Josh Q. Public:I’m unbeatable like Rocky Marciano. Hit ya right bellow the belt, now your singing soprono. Talk what ya talk, still you don’t know what I know. -House of Pain
Public Service Announcement: Ok, here we go! Oh boy! How ’bout them juggernaut Red Sox? Them sluggernaut Red Sox. Them punch you in the muggernaut Red Sox. The best team in baseball just keeps getting better. She dreams in color, she dreams in red, can’t find a better man. Two grannies. Yea, you know I’m getting silly. I’ve got a Grandma Hazel and a Grandma Tilly. JD Drew’s got a Grandma Hazel. Mike Lowell’s got a Grandma Tilly. Drew’s salami was an opposite field bomb into the Monster seats in the second to put the Sox up 4-1. Lowell’s was just piling on. Going that extra miling on. Making it all worthwhiling on. Piling it on en route to a four game sweep of the Royals. Piling it on en route to a perfect seven-game homestand. Piling it on en route to win ten straight home games. Piling it on en route to the best record in baseball. Wooo doggie! And what a way to get there. Daisuke Matsuzakaimproved his record to 8-0 to become the first Japanese born pitcher to win nine consecutive regular-season big-league decisions on this side of the Pacific. Jon Lester staves off cancer to throw a no-no Nanette. Rookie Justin Masterson gets called up from the farm to pitch a gem in his first ever start. Big bad Bartolo Colon, the former Cy Young winner, picks up his first win in a Red Sox uniform. Don’t get any better than that. Everything’s coming up roses. You’ll be swell! You’ll be great! Gonna have the whole world on the plate! Sarting here, starting now. Honey, everything’s coming up roses! Yes they are. The Sox are the hottest team in baseball. You know it. I know it. Casey Stengel knows it. Good pitching will always stop good hitting and vice-versa. The Red Sox are hitting. They have averaged seven runs per game during this current streak. The Red Sox are pitching. Despite a lackluster performance last night from the bullpen, the pitching has allowed a meager four runs per game during this current streak. This team is destined for greatness. This thing is theirs to lose. Sean Casey: “This is probably the best team I’ve ever played on.” That means better than the 2006 World Series Tigers. That means better than 1997’s World Series Indians. Now, the greatest team Sean Casey has ever played on, hits the road. Now, the defending world champion Red Sox, with baseball’s best record, hits the road to begin a ten-game road trip. Say, here I am, on the road again. There I am, up on the stage. Here I go, playing star again. There I go, turn the page. Roll Sox roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Stan Lee, Pearl Jam, Beastie Boys, Jed Clampett, Gypsie and Bob Seger
Josh Q. Public:Everyday the sun’ll shine. Took this dream and made it mine. I’m gettin’ down one thing that I know. We’re untouchable. -DMX
Public Service Announcement: Ok, here we go! Wooo doggie! Archie Moonlight Graham once asked, “Is there enough magic out there in the moonlight to make this dream come true?” Jon Lester will tell you the answer is yes. Undoubtedly, yes. Assuredly, yes. Positively, yes. Jon Lester. The very bester. The pound your chester. The bulletproof vester. Jon Lester was bulletproof last night, boyyyyyyy. Lester was ahead in the count on twenty of the twenty-nine batters he faced. Lester struck out nine batters. Lester walked just two batters. Batter, batter, batter, swiiiiing batter. Lester threw his first career complete game. And yes, Lester threw a no-hitter. Doesn’t get much better than that. Well, pitching the clinching game of a World Series is pretty good too. And oh ya, beating cancer, that’s not too bad either. What a story, what a story. You thought the Rich Ankiel story was good. You thought the Josh Hamilton story was good. You were right. This one’s better. You know it by now. Bellarmine Preparatory School. Tacoma, Washington. Phenom. Phenomenal. GatoradeState Player of the Year. Minor Leagues. Portland Sea Dogs. League-leading 2.61 ERA. League-best 163 strikeouts. Eastern League Pitcher of the Year. Red SoxMinor League Pitcher of the Year. Year-end Topps AA All-Star squad. On top of the world looking down on creation. Best young pitcher in the nation. More fun than 101 Dalmatians. Out of this world like the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The rookie lefty made his Major League debut in June ‘06. The rookie lefty went 7-2. The rookie lefty threw sixty Ks in eighty innings. The