The Aftermath

I'm not much of a Bill Simmons guy but his oeuvre today on ESPN.com is a must read.

As for me, I sat in front of the TV with a computer on the blink, unable to blog or do anything else to take my mind off the train wreck happening in front of me.

Then Pedroia singled home the first run and Papi came to the plate. I texted my esteemed colleagues these words: "Watch the Sox go and score 6."

Call me bitter at Manny Delcarmen for turning into Manny Delcarmen at a most inopportune spot. And call me mad at Papelbon for allowing the two guys Delcarmen walked to score by throwing B.J. Upton A BELT-HIGH FREAKING FASTBALL OUT OVER THE PLATE ON 3-2 WITH FIRST BASE OPEN!!!!! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HOW DUMB CAN YOU BE????!!!!!!! HASN'T UPTON RECORDED AN AGGREGATE 16 LIGHT YEARS WITH HIS BLASTS IN THIS SERIES???!!!!!

So I felt very little joy or emotion as the Sox clawed back. Papi homered. 7-4. "How do you figure these guys?" I thought. Just when you think you're out, they pull you back in. Drew homered. 7-6. Kotsay hits a ball to left-center that Upton doesn't catch. Hell freezes over. Pigs fly. Women mistake me for Brad Pitt. Crazy game. Coco fouls off everything in sight and singles Kotsay home. 7-7.

Can you believe this?

By now I was in emotional limbo. I've seen enough of these games to know the Sox would win. The team that rallies back ALWAYS wins games like that. But I was still too hacked off at the Red Sox for 24 innings of comatose Fenway baseball to warm up to them. Forget cuddling at this point. I needed the big, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss of a finish.

Then Drew doubled home Youk for the game winner and I must have woken the neighbors with my screaming. And, mind you, we have one-acre lots here in Twinsville. My neighbors are a good sand wedge away. Maybe even a 52-degree gap wedge. Hell, some days the way I hit it it's a strong 3-iron. I threw the throw pillow I'd been clutching (that's why they're called throw pillows, right?) and screamed I DON'T BELIEVE THEY DID THAT!! My wife ran downstairs, not knowing if they'd won, they'd lost, or I'd suffered a traumatic brain injury. I think two out of those three apply.

Can someone explain to me, at half past midnight, how one is supposed to sleep after that?

-- MJM

P.S. Wearers of Dodger Blue, I introduce you to the real Manuel Aristides Ramirez. Have fun, gang. Wouldn't want to be in your shoes: http://www.latimes.com/sports/la-sp-manny17-2008oct17,0,7358236.story