Keep That Broom Out...

...Halloween is in two days, you know? What I'm trying to say is that you might as well not bother to put away that World Series broom because this is the time of year when it's most useful.

I struggled with some kind of quirky intro to this post. Truth be told, I sat up in bed last night as the game was wrapping up and I thought about what I would write. A few minutes into my contemplation, Lauren asked me what I would write about. A few minutes ago, my brother Mike emailed me and asked where my post was, suggesting that surely I'd have been up until 1am carving out some sort of literary diatribe on the Series...maybe diatribe isn't the right word but I could fuel this post with the usual sardonic tone. Either way, I wanted to bring in the post with something other than a typical intro about the Sox winning the Series. Ultimately what I came up with fell about ten yards short of where I was aiming for in terms of effectiveness and/or humor. Oh well, win some, lose most.

The Sox winning the Series will always be a special thing to me and to all Sox fans around the globe, but this time it was just a little different than when I experienced in 2004. And if I can say so, I am more excited about the future of this team than I am about the present...tough to admit that, considering what has just transpired...I know. But these are my thoughts.

The other question Lauren posed to me last night had to do with my feelings this time around as opposed to 2004. I didn't have a great answer for her then, and I'm not sure what I've come up with in terms of bloggery is much more poetic but it's been very difficult to put into words. 2004 was a very special year for Sox fans and for me, it meant a good amount of isolation during playoff time. I spent the duration of the Yankee series in solitary, just me, a tv and a stool set up no more than 2 feet in front of the screen. I left it all out there and at the end of that excruciating series I was left with a sense of peace and serenity that only the Dalai Lama could be on par with. I watched the Series with my father and we rejoiced together when the inevitable happened. It was probably one of the happiest moments of my life when Mientkiewicz squeezed that last out and dream became reality. What made that so special was watching that with my father, who had suffered through much more than I had. He had three times the time investment in the Sox that I did and a much more vivid memory of Buckner, Bucky Dent, Carlton Fisk, Jim Lonborg...but it was elation that I had never experienced before. It was something I'll never forget.

Enter the 2007 Series. I have a greater love for this team than I did for the the self-proclaimed 'Idiots'. Sure, Trot is my all-time favorite to ever don the Red and White but this year's team displays the likes of Jacoby Ellsbury, Dustin Pedroia, Pap, Jon Lester...these are homegrown guys just like Trot, but they've barely even begun their careers in baseball. They're excitable, inspiring, electric personalities that seem to get it...they know where they are, the stage they're on and the scrutiny they're under. Or do they? Maybe the early success skews all of that, I don't know. But I adore this team. The 2004 team made me believe...the 2007 team held my belief and did what they were supposed to do. They met my expectations and for that I am grateful. Regardless, neither team owed me anything from the start but they certainly both made it clear to me why I am a fan...because sometimes that emotional investment I make in something as trivial as a hometown team can instill a lot of happiness.

That brings me to a point that I want to make here; a point that really only became apparent to me this season. There are, of course, reasons as to how it became apparent but I will save those for a later post. There's this inherent sense of entitlement with Red Sox fans. There's a feeling that individually, the men who play for the Sox owe them, as fans, something in the way of performance. I can't sat that I thought this in these exact terms in the past, but I have certainly felt my share of entitlement over the years. I felt short-changed by guys like Edgar Renteria and Matt Clement. I've muttered things like "...and we're paying this guy $10 million this year?" The problem with that statement is the "we" aspect. There's no we here. It's them, and it's me, or us as fans that are involved in this relationship. Some might argue that as ticket buyers, we are paying salaries and therefore it's a "we" thing. Well, it's not. Let's be realistic here.

I sat and watched newscasters this season as they covered the Sox in the Series, the ALCS and the ALDS. Most would say things like, "Well folks, we gave it our all tonight and it was just enough..." I would think to myself that when even the media is imparting this sense of "we" onto its viewers, it's hard to not think of it as such. When the largest supplier of furniture in New England offers free furniture to its customers if the Sox win the Series, it might become a "we" situation for a lot of fans since their furniture may now be bought by the Sox if they should win the World Series. "We have to win!", they might have said. Oddly, I look to Manny's statement about whatever happens, happens (or whatever happen, happen) and there's always next year. Years past, I'm livid about this statement from the much-maligned left fielder of the World Champs. This year, not really at all. I thought to myself, hmm. He's absolutely got the right point of view here, even being as it is that he can be such a dog. I agree with Manny. Because in the end, it's a game. No one one this team, the 2004 team, the 1986 team, any of them...none of them owe me a damned thing. In a way, shame on me for having been so completely entrenched in it for so long. Shame on me for having put so many tears, so much sweat and so much vocal strain into what they are doing for so many years. Has it ever mattered? Maybe a little. Has it ever meant more than say, an exam, work or a relationship? Probably. But not anymore. So many things are more important.

