Stephen King - Faithful

The Angels, currently five back in the wild-card race, are now the only other contender for that ticket to the postseason dance. [52] That could change if Oakland loses its hold on first place in Outer Weird Pacifica, but even if the A’s do drop to second, our position vis-à-vis the wild card won’t change much. For the record, I think Oakland will hold on and win the West. They have nineteen games left, two against the so-so ChiSox, seven against the shlubby Seattle Mariners, and ten against good teams, including six against Oakland. We, on the other hand, have six games left against the Yankees, and eight against Baltimore, who has played us tough all year. The moral of this story is simple—we gotta jus’ keep goin’, man.

SK:We kicked their ass, all right…another granny for Manny, and it was one inning after I went to bed. As for Being There, Owen has talked me into going down to at least one game and then driving back afterward. Meantime, another day off the schedule, another day closer to the Yankees.

SO:If you’re going to catch just one game, make it Thursday’s, Curt’s first crack at 20 wins.

Arroyo threw well against the Mariners in his other start against them and got screwed out of a W when the pen fell apart. Tonight he’s wearing some of the ugliest dirty-blond white-boy cornrows I’ve ever seen, but he pitches beautifully, that hard curve of his dropping off the outside corner, making hitters lunge. Manny homers again, and Mark Bellhorn. Kevin Youkilis starts at third to give Bill Mueller a breather, and by the late innings Pokey Reese, David McCarty and Ricky Gutierrez all get some playing time.

In the ninth we’re up 7–0 when Adam Hyzdu sees his first at-bat as a Red Sock. He looks anxious—and awful, chasing pitches away. He’s down 1-2, and I think how much that would suck, striking out in your one at-bat all year. Hyzdu lines a double to the wall in left, knocking in a run. So he’s batting a thousand and slugging two.

When the Sox have to declare their playoff roster (knock wood), some of these guys aren’t going to be on it. We keep having to make room on the expanded roster for people coming off the DL—like Scott Williamson last night—and with all the guys we added in midseason, I wonder if guys like McCarty and Pokey won’t be going to the party. And can we keep Dave Roberts, Trot and Kapler as backups? Someone’s going to be left out the way Dauber and Cesar Crespo have already been left behind.

SO:Did I tell you my theory that Napoleon Dynamite is about the Sox pitching staff? Eck is Uncle Rico, wanting to time-travel back to 1982, while Napoleon is the lost and tragickal Derek Lowe.

SK:Who is the nerdy older brother? Bronson Arroyo would be my guess. “Peace out, Napoleon.” Cornrows, indeed.

SO:I was actually thinking of Wake for the brother, but you’re right, Arroyo’s cornrows might win him the role (who did ’em—Manny? Pokey?). And I did see a VOTE FOR PEDRO T-shirt at the park the other day.

Speaking of voting: Mr. Schill should have the inside track on the Cy Young, and Manny sure as heck looks like the MVP.

My “too quiet” prediction comes true, as righty Gil Meche scatters five Red Sox hits for a complete-game 2–0 shutout. Manny sabotages our best scoring chance in the first: with one out and two on, he forgets how many outs there are and gets doubled up off second on what should be an easy sac fly. Derek Lowe’s only mistake is a two-run shot to Raul Ibanez. Time of game: two hours, twenty-two minutes.

SK:What can you say? Guy pitched a great game and Manny ran us out of an inning. Oh, that crazy Manny. At least it’ll take more than this one game to cost us our dream. But 3.5 back of the Yankees. And how’s by the Angels? “White Hot Colon” (as per the Angels website) over Chicago, 11–0. Back to five up in the WC. And do you know what? I think the D-Rays might put a hurtin’ on us.

SO:D-Lowe deserved better (and be sure the GM of the O’s has taken note of his last seven starts). So we’re where we were on Friday, just two games closer to the finish line. With Petey and Mr. Schill slated to go against the D-Rays, I’m optimistic. Just gotta hit.

I wonder how much Manny’s little fugue states will hurt his MVP chances. What a weird series he had. He clouts a bunch of big dingers, including that granny, makes a great flying karate-kick, give-up-the-body grab in the corner, then muffs that can of corn on the track, and today he forgets how many outs there are. It’s like Sun Ra said: space is the place.

Somewhere I’m missing a game—our record says we have 20 left but I only count 19 on the sked. Must be a rain date in there somewhere. Ah, found it: we’ve got a doubleheader in Baltimore on the next-to-last day of the season. So that means of the 20 games we have left, 8 are with the pain-in-the-ass O’s. And 6 are with the Yanks. So we had better beat the D-Rays.

SK:I doan like the sound of tha’, man. Too easy to see the headline: ANGELS IN AS WILD CARD, TEJADA SINKS SOX.

You think? Say “Nahhh…”

SO:Nahhh. They’ll be meaningless. Our starters will be Abe Alvarez and Frank Castillo. Or whoever needs the innings for his bonus. But you’re right, Tejada will hit four homers. (Talk about some fans who should (continue to) be pissed—the new and improved O’s didn’t even make .500.)

Plus I’m looking for the Angels to knock off the A’s. Be nice to see a team with real fundamentals overcome their injuries and eliminate the Moneyball guys.

In the mail, a gift from Steve: The Year of the Gerbil , by Con Chapman, a chronicle of the 1978 pennant race. The Gerbil, of course, was just part of Bill “Spaceman” Lee’s nickname for then Sox manager Don Zimmer. The whole name was The Mad Gerbil. On the cover is a shot from the TV feed from the one-game playoff, the center-field camera keying on Bucky Dent just after his fateful swing, Mike Torrez starting to follow the ball up and to his right. Torrez, I’m surprised to see, is wearing Roger Clemens’s #21. Another good reason to retire it.

SO:Thanks, man. The title alone had me laughing (though you know by the end I’ll be grim-lipped, bumming once again at Mike F****** Torrez and Bucky F****** Dent). And this year sure looks like a photo negative of ’78. We just have to catch the Yanks at the wire and let Mark Bellhorn do the rest.

SK:I saw the cover of this week’s Sports Illustrated and my heart sank into my boots. If you don’t know why—and I’m sure you do—Google Sports Illustrated Curse.

SO:I believe Tommy Brady and the Pats survived it, so maybe Mr. Schill can too. At least it’s not the Chunky Soup curse; that’s a career-ender (Terrell Davis, Kurt Warner). Keep your eye on Donovan McNabb!

If we gather all these curses ( Titanic , Bambino, SI ) and STILL win, will folks shut up about them already? And will we get extra points for degree of difficulty (like overcoming all our injuries)?

The Yankees got roughed up again last night, roughed up bad, this time by lowly Kansas City. The final score of that game was 17–8, and this morning the New York sportswriters will once more be eating their gizzards out about the pinstripes’ lack of pitching—lovely. The Red Sox, meanwhile, only split with cellar-dwelling Seattle, which is a long way from wonderful, but the road trip is over, four more games are off the schedule, and we’re coming back to Fenway Park almost exactly where we were in the standings when we left: three games behind the Yankees in the East, four and a half ahead of the Angels in the wild card. Furthermore, we’re looking at three with the hapless Devil Rays, and the Sox have been strong against them this year. So, at least until we meet the Yankees on the seventeenth, all’s okay with the world, right?