Thanks to My Captain, I'm blogging the top of the ninth
Been a long night; I'm going nickname game on you.
"Captain" Tek leads off with a bomb.
"Much maligned" Millar singles. Adam "I'm NOT Dave Roberts" Stern pinch runs
Johnny "Get your bat and glove" Olerud singles.
Bill "I Heart RiSP" Mueller doubles and advances on the throw. Stern scores. For some reason, Sveum sends the slowest man in the American League to try and score from first.
Nancy Kerrigan asks: Why? Whyyyyyyyy? Dale? Daaaaaaaaaaale? It could've been 2nd and 3rd, one out, with suckty Baez on the mound. (in case you were wondering, that thud you heard was Danys' trade value and Chuck LaMar's phone hitting the ground, simultaneously).
Not to be. But regardless, it's tied. The Sox live to play another half-inning. Schill comes in, hopefully with a chip on his shoulder and Clement on his mind.
Damn, Schill tripped a little bit on the mound and hasn't looked very comfortable, despite retiring the first two batters. Had a nasty tailing fastball for strike two to Julio Lugo, but made the next one fat and he singled it into center.
Jorge Cantu Modeling School at the dish. An extra-base hit could score Lugo and send the Sox home with an L.
The pitch from Schilling...Swing and a drive...deep to center...Damon at the track...at the wall...looking up...he leaps...and MAKES THE CATCH! WHAT A CATCH BY DAMON AND THE SOX GO TO THE 10TH!
(that's what it would sound like if I were still doing baseball play-by-play on the radio)
Same kind of play last night, except Damon doesn't look like a pregnant yak trying to chase a flyball. Huge play. Gigantic play. Play of the year.
One of those urban legends in baseball says that the guy who makes a great play in the field usually leads off and makes a big hit at the plate.
No sooner to I start to type that sentence, and the ball deposits itself in right field off the bat of...Johnny effing Damon. 9-8.
Edgar tries to atone for his then-game losing error with a single. Papi up next and F7's it. Manny up next.
Been a weird game for Manuel. Homers in his first AB. Singles in the next. K's ugly the next three. In the 10th, he grounds into a 6-4-3 double play...except that Lugo didn't tag 2nd and didn't throw it too good to the 1B. Everyone's safe. And all this on a day where another "Manny wants out of Boston" story surfaces.
You know, in an earlier email to DScott, I mentioned how the Boston press would probably capitalize on the misery of the game earlier. Losing Trot to injury. The horrific play involving Matt Clement. An error by Renteria (even though they didn't call it an error, I do). If people are looking for a "turning point" game, they have it. Except, it's bad.
Not anymore. Flip that script. This is a turning point game. And it's good. I don't care if it's against the Devil Rays. This team saw ghosts from innings 3-8 and I can't say I blame them. But they regrouped, rallied, and have staged a dramatic comeback in the late innings against a closer that - again, I don't care if he's a Devil Ray - hasn't blown a save since early June.
Captain Tek singled in Renteria for a little Geico...a little State Farm...10-8.
Stern and Olerud retired to end the top of the 10th, onto the closer. And as Lance Armstrong's son would tell him before the mountain stages in this year's Tour: "Make 'em suffer."
Fredo reports that Trot has a strained oblique. That's not good. Paging Gabe Kapler.
No other reports on Clement, but by all accounts, it sounds encouraging that no major injuries were sustained.
Schill works the 10th and, with a few speedbumps, gets through it.
Hollins singles, takes second on defensive indifference before Travis Lee doubles a tough, tough pitch away down the left field line, making it 10-9.
A four-pitch walk to Alex Gonzalez yields Joey Gathright - not a power threat. And an extra-base hit would most likely not score the winning run.
First pitch, pop up, left field side. Manny, Mueller, and Edgar converge. None come through.
But Gathright grounds to John Olerud, whose only play was a force at second. Game over, Red Sox win.
I have a basement apartment and my landlords, who are elderly and hard of hearing, live above me.
Right now, whether they like it or not, whether they can hear it or not, I have Dirty Water on 8.
I love that Dirty Water. (one)