Look, I know ballplayers are probably overpaid. Although I don't think I would feel that way if it were me playing in front of 36,000 rabid fans on a fairly regular basis, under that microscope that is the national media. Ultimately, I have a lot of respect for these guys and what they are able to endure over the course of a season. I think many athletes make suitable role models for our youth (leaving a lot of things unsaid there...trust me, I know...that's a whole other post) and on the other side of the steroids and drugs, there are charities like Youk's Kids, the Jimmy Fund and thousands of others that are the recipients of millions of dollars and cumulative efforts of people who want to do right. In a perfect world, we focus on this and save the crap for the back page. No, I'm not delusional and I know what sells and grabs ratings. But it gets old. I digress...watching our hometown team joyously jump around like school boys because they've reached the pinnacle of pro sports will never get old. And I'll never shame myself for letting that make me happy.

Congratulations to the 2007 World Champion Boston Red Sox.

Way to go, boys.

Rolaids in the 'Pen

That's right, R-O-L-A-I-D-S spells R-E-L-I-E-F. If you have gas, Jonathan Papelbon and Hideki Okajima might just be able to settle your stomach.

Last night at the old ballyard, Curt Schilling was the prime rib, the potatoes and the green beans. Oki and Pap provided the milk and cookies to finish off the meal and everyone went home satisfied. Sure, this wasn't the dominating start that Josh Beckett provided for the faithful on Wednesday evening but it was vintage Schilling. It was the playoff-potent pitcher who has done it before and done it well. And this time, sans bloody sock and free of most of that 2004 drama, he had to be someone entirely different.

Schilling, who now has to be categorized in the 'Crafty Veteran' genre, has to really reach back to hit low 90's on the radar gun. When he throws a riser, it usually means that it's rising right out of the park. But on the other end of that, he's got this deceptive, lose-your-lunch splitter that Troy Tulowitski will be having nightmares about for years to come. It's an interesting feeling when, as a fan, I sit there and watch Schilling and think, "Ok, lead-off man is on, that's fine. Double play perhaps...but that guy won't score." I expect him to put men on base in pretty much every inning that he pitches. And I expect one or two of them to score. But what I don't expect is that he's going to have one of those implosion innings that so many pitchers are susceptible to when things start to go awry. With his experience, knowledge of the game and awareness of his surroundings, I just never get to the point where I know he's going to give up the big hit. Granted, he has done that this season. When he was pitching at maybe 70% of his full health he was that guy who gave up big hits and couldn't manage games. Not playoff Schilling, though. He manages individual pitches, counts, innings and that translates to game management. The result is just what we all saw last night: 1 ER.

Then you get to Oki and Pap, aka milk and cookies. Let's cut through the verbose drama here and call it like it is. In Oki, you get a guy who throws an 88-89mph fastball with movement in to righties and movement out to lefties, a devastating change/curve and the hurky-jerky delivery that would unsettle Rod Carew. Then you bring in Pap, death stare and all, with a deliberate delivery and straight gas, up to 97mph when he's really slingin' it. Add in a 85mph change and it's a perfect differentiation of styles that will make it extremely difficult for hitters to adjust to over the course of an inning or two. And here you have Okajima able to pitch 4, 5 or 6 outs with little to no scarring. That is what's most valuable. Here's a guy who had to take to the bench in September with a dead arm and now he's better than he's been all season (which is saying a LOT) when it matters most.

These pitchers are clearly on a mission to win this 103rd World Series. They have very clear-but game plans when they enter and when they exit, it's a fact that the next in from the bullpen will know what he's going to from the first pitch he throws. Oh, and you also have a dynamite percussion section lead by Admiral Timlin that reminds us all that we're not the only ones enjoying this game. We're all watching a complete team; a dominant force and a purebred World Champion. It's all there, they just have to keep their focus and do what they know they can do.