rookie lefty contracted the cancer. Ain’t that a shame? My tears fell like rain. On August 27th, 2006 Lester was scratched from his scheduled start due to a sore back. The following day he was placed on the 15 day disabled list. Three days later, it was reported that Lester had been diagnosed with a treatable form of anaplastic large cell lymphoma. There it was. There was a kind of hush all over the world. A deafening hush. Made my insides turn to mush. Another dream crushed. But this kid’s a fighter. He fights. He fought off the cancer. And just like The Terminator, who just like Jack Torrance, is baaaack! On March 5, Lester made his first appearance in a 2007 spring training game. He threw 8 pitches and retired the first three batters he faced. Good news. Real good news. He hasn’t looked back since. And now this. And now Lester is the first pitcher to win the clinching game of a World Series in one season and throw a no-hitter the next year since Sandy Koufax. Yowza! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good feeeelllllooooww! Which nobody can deny! Curt Schilling can’t deny it: “This isn’t even about baseball. It just doesn’t get any better the way a guy like that comes back to us.” No it doesn’t Curt, no it doesn’t.
Public Acknowledgements: Field of dreams, Cameron Frye, The Carpenters, Arnold and The Shining
Josh Q. Public: And I’m a bad boy ’cause I don’t even miss her. I’m a bad boy, for breakin’ her heart. And I’m free, free fallin’. Yeah I’m free, free fallin’. -Tom Petty
Public Service Announcement: Ok, here we go! What’s crack-a-lacking sports fans? What? Oh. You thought I forgot. Thought I forgot about the Yankees. Ha ha ha! Think again. Last place. This is rich. Rich I tell you! Sing it with me ####es. Follow the bouncing ball. Na, na… na, na, na, na… hey, hey, hey… goodbye. Ha ha ha ha! Goodbye Yankees. I know it. You know it. The ghost of George Herman Ruth knows it. The New York Yankees are all done. I guess it’s over, call it a day. Sorry that it had to end this way. No I’m not. I’m not sorry. Last night the Yankees fell. Last night, the Yankees fell to last place. Last night, the Yankee fell to last place in the American League Beast. Last place behind theRays. Last place behind the Red Sox. Last place behind the Orioles. Last place behind the Blue Jays. The first time that the Yankees have resided in sole possession of last place this many games in since 1995. Ha ha ha! Poor old George Steinbrenner must be rolling around in his grave right about now. Can you blame him? The Yankees are atrocious. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious! If you say it loud enough, you’ll always sound precocious. I don’t care. I don’t care if I sound precocious. It’s true. Like my main Casey Stengel always says, “Good pitching will always stop good hitting and vice-versa.” Well, Yankees pitchers aren’t pitching and Yankees hitters aren’t hitting. You do the math. We all know about the pitching woes. The well documented pitching woes. We all know about Phil Hughes. On the DL. We all know about Ian Kennedy. Akinori Iwamura’s bomb on Kennedy’s fourth pitch of the game last night put the Rays ahead for good. We all know about Kei Igawa. Back down on the farm. We all know about them. It’s the hitting, or lack there of. It’s the lack of hitting that’s sinking this Yankees ship. It’s the lack of hitting that has these Yankees in such trouble. Big trouble. Big trouble in little China. Adventure doesn’t come any bigger! Against Tampa Bay’s four starting pitchers, the Yankees scored two runs in 27 1/3 innings. On this 2-4 road trip, they hit .214 with runners in scoring position. 9-for-42 with zero home runs and a paltry three extra-base hits. Ha ha ha! Where’s A-Broad when you need him? Where’s hip hip Jor-ge? There’s no need to fear. Captain Caveman is here. Leadoff hitter Captain Caveman was 1-for-18 in the Tampa Bay series. That’s no way to start your day. Maybe putting on gold lame underwear is. Jason Giambi is hitting .181. Jason Giambi is in a funk. You know what that means. Whenever he is in a prolonged hitting funk, he wears a gold lamé, tiger-stripe thong under his uniform. “I only put it on when I’m desperate to get out of a big slump.” Ha ha ha! It doesn’t get more desperate than this. It doesn’t get more desperate than last place. All I can say is, Let’s Go Mets! Tonight’s the night we’re gonna make it happen. Tonight we’ll put all other things aside. Keep stepping on those Yankees necks. Put them out of their misery. No division. No Wild Card. No nothing. Take your shoes off. Put your feet up. Sit back, relax, and be a Sox watcher. Roll Sox, roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Gary DeCarlo, Johnny Mathis, Mary Poppins, Jack Burton and the Pointer Sisters
