Monday, October 18, 2004
Tell me, please, please, please tell me that you all saw that game.
I ventured out to Tufts to watch the game with Jess and Steph and their friends. I actually managed to drive there without getting lost or careening off the road, which is a pretty big thing for me, but that DOES NOT MATTER. Steph and Jess's friends are amazingly fun to watch a Sox game with, but that also is of lesser importance.
Let us speak instead of the things which do matter, such as
What a mad, mad game to watch. I screamed a lot, every at bat, it seems. My throat is certainly sore enough now to bear that out. Apologies to Jess’s buddies, who were thus exposed to me in full madness mode. I snarled about Matsui endlessly, I moaned over Rivera, I extolled the hotness of Bill Mueller unto the heavens. When Jeter made a flying leap to get an out, I called him a ‘fucking gazelle’. When Cabby made a diving leap to come up with an out, I let loose with a volley of shrieks that may or may not have contained the words, “I love you, you psychotic little dancing machine!”
Derek Lowe. Derek Lowe. What can I say? The guy went into this game knowing we had to win, knowing that no one in the Sox organization had had enough faith in him to make him a playoff starter, knowing that he probably won’t be on the team next year no matter what happens. And he threw us a heck of a game. Like Pedro in Game 2, he wasn’t perfect, and he wasn’t spectacular, but he gave us 6 solid innings. He kept his head, and he threw his heart out. I stand and applaud for Derek Lowe. The dude did good.
And Leskanic somewhat redeemed himself after last night. Foulke went a lot longer than I thought he should have, throwing his usefulness in the next game (less than 24 hours away!) into doubt. Actually, what the heck do we do when Pedro tires in this Game 5? Do we have anyone left in our bullpen who can pitch? I mean, I’m pretty sure between tonight’s 12 inning killer and last night’s 4 hour extravaganza we’ve used everyone that there is to use, and we’ve used them heavily. I’m not sure we have anything left.
Anyways. I refuse to worry about it for at least a few more hours.
Happy game moments? The MFY hitting the ball out of the park, over the Green Monster. A fan on the street throws it back over the Monster, which is both extremely classy and, I would imagine, rather hard to do. That’s a pretty good throw you’d need to get the ball over. Johnny Damon, seeing that the ball is back on the field, throws it back over to the fans. The fans chuck it back onto the field again. How awesome is that? Very awesome, that’s how awesome it is. I love these fans. I love Boston.*
Derek Lowe getting a standing ovation as he came off the field.
Dave Roberts stealing second, even though the Yankees knew, beyond any tendril of doubt, that this was exactly what he had been brought into the game to do. They knew that he was going to try to steal second. And they still couldn’t do anything to stop him, or to stop him from subsequently scoring. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I love watching Dave Roberts run. Love it. Loveity love love love.
Doug Mientkiewicz finally getting some playing time this series. He’d been sitting on the bench all throughout these last 3 games, hanging his head on the fence, hands jammed into the kangaroo pocket of his sweatshirt, dejectedly watching the field with those puppy-dog eyes he has. You could tell the guy just wanted to play. About halfway through this game, when it became clear that, once again, Millar wasn’t contributing anything offensively and was, in fact, finding small ways to screw us defensively, I started calling for Mientkie to get in. Every inning that he was not in was another inning I spent howling, “Why is Millar still in there? He’s NOT DOING ANYTHING FOR US. Mientkie isn’t going to do any worse offensively, and he’s going to do a heck of a lot better defensively! Put him in! Put him in!” And then, you know, they did. Glee.
Mariano Rivera blowing a close. Need I say more? They had a shot of him sitting on the bench afterwards, when I think Gordon was in, and he looked like a partially melted waxworks.
Timlin, in the extra innings, standing in his jacket on the dugout steps, waving his arms to pump up the crowd and screaming his lungs out for his teammates. I never really saw Timlin as one of the huge team-spirit guys, but man did it do me good to see him acting like that. Thanks, Timmy.
Realizing halfway through the game that C-3POlerud wasn’t in the game. I don’t know why none of us noticed it before, but Tony Clark sort of blended in with the rest of the lineup and it took us a bit to pick up on the fact that the Helmeted Wonder wasn’t playing. When we did, it was like a happy chocolatey surprise in a great big vanilla sunday.
Coming out of Jess’s dorm to walk back to my car, passing a small quad with a small crowd gathered in it. The crowd was chanting ‘Yankees suck! Yankees suck!’ It was truly a beautiful thing. See, nice as the sort-of Red Sox fans have been at Michigan, that kind of spirited gathering just wouldn’t happen. Can you see a huge crowd of Boston fans spilling out onto the Diag and starting a Yankees Suck chant? I can’t. It’s a pity, too, because, as I said, this was truly a beautiful thing. Made more lovely by the fact that it was, at this point, somewhere around 1:15 am and everyone was a little insane. Ah yes. *wipes tear of joy from eye*
I guess I should go to bed before I pass out onto my keyboard from exhaustion. I think I’ve mostly run through the adrenaline I had coming out of this game, and I’m starting to get tired enough that I can’t think of anything specific about the game. Ortiz, I love you. Mueller, I love you. Boston Red Sox, I love you. Thank you for not letting this be a sweep.
Pedro? Tomorrow... please. Just... please. We have little or no bullpen to back you up if you falter early. You're on your own turf, among your own people. Please, please, please throw us a gem. And maybe give our offense an extra little pinch in the bum to get them going on such short rest.
To close, we have some remarks made by Beth in reference to Johnny Damon and the man-tastic wonder that is Gabe Kapler. Screen names changed to protect the rabid fans.
mochachino (2:26:10 AM): dude johnny damon tho....
mochachino (2:26:17 AM): i feel like animal attraction to him
mochachino (2:26:23 AM): id jump him without a thought
mochachino (2:18:30 AM): OMG
mochachino (2:18:31 AM): for sure the hottest jew ever
TheFeline (2:18:37 AM): in the HISTORY OF EVER
TheFeline (2:18:41 AM): no doubt in my mind.
mochachino (2:19:52 AM): oh baby
mochachino (2:19:59 AM): id like to make some sweet music with that boy
TheFeline (2:20:19 AM): understatement of the year
TheFeline (2:20:35 AM): i'd like to make a whole freaking orchestrated opera with that fellow
mochachino (2:20:52 AM): hell yes!
mochachino (2:20:59 AM): something with a chorus, orchestra and bad
mochachino (2:21:00 AM): band
mochachino (2:21:06 AM): and possible interpretative dancers
TheFeline (2:21:19 AM): yes. maybe even someone playing the triangle over in the corner.
mochachino (2:22:27 AM): oooh
mochachino (2:22:29 AM): and the tambourine
*For those who don’t follow baseball much, for a fan to give up the souvenir of a caught ball and chuck it back onto the field, in a gesture of rejection that the opposing team ever managed to hit it out of the park, is extremely classy and should warm the hearts of baseball fans everywhere.