Close Encounter of the First Kind

***This entry is dedicated to the wonderful Cindi Goldstein, without whom this encounter would not have been possible***

There's a first time for everything, isn't there? In my case, there's a one and only time for what I experienced out in Malibu/Pacific Palisades, CA last week. This is one of those relationship-defining moments where, following it, nothing can really be considered weird or off limits anymore. In terms of breaking down walls or things of that nature, this would fall under the category of utter annihilation of walls and all things attached to and surrounding them. Disintegration of walls.

After a nice and casual lunch just off the Pacific Coast Highway in the Palisades, Cindi (Lauren's mom, has appeared in the blog a few times prior to) and I elected to go up to the family's house and see the dogs, chat further, spend a little more time together in general. To give you an idea of my relationship with Cindi up until this point, it had pretty much been an easy transition into a friendship from the start. We managed to avoid any real weirdness the first night we met, when upon being left alone very early on in the process, we engaged in a conversation about the future Notre Dame savior, Jimmy Clausen. At that time he was only a commitment, but Cindi had seen him play a while back against her youngest son Tito. Turns out that Jimmy was a few years older than the other boys he was playing with and against, making him look like Tom Brady out there. I digress, though...the point is, we dove into some interesting conversation from the start and never looked back.

Future moments would include dinners, drinking at local watering holes, and learning from Cindi that Jewish women are especially adept at...how do I put this...let's say making their male partner happy? I'll leave it there. But you get the point...no censors with her and I love that. I don't like to watch what I say, and I certainly have a flare for saying the inappropriate at the most inopportune times. All of this being said, none of it would ultimately prepare me for what was to transpire following our lunch that afternoon.

After some light conversation about various things, something happened that would forever change the course of potential-future-mother-in-law/daughter's boyfriend relationships everywhere. Or, at least for me and Lauren's mom. As we sat at the table chatting, she rose from her chair and approached me.

"I need you to do something for Lauren. You have to feel my expanders and tell her what they feel like."

Since I momentarily blacked out when this was posed to me, I probably said one of two things. It was either "Whoa, you want me to feel you up and tell your daughter what it was like???", or "(gulp)...Gagagoogoo." That would be gibberish, since I would have no idea what to say in that situation. But gagagoogoo seems most appropriate.

To give some more background here, Cindi has expanders for her future breast implants, which will be a result of a double mastectomy, which was a result of breast cancer. She has bravely fought through the chemotherapy and surgery and now it's the stage where these expanders are inserted to make room in there for her new "girls", as she referred to them during one of our conversations. These expanders felt like she had stones under her shirt, or small mounds of cement. They feel utterly uncomfortable and intrusive, but apparently they're not so bad. I guess after all that she's been through, nothing can really be all that uncomfortable, even having your daughter's boyfriend feel your boobs...or the place where your boobs will eventually be.

All in all, it was an experience that I will never forget and it most certainly falls under the category of 'Things I Never Thought I'd Get To Do In Life". But I am very, very thankful that I have the kind of relationship with her that I do and I wouldn't have it any other way.

We're Not in Red Sox Nation Anymore

Maybe "League of United Red Sox Nations" is more appropriate? To the two Japanese pitchers who effectively iced Game 7 of the 2007 ALCS, along with Jonathan Papelbon's additional 2 innings of shutdown ball. The presence of Far Eastern baseball is stronger than ever in Boston, and I can't imagine what this is all like for the Okajima and Matsuzaka.

Two pitchers coming over from a 6-team league in Japan, having never seen the tenacity, vigor and sheer electric power of a playoff crowd at Fenway Park...much less a 7th and deciding game of the ALCS to vault the winner into the 103rd World Series against the National League champ Rockies. Daisuke was as good as he needed to be and just barely that. He pitched into and out of jams several times, allowing the Indians to sniff the lead, but never quite realize it. He was aided by that occasional gem from Manny in left. He was aided by the invaluable brain and experience of Jason Varitek behind the plate. And ultimately, he was aided by an offense that eventually exploded like it should have in he early going against Jake Westbrook. As they say, better late than never, right?

My confidence in Okajima is absolutely unwavering. I have as much in him as I do in Papelbon, and that is something that I never thought would even be a embryo of a thought back in Spring Training. It's his ability to never let up against a hitter that amazes me the most. He'll get down 2-o in a count and spot an 89mph fastball on the inner half of the plate, and then get a swinging strike on absolute junk. Then the advantage is gone from the hitter and field is even again. Advantage: Okajima. Every time. He appears to be fearless out there, no matter what he comes into. I'm looking forward to his continuing efforts in a Sox uniform, in the World Series and into next season. 2 years, 2.5 million dollars? I'm sorry, what? 41 Okajima's would equal one Daisuke. That's some shit.