Josh Q. Public:Well I’ve been thinking ’bout all the places we’ve surfed and danced and all the places we’ve missed, so let’s get back together and do it again. -Beach Boys
Public Service Announcement: Ok, here we go! The greatest right handed hitter to ever don a Red Sox uniform has done did it again. The greatest right handed hitter in the history of baseball has done did it again. Manny Ramirez has done did it again. Manny Ramirez’s two-run bomb off the Bayonne Bleeder, Joe Borowski, in the top of the ninth was the winner winner chicken dinner. The ninth winner winner chicken dinner in Manny’s career. The third winner winner chicken dinner as a Red Sox. And when I say winner winner chicken dinner, you know what I’m talking about boyyyyyy. I’m talking about a go-ahead homer in the ninth inning or later. No such thing as clutch. Bill James can eat my shorts. I’m more of a Siwoffian statistician anyway. Big Papi ain’t right. That much is clear. Manny is right. Right as rain. Well, that’s all right, mama. That’s all right for you. That’s all right mama, just anyway you do. Manny did in the top of the ninth. Two outs. One on. All tied up. Manny saunters up. You knew it. I knew it. Bill James knew it. Gone! Connectamundo. Power pose. Why pitch to this cat? Eck tried it. Wow! Joe Girardi tried it over the week-end. See what happens? Manny makes you pay. That’s what happens. That’s the way it is with a wiseguy partner. He gets his money no matter what. You got no business? #### you, pay me. You had a fire? #### you, pay me. The place got hit by lightning and World War Three started in the lounge? #### you, pay me. Hold it now, hold it now, hit it. Manny is the greatest hitter in baseball today. He hits with power. He hits to the opposite field. He hits with two strikes. He hits and he hits and he hits. Roll Sox roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Chuck Wepner, Jeff Gordon, Beastie Boys, Elvis and Goodfellas
Josh Q. Public:Do that to me one more time. Once is never enough with a man like you. Do that to me one more time. I can never get enough of a man like you. -Captain & Tennille
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! Like my main man Roy Hobbs always says: ”God, I love baseball.” Me too Roy, me too. I love my Red Sox, and I love Big Papi. The most feared hitter in all of baseball. The most cheered hitter in all of baseball. The most endeared hitter in all of baseball. Finally! Finally, it has happened to me. Right in front of my face, my feelin’s can’t describe it. Finally it has happened to me. Right in front of my face and I just cannot hide it. Finally, David Ortiz has broken out. Finally, David Ortiz has spoken out. Finally, David Ortiz has found his stroken out. David Ortiz didn’t hit a home run during Spring Training. Oh for eleven in his first three games of the regular season. Struck out in his first at bat in his fourth game last night. Enough is enough. Second at bat. Single. Next at bat. Going, going, gone! How about that? Now it’s baseball season. Big Papi wins another one. Now the game is on. The clutchest of the clutch once again proved that he is too much. The man with the golden touch. Bill James may disagree. Bill James may tell you there’s no such thing as clutch. Bill James can go to Hell. I saw Senor Octubre go yard off of Jared Washburn in the 10th inning of Game Three of the 2004 ALDS. Ohhhh Doctor! I saw Senor Octubre go yard in the twelfth inning off of Paul Quantrill in Game Four of the 2004 ALCS. Whoa Nelly! I saw Senor Octubre smash a fourteenth-inning single to center field driving in the Caveman from second base in Game Five of the 2004 ALCS. Holy Cow! I saw all of those things. I saw all of those things and I saw a whole lot more. Who’s your Papi? No such thing as clutch? Whatta maroon! Whatta ignoramus! Last season, Papi’s power numbers dipped. But, Big Papi is healthy again. His ####ed up knee has been surgically repaired. His sore shoulder has had a winter of rest. Geronimo, look out below! Last night was only the beginning. Only just the start. The greatest clutch hitter in baseball history done did it again! So bring on the Yankees. Bring on anybody. Bring on everybody. We got Papi and ain’t nobody does me better. Makes me happy, makes me feel this way.
