pretty rough redneck in the morning. Think Rosanne Barr, hopefully after lipo. After all, it may have been a loss to the Devil Rays, but hell, there was a rally in there, right?
Unfortunately, the rally wasn’t exactly a big one. And now the AL East lead isn’t exactly that big, either. Fourteen-plus games is suddenly 1 1/2. And that is as tenuous as ever. The Yankees get the D-Rays as the season closes out. The Sox? Oakland and Minnesota. Not giant killers, but not exactly patsies, either.
And what happens, God forbid, if the Sox do blow the divisional lead? It’s a huge psychological mind-screw with the Yankees, should the teams match up in the playoffs. But even before that, it puts the Sox at a big disadvantage. Not only has Boston squandered a lead in the division, it has let a lead on the best overall record in the AL slip away, meaning that the Sox are likely to open the postseason on the road instead of inside the friendly confines of Fenway Park. That hurts, especially if it means a trip, perhaps even two, across the country to take on the Angels, who wrapped up the AL West yesterday afternoon.
It all makes for a big dilemma, the kind that you need a lot of time to scratch your head and think through. Kind of like trying to figure out the circumstances that led to waking up next to Rosanne Barr. Uggghhh!