World Series

Let's have a little fun with some anagrams that we can get out of World Series. Here goes nuthin;.

Worried Less - I don't know if I've worried less about a series, and not that this is a bad thing. But I was truly concerned heading into the Cleveland series because of their lineup and their #1 and #2 starters, respectively. I am, however, worried about Colorado's potent attack and their level of confidence heading into this thing. It's not like they don't know what adversity is, or that they don't know how to play with their back up against the wall. I guess the two clubs are similar in that regard.

Weird Losers - For the Rockies, it might be a little weird for them if they should lose because they really haven't felt what that is in a long time. So they could be in for some weirdness. For the Sox, it could be weird in a whole different light. I mean, they just came off of another epic comeback in a best-of-7 and they're riding high. A loss in this 2007 WS would be sobering for both teams, because I don't think either has that 'lucky to be here' outlook that some teams might. They're legit. I can't believe I'm saying the Rockies are 'legit', though. A month ago, they weren't even in the picture. Weird.

Dowel Risers - In this case, a dowel would be the metaphor for bat. In Coors Field, there should be plenty of rising. I think it's totally realistic to think that this series could produce the most home runs ever in a 7-game series. By the way, I have no idea what that record is. I can't find it online, either. Little help here?

Wireless Rod - I don't know, it sounded cool I guess.

Sliders, Re: Ow - see Jonathan Papelbon's 1 and 1 offering to Ryan Garko last night. Indeed, ow. That thing was sick, gross, nasty, ridiculous, unhittable, the list goes on. I reiterate: Pap is a crazy bastard. I love it.

Beat the Heat II

Betancourt v. Pedroia, Round II

Let's see here, what do I throw to Dustin on this here first pitch? Perhaps a fastball over the heart of the plate, slightly up, but one that he can drive to the wall to clear the bases and put the game completely out of reach.

See you on Wednesday...beware of the extremely obvious Fox promos to come: Sox and Rox on Fox, etc.

Greet the Heat

Papelbon throws a 98mph heater to sit Hafner down, then throws a RIDICULOUS 85mph slider to Garko on a 1-1 pitch that made not only Garko look stupid, but Varitek, too.

In the words of Dan Dierdorf, I'm apoplectic.

Beat the Heat

Top 8th currently...I hope this post doesn't change any course of anything or something like that.

I have a question right now, and it can't wait until morning: do pitchers in the AL just refuse to believe that Dustin Pedroia can't hit a fastball? (***text just came in from Hammen. It reads simply 'Petey!!!')

Calm Like A Bomb

If Alex Rodriguez wonders what it's like to be able to perform in the postseason, he should just ask Josh Beckett. Not that JB doesn't also have a firm grasp on things in the regular season as well, but his prowess when September ends is simply uncanny.

Showing yet again why is he is the ace of the Sox staff, Beckett absolutely dominated the Cleveland Indians last night at Jacobs Field in Cleveland, setting up another Schilling-Carmona duel that I hope will live up to its billing a little moreso than it did the first time around. So how good was Beckett last night? Well, you tell me. 8 IP, 11K's, 1 ER and he threw GAS up through his last pitch. In the first inning he featured a 97 mph heater. In the 8th, it was 96. Not much fall off there. He is lights out in the postseason and he has been throughout his career. The scary part about that statement is that Beckett still has a long way to do in that career, barring injury. He's young, he's nasty and he's battle-tested. And he's going to be in a Sox uniform for a long time.

This all having been said, the Sox are still down 3-2 in a series that has seen the Indians have their way with everyone else from Boston with the exception of Beckett. Boston is looking at a glaring hole at the bottom of its order in Crisp and Lugo, so don't be surprised if the spry Jacoby Ellsbury is inserted into the lineup for Saturday's sixth game. For me, I could have been thrilled with Ellsbury in the lineup from day one of the playoffs, considering he ended the season smoldering at the plate and having played flawless defense in both center and left. The Sox need to do something about the bottom of their order, because right now there are two automatic outs down there and that is really helping out Cleveland pitching. Their lineup is a National lineup, only with two pitchers. It's pathetic and it simply has to be attended to.