Public Acknowledgements: The Natural, Ce Ce Pennison, Mel Allen, Jerry Coleman, Keith Jackson, Phil Rizzuto, Bugs Bunny and Chaka Khan
Josh Q. Public: One more time. We’re gonna celebrate. Oh yeah, alright. Don’t stop the dancin’. One more time. -Daft Punk
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! First place baby! First place. First place thanks to Mr. Manny Ramirez. While you were sleeping, I was watching baseball. While you were sleeping, I was watching Boston Red Sox baseball. While you were sleeping, I was watching Manny Ramirez hit a two-run double in the top of the 10th inning to rally the Boston Red Sox over the Oakland Athletics. Woo doggy! What a way to the start the day. What a way to the start the season. Manny ####ed in four runs. Manny ####ed a two-out, two-strike pitch off the center field wall at the Tokyo Dome. Manny ####ed in Julio Lugo and Big Papi with the go-ahead runs. Ballgame! Make no mistake about it. This the Year of the Ram. The Man-Ram. Manny picked up where he left off in the post-season. Manny picked up where he left off in last year’s championship post-season. Last year’s championship post season where Manny tore it up. Hardcored it up. Katy bar the doored it up. Katy bar the doored it up with four bombs. Katy bar the doored it up with sixteen baseknocks. Sure last season wasn’t his best. Sure last season was the first season he didn’t receive any MVP votes. Sure last season his .493 slugging percentage was an all time low. This year will be different. He’s worked harder than ever in the off-season. And that’s saying something. That’s saying a lot. He’s spent two months working out in Arizona. He’s abandoned the split grip in his batting stance. He’s no longer resting his bat on his shoulder as the pitcher heads into his windup. Manny finished spring training at .300. He’s started the regular season with a ####. Expect more from Manny. Expect more from the greatest Red Sox of all time. Heresy you say? Blasphemy? Apostasy? I say, free your mind and the rest will follow. Be colorblind, don’t be so shallow. I’ve heard the criticisms. You lollygag the ball around the outfield. You lollygag your way down to first. You lollygag in and out of the dugout. You know what that makes you? A lollygagger! People take offense to his posing after titanic moon shots. People can shut the hell up. All I know is, for the second time in four years, the Sox snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. Snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and played themselves into the World Series. Played themselves into the World Series thanks, in large part, to Mr. Ramirez. Took all the breath out of the Cleveland Indians. You’re every song I sing. You’re the music that I play. And you take my breath away. And that’s just it. Manny is the music the Red Sox play. So say what you will about Manny. Whatever gives you a thrill about Manny. Sing like the Barber of Seville about Manny. But know this, in this new era of Boston Red Sox baseball, this winning era of Boston Red Sox baseball, Manny is the straw that stirs the drink. Roll Sox roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Jed Clampett, Boston Herald, En Vogue, Bull Durham, Rex Smith and Reggie Jackson
A buddy of mine sent me thislink. I never thought I’d live to see the day somebody used me as a reference. Wikipedia or not. I am footnote number five. “Drew has also been criticized by fans and the media for his perceived lack of effort, leading to nicknames such as ‘D.L. Drew’ or ‘Nancy Drew.’” Thank you JD. Thank you Wikipedia. Thank you Al Gore.
