2004 ALCS Thoughts - Game 5
That’s it. It’s official. The Red Sox have driven me insane. Or, to quote Pink Floyd, I have become comfortably numb.
Nothing could happen over the next three weeks that could wake me from this trance-like state I’ve been in since mid-way through Game 3. I need to call the people I hung out with that night to ask them if I fell down and hit my head – it kinda feels like I’ve got a concussion. I don’t even know how to explain this. I just walk around my house and my office in a daze, talking to people about random things, for no apparent reason. Cutting conversations off at the strangest times. I’ve totally lost it.
After the 14th inning of last night’s ALCS Game 5, I couldn’t stop giggling. Seriously. I lay in my bed, exhausted, giggling like a six year old kid who just ripped off a “SBD” in his classroom and is waiting for the rest of the kids to get the good news. I stared blankly at the post-game commentary on NESN, flipping only momentarily in time to catch the last two innings of the Astros/Cardinals NLCS Game 5 (Such an unbelievable series by the way. If it weren’t for Sox/Yanks, this would be an insta-classic NLCS…). Can anyone else comprehend that the Astros game, which started THREE HOURS AFTER the Red Sox, ended not even FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER?!?!
When I got to work this morning, I actually sent out the following e-mail:
The Red Sox have officially driven me insane. I'm just giving you all fair warning, that if this series goes to seven games, regardless of the outcome, I'll probably lose it completely and be forced to spend the next three days recuperating at a spa or something, just to calm my nerves. Depending on the outcome, when I do come in to work the next day, I'll either be very happy, or I’ll tackle and pummel the first person to say the wrong thing to me. I could go either way here.
I’m thinking the last statement might end up getting me fired, or at least thrown in prison for a very long time as pre-meditation. Of course, so could that sentence.
This is how desperate I’ve become. I’m actually torn between hoping for a rain-out just so I can get some sleep, and hoping that the game is played tonight, just because the Yankees’ bullpen would be totally useless. I can’t imagine any scenario under which Joe Torre would trot out Mariano Rivera and/or Tom Gordon if Game 6 actually gets played tonight. None whatsoever. Hell, I think even Tanyon Sturtze, Paul Quantrill and Felix Heredia are off-limits (although I think Heredia has been more or less off-limits for a month now).
I can’t believe I’m allowing the ‘Olde Town Team to suck me back in again. I can only equate this in devastation to being waaaaay ahead in a hand of poker (like flopping a full house to someone with a pocket pair who tries to buy a pot by moving all-in), only to lose on the river by two runners (say, to make four of a kind) and still get dealt wired Aces the next hand. There’s nothing you can do but keep playing, even though you know you should walk away and get out while you’ve still got something left to offer.
That’s what’s going on right now. I can’t get away from this team, and although I would never wish that they would lose, I don’t know if I could handle it, emotionally, if they took this to seven and then coughed it up. Or, worse, made it to the Series only to give it up then. It’s all or nothing right now.
That being said, there’s no pressure on these guys right now. They’ve given every Red Sox fan more than could have ever been expected after the Game 3 debacle. All the pressure in the world now falls squarely on the Yankees and the right arm of Jon Lieber. Remember, Lieber had never pitched in the postseason before this year, and although he’s looked great so far, he hasn’t had to pith with the weight of the Steinbrenner-fearing world (or at least the weight of David Ortiz) on his back.
Curt Schilling, on the other hand – he’s been here before. Maybe not in this physical condition, but I would not be surprised to see him put up a line of something like: 6IP, 5H, 2R, 2ER, 1BB, 8K. Hell, if that was what he put up, I’d take it and say thank you, and oh by the way, you’re our #1 next year, Pedro be damned.
And that brings me to Petey. Pedro’s last start of this ALCS, and possibly ever in a Sox’ uniform, was masterful. At least until pitch number… (yep, you guessed it) …100. How he could have ever drilled Miguel Cairo to bring Jeter up, I don’t know. There’s no reason to even pitch Cairo inside in that situation – it’s not like he’s a fearsome hitter in the clutch. Derek Jeter is. There was no doubt in my mind that Jeter would come through (and go to right field, by the way) in the clutch last night and push the Sox to the edge. What was worse, (although it worked out OK in the end) was Terry Francona’s decision to let Pedro stay in against Matsui in that same inning. Apparently, Tito had his head in the sand during last year’s ALCS, because that was certainly a Grady-like miscue that, had it not resulted in a very hard hit line-out to right field, probably costs Tito his job after the season. Or at least gives the Sox’ brass some serious pause.
I don’t know. I’ve got nothing left here. I don’t think I can be of much use to society at this point, what with my brain being a squishy pile of goop just floating along inside my skull right now. I’m pretty sure that the Red Sox are going to give me a stroke at some point in my life, and I’d really like to know ahead of time so I can make the proper plans.
After all, who should get my collection of Phil Plantier rookie cards after I pass…?
posted by Big D @ 12:00 AM
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