The middle of the lineup is its usual stout self, even with Manny continuing to dog it on hits to the outfield and running the bases in general. It's hard for me to sit here and complain about him though. I mean, he is hitting .440 with 2 HRs and 7RBIs in the ALCS. Tough to argue with that, no matter how much of a dog he is. Ortiz is, well, Ortiz. Pedroia and Youkilis are starting to really heat up and Lowell is just plain solid in the 5 hole. Heck, even JD Drew is showing signs of a faint pulse in the batter's box. But 8 and 9 are severe weaknesses for this offense.

No matter what happens with the outcome of this series, I have a new respect for the Indians, their relievers and their lineup, top to bottom. They have probably the most consistent order in all of baseball with a bunch of guys who make contact and hit the ball hard nearly all of the time. I admit that I didn't see much of them in the regular season, nor did I think they would be this relentless in the postseason. They've outplayed Boston so far, but thankfully this is a best of seven series. As we all know at this point, the Sox need every game in order to come out on top.

He Didn't Get The Memo

Tony Romo must have been sleeping at his desk when the memo came out about the TPS reports...it seems as if Tony isn't really clear on what these TPS reports are, exactly. Well Ton', it's pretty simple: TPS stands for Total Patriot Shellacking.

"I would have liked to have seen the outcome if we had made that 4th and 1."

I'm sorry, what? I guess we can give the quarterback on America's team a pass on knowing the numbers, since he was speaking at the post-game press conference just following his shower. I have news for you, Tony. That 4th and 1 meant nothing in the outcome of this game. The Cowboys were dominated, you were dominated and thankfully no more critics will be coupling your name with that of the incomparable Tom Brady for at least a few weeks...which should be about as long as it might take for them to forget about what took place at Texas Stadium on the 14th of October.

When you consider the fact that the Patriots held the ball for nearly twice as long as the Cowboys (38:15 to 21:45) and couldn't run the ball to save a life, you can start to understand the will they imposed on the team that is no longer among the unbeatens in the NFL; according to their coach Wade Phillips, they're no longer to be considered an elite team, either.

Brady picked about a pretty good defense with short, medium and long passes, not giving the Dallas D a chance to rest its bones. No Maroney, no Morris, no matter. Short passes replaced the running game and Wes Welker reminded fans why he is the best slot receiver in the game. His combination of speed, agility and toughness was good enough for 11 catches, 124 yards and 2 TD's on the day. When you consider the host of talent in Brady's receiving corps, who you double cover will only go to determine which receiver(s) will take the spotlight and have a career game. Welker had never had 100 yards receiving in a game before, but my sense is that this won't be his last as long as he's in a Patriot uniform.

Most of the hype generated heading into this "Duel in Dallas" centered around the two 81's; Terrell Owens and Randy Moss. Granted, the hype was a result of some things said by Terrell Owens and frankly, I'm not sure anyone outside of TO himself thought Randy Moss wasn't the better receiver so far in 2007. I don't think anything is different this morning, either. Terrell Owens still thinks he's the best, still thinks the Cowboys are the better team and everyone else knows that the exact opposite is true. Can we all agree that Owens is an ass? I could never be a fan of his, whether a Patriot, a Red Sox or my brother-in-law. Not possible. And believe me, I was probably as skeptical of Moss before he came to town but To is in a league of his own in terms of being a complete and utter jackass. From what came out of Romo's mouth after this game, it appears as if TO may be having an effect on him.

So mark those calendars now: November 4th. New England vs. Indy in a rematch of the 2007 AFC Championship game in Indy. I mean, this was the game that Pat fans were looking towards since last season, not the Dallas game. With any luck, both teams will still be unbeaten heading into the game and the hype will this time be around Manning and Brady, Harrison and Moss and Dungy and Belichick. Indy and New England...that's a classic matchup. Dallas and New England is simply another game...another win for the Pats.

MishMash (cont.)

6. If you're wearing an orange dress shirt...wait, let me start over. DO NOT wear an orange dress shirt to an interview. Seriously, I don't know what part of one's brain contributes to fashion sense but DEAR LORD, sometimes people are whacked out. The same applies to anything brightly colored...don't do it. You may think, hmm, this plum-colored poplin sure looks nice with this gold tie. Well, you're wrong buddy. Dead-fucking-wrong.