Josh Q. Public:Pégate para acá y siente el impacto. Pegate para acà y siente el impacto. Pegate para acà, pegate para acá, pegate para acá y siente el impacto. -Daddy Yankee
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! Pedro Martinez. Vote Pedro! Everybody’s yammering about Roger Clemens. Everybody’s jammering about Andy Petitie. What about Pedro? What about, pound for pound, the best pitcher of this generation? What about, pound for pound, the cleanest pitcher of this generation? Zestfully clean. Zestfully clean. You’re not fully clean until you’re Zestfully clean. Pedro: “I dominated that era and I did it clean. I can stand by my numbers and I can be proud of them.” He should be proud of them. Proud as a peacock. Proud as a peacock in 1999. Best pitcher I ever saw in 1999. ‘Cuz they say two thousand zero zero party over, oops out of time. So tonight I’m gonna party like it’s 1999. Fenway Park. Dominican flags galore. Punchados galore. In 1999 Pedro went 23-4. In 1999, Pedro had a 2.07 ERA. In 1999, Pedro threw a club record 313 strikeouts. Yowza! Need more? Need more, senor? Need more so you can know the score? In 1999, struck out fifteen or more batters six times. In 1999, he pitched a masterpiece seventeen punchado, one hit game against the hated New York Yankees. In 1999, he allowed only thirty-seven walks. Big deal, you say? Who cares, you say? Those thirty seven walks are the lowest total in history for a member of the 300-strikeout club! How about that? How about this? In 1999, Pedro only gave up nine dings. None of them with runners on base. Goodness! Greatness. The 1999 All Star Game. Ted Williams is wheeled into Fenway. Grown men are brought to tears. Pedro is the American League starter. More grown men are brought to tears. Barry Larkin is brought is brought to tears. Larry Walker is brought to tears. Slamming Sammy Sosa is brought to tears. Mark McGwire is brought to tears. Brought to tears as Pedro strikes out the first four batters he faces. First time in All-Star Game history that a player had struck out the first four batters. Kevin Mitchell reaches on an error. Down goes Bagwell! Five of six total batters. Ties the A.L. record of five strikeouts in an All-Star Game. He did it in two innings. All-Star MVP at Fenway Park. Do you BELIEVE? I did. The rest of the season is a blur. As your Curly Headed Girlfriend wrote: “The Red Sox finish their startling regular season inBaltimore today and open a best-of-five playoff series on Wednesday. The Sox were not expected to be in the 1999 post-season tournament, but are back in the playoffs on the strength of a historic season by their 27-year-old, 5-foot-11, 174-pound right-handed ace.” Pedro has to leave game one due to back spasms. Pedro has to leave game one after pitching four shut-out innings due to back spasms. A collective gasp rises from the city of Boston. For every win, someone must fail. But there comes a point when, when we exhale. We exhaled in game four. Number four Bobby Orr. Game tied 8-8 in the fourth. Here he comes. Here comes Pedro. Here comes Pedro in relief. Pedro finishes the game. Pedro holds the Indians hitless. Pedro strikes out eight in six innings. Pedro is dead. Long live Pedro! Pedro is carried off the field by his teammates. Pedro: “I wasn’t going to let go, I wasn’t going to do that…I had to be out there as long as I could.” And that’s the way it was with Pedro. He always wanted the ball. Always. He only pitched one game in ALDS against the Yankees. Seven big innings. Two paltry hits. Twelve huge punchados. Zero runs. Great game. Petie beats Clemens. It’s a moral victory, but nothing more. Sox lose 4-1 in the series.
Pedro finished the 1999 season with AL Pitcher of the Month honors for April, May, June, and September. Pedro finished the 1999 season as the All Star Game MVP. Pedro finished the 1999 season as Sporting News Pitcher of the Year, ESPN A.L. Pitcher of the Year, ESPN Player of the Year. Thomas A. Yawkey Award (Red Sox MVP), Associated Press Player of the Year, American League Cy Young Award. He wins the pitching Triple Crown (ERA 2.08, Punchados 313, and Wins 23). Incredible! He should have won the MVP too. He won in first place votes, but two sportswriters left him off the ballot because they thought pitchers had no business winning the MVP. I-Rod? C’mon. Who would you rather have had?