7. This one is more of a 'help French out' mishmash...any suggestions for me as I watch Game 1 of the ALCS on a plane? What's acceptable here? I probably won't be buying $5 Coors Lights, so there won't be any drunken commentary. However, is there a ceiling for me as far as yelling? Cursing? Cheering? Can I high-five other Sox fans on the flight?

8. My friend started at the company I work for today. I referred him and they hired him, so he's kind of my responsibility in the early going. You know, if he turns out to be a total disaster, then it's totally my bad because I vouched for him. I'm not too concerned about him but he does tug on the occasional cigarette. Smoking is kind of 'gauche' 'round these parts, so I hope he isn't cast out before he's accepted.

9. Gauche? Can I even say that?

10. I got nothing else. My head hurts.

MishMash

Lately I've been thinking that, more often than not, my brain is filled with a hodgepodge of stuff that makes no sense, or is just plain inane whimsy. As I've done in the past, I will share some of those recent internal ramblings with you now. Bon appetit.

1. If you could lay eggs, would you eat them? If you were to eat those eggs and one day, you laid a golden one, would you eat that one? Would you alert the local new stations?

2. Newspaper hawkers that give out a free publication in the subway stations need to understand something: due to the fact that the paper you are distributing is available on every fucking street corner in Boston, it's not really a huge convenience to have you handing them out as I leave the T station. Further, there is NO NEED for you to yell "free Metro". It's not even like you mutter it, or simply suggest taking one. You announce it, like it's this great thing and everyone should know about it. God forbid I just lose it one day and take it out on you. Just sayin.

3. Hey Michael Irvin, here's a news flash for you. Tony Romo is not that good. I've been saying this for a year now and no one has listened. He's maybe a little above avegare, tops. 5 INTs last night on the grand stage of MNF? Are you kidding? And these were pretty much all bad throws, bad decisions, bad bad bad. Something to ponder: how good would T.O. be if Tom Brady was throwing to him?

4. One thing you never want to spill in a gym bag: a huge container of instant oats. It gets into EVERYTHING. Also a bad thing to spill in a gym bag: vomit.

I think there will be a continuance for now...more tomorrow.

A Great Night

A warm, humid evening in October had the feel of an early July night, maybe just following the All-Star Break. An overcast, mildly threatening sky eventually gave way to black, the moon nowhere to be found. Perhaps it was tucked away behind some big cloud, saving any aerial majesty for Manny Ramirez and a potential mammoth home run that only Manny could deliver. No pitcher in his right mind is ever going to give David Ortiz that chance unless he has no other option.

A relatively boring game even by playoff standards, this one saw what has come to be a typical Dice-K start: flimsy control of his pitches, the tendency to fall behind in counts and on top of that, not getting the close calls from the umpire. But that's what happens when you display a lack of control. You don't get the close calls and therefore, you surrender walks and leave pitches a little fatter over the plate than you normally might. I actually thought that on this night, Tito pulled Dice-K's plug at exactly the right time. While he had sustained significant damage, in no way was this game out of reach when he left. He kept the offense in the game despite his suspect effort. He gave way to Javier Lopez who couldn't have displayed a more contrasting style to Matsuzaka. In one pitcher, you see an extremely deliberate and slowly mechanical delivery to the plate; his arm comes very much over the top. Lopez is quick from the stretch and his delivery is borderling submarine style. He's also a lefty, and in one pitch he got the Sox and Matsuzaka out of further trouble. And the Angels would never sniff the plate again as the Sox bullpen showed how they anchored the best pitching staff in baseball this year: No runs over 4.1 innings.

With the 'pen holding the Sox in the game, the stage had been set for some drama. It must be noted that the 17 year-old fan who snatched a foul ball away from Angels' catcher Jeff Mathis should be given a line on the stat sheet for allowing Mike Lowell the opportunity to hit the sac fly that tied the game. This kid is the anti Steve Bartman.

Let me set this Manny moment up for you a little bit. Early on in the contest, Manny misplayed a ball hit by Chone Figgins and his miscue lead to a run. Yes, he overran the ball and let it get to the wall. Figgins motored to second, a run scored and the fans went apeshit. A quote from the drunk guy behind me: "Manny, you SUUUUCK! Get him outta there, he's done! He can't do shit anymore, get him out!" Yes, great point you drunk fuck. He's done. Let me ask you, has Manny Ramirez EVER been accused of being a good fielder? No. Has he ever won a Gold Glove or come remotely close to one? No. Has he overrun balls countless times out there in left? Yes. Would you be willing to say that his bat more than cancels out his fielding woes? A thousand times over, YES. Amazingly, when Manny came up to bat in the ninth following the Ortiz IBB, that same guy was going berzerk for Manny...screaming his name, shouting accolades and showing his support for what seems to be his favorite player on the Sox. Typical.

We all know what happened when Manny stepped up to the plate to face "K-Rod". 96 mph fastball over the inner part of the plate...the perfect pitch for Manny to turn on and end the game. The anticipation in Fenway leading up to the dong was electric. You could feel the place just waiting to erupt...waiting to shower Manny with attaboys...waiting to sing "Dirty Water" and skip all the way home.

I watched Manny step into the offering from K-Rod and the crack of the bat was the sweetest sound I'd heard in a long time. I didn't have to wait to see the ball clear everything in left. I turned to La just in time to see her face...mouth agape, eyes wider than a 7 year-old at Christmas. I stepped over to her and lifted her off the ground in a celebratory bear hug. She then reached for her camera and got the celebration on video. I continued to lose my head, jumping up and down, screaming like a child and looking for anyone to high-five. The text messages were pouring in from the few people who knew I was there, most of their thoughts aligned with mine and those of the 37,607 fans in Fenway...MAAAAANNNNY! MAAAAAANNNY! And now, we await the result of a series that is gaining excitement in the Bronx. As our pitchers rest and prepare for the first long series of the 2007 postseason, I await hopefully for another Sox-Yanks ALCS. Come on, is there anything better?

Quo

The state of things as they are currently...the current state of affairs...the now, if you will:

As I continue my running regiment, I have added weight training into the mix. One thing is certain over the first week of lifting weights: I am weak. I can't lift much weight at all, and it's a tough haul to rig up those two ten-lb. weights on each side of the squat machine as the dude next to me lifts weight like it's going out of style. It's almost as if he thinks the weights might not be there tomorrow, so therefore he has to lift all of it just in case that should come true. And there I am, cautiously lifting minimal weight to "gain my form" as the trainer puts it. This is all well and good though, because I have come to grips with the fact that I need a lot of work on the old muscles. See me in six months.

I am noticing changes in my body, which good. I can't quite figure out the whole gas issue, but I guess that it's not a huge deal. I try to keep it to myself whenever possible but I was surprised to hear that even when I walk clear across the apartment to release, La can still hear me from three rooms away. She never says anything, so I always assumed I was in the clear. I guess I underestimate her hearing, either that or I underestimate the gusto behind my gas. I guess it's really not that often that I pass it without fervor.

It's now official that La and I will be in attendance on Friday night, to watch Dice-K for the 4th time this season. I think he'll be okay because the Angels haven't seen him this season. He's had some rest and assuming he can avoid that one, disastrous inning I think he'll pitch well. I can't say that I'm really relying on him to have a quality start, though. It's probably more likely that he goes 5 1/3, gives up 4 or 5 runs and keeps us in striking distance to come from behind. Of course, I'd much rather he shuts down their offense and leaves no doubt about the outcome when he exits. I want that every night, sure I do. But what would a world without high blood pressure and short fuses be like? Boring as shit.

I am slowly beginning to forget about the sideline camera debacle of a few weeks back. Yeah, it's probably always going to be there, somewhere in the back of my mind, waiting to be brought back into the forefront by some unadoring fan who wants to be an asshole. I don't like the inevitable talk of 16-0, the same talk that filled the ears of Colt fans for most of the season last year. The truth of the matter is, if the Patriots sit atop the AFC East after week 10, 11 or 12 with the division clinched, they are going to start resting players and playing them less and less every week. Does anyone on the Patriots or among their staff give a shit about going undefeated? No way in hell. This team was built to win the Superbowl and if they happen not to lose along the way, so be it. But nothing is given here. In 2001, the Rams were the Patriots of 2007. 'Greatest Show on Turf', everybody's feel good story of the year, Kurt Warner and Marshall, Marshall, Marshall. This team can be beat and chances are, it will be beat before too long. The game of the year for me is probably the game of the year for all Pat fans...our date with Manning and the Colts a little ways down the road. Man, how great would it be if on November 4th, both teams are undefeated when the first whistle blows in the RCA Dome? I can't wait for that game.

Well, let's all get ramped up for the first pitch at 6:30 tonight at the Fens. JB v. Lackey...it doesn't get much better than that for a playoff pitching matchup, does it?

GO SOX.