Public Acknowledgements: Napoleon Dynamite, Prince, Dan Shaughnessy, Whitney Houston and Charles VII
Josh Q. Public:It is the spirit and not the form of law that keeps justice alive. -Earl Warren
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit. I do not like it in a house. I do not like it with a mouse. I do not like it here or there. I do not like it anywhere. You may say I’m a homer. You may say I’m out of order. I say, you’re out of order! You’re out of order! The whole trial is out of order! Boom Boom Beckett was robbed. He was jobbed. He was rump swabbed. Just like Pedro was robbed by I-Rod oh so many years ago. I don’t care that in the last game of the season Beckett looked more like Matt Young than he did Cy Young. I don’t care that CC pitched more innings than Boom Boom. I don’t care that he threw fifteen more strikeouts. I don’t care what they say about us anyway. I don’t care about that. I care that Josh Boom Boom Beckett was the best pitcher in the American League this year. Who would you want on the hill? King of the Hill. And just so you know, Beckett struck out (.96) per inning while Sabathia struck out even fewer, a paltry (.84) per inning. So put that in your pipe and smoke it. Boom Boom Beckett walked only forty batters all season. Boom Boom Beckett only allowed seventeen bombs. Boom Boom Beckett Beckett limited opponents to a .245 batting average. Boom Boom Beckett held opponents to .207 with runners in scoring position. He outshined Sabathia in all these categories. Outdevined Sabathia. Out walked the line Sabathia. Doesn’t that count for something? Doesn’t twenty games? I remember when twenty games meant something. I remember when that was how a pitcher was measured. Boy, the way Glenn Miller played. Songs that made the Hit Parade. Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days. Not so much anymore. Not for Mark Feinsand of the New York Daily News or Jorge Ortiz of USA Today. I guess twenty games means bupkus to them. Those Bozos each listed Sabathia, Lackey and Fausto Carmona on their ballots. No Boom Boom Beckett in sight. That just ain’t right. Makes you wanna fight. Fight for your right. To party! No partying now. Not after this travesty. Not after this mockery. This trial is a travesty. It’s a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a mockery of a travesty of two mockeries of a sham. I guess you can’t have everything.
Public Acknowledgements: Dr. Seuss, And Justice For All, Weezer, Mike Judge, The Brockton Enterprise, All In The Family, Beastie Boys and Woody Allen
Josh Q. Public:The party’s over, it’s time to call it a day. They’ve burst your pretty balloon and taken the moon away. It’s time to wind up the masquerade. Just make your mind up, the piper must be paid. -Nat King Cole
Public Service Announcement: Ok here we go! They did it. They really did it. We’re somebody’s now. Millions of people look at this blog everyday! This is the kind of spontaneous publicity - your name in print - that makes people. The Red Sox are in print! Things are going to start happening to them now. Things have been happening all season, and I’m going to miss it. Deeply miss it. Sorely miss it. Like my main man Rogers Hornsby always says: “People ask me what I do in winter when there’s no baseball. I’ll tell you what I do. I stare out the window and wait for spring.” That’s what I’m doing now. I’m waiting for spring. Waiting for another Red Sox championship run. Waiting for another wire to wire championship run. But Secretariat is all alone! He’s out there almost a 16th of a mile away from the rest of the horses! Secretariat is in a position that seems impossible to catch. As it turns out, nobody could catch the Sox. Not the Yankees. Not the Angels. Not the Indians. Not the Rockies. Not nobody. And I’m going to miss it. There’s something missing from my life. Cuts me open like a knife. It leaves me vulnerable. I have this disease. I shake like an incurable. God help me please.
Yes I’m going to miss these guys. I’m going to miss my two favorite words in the English language. Papi’s up! On his gimpy knee, he was not the Papi we knew and loved but still a force to be reckoned with. He played a flawless first base in the Series. In game three, he hit a line-drive to right smack dab in the middle of a Red Sox six-run third. Papi in the middle. Where he at? In the middle. Yep, Papi’s in the middle. Where that at? In the middle. In the middle of the line up and the middle of a championship-clinching inning. I’m going to miss Manny being Manny. Hat falling, bare handed off the walling, leaving Kenny Lofton balling, Manny. Manny is the best right-handed batter in my lifetime. Big game? ####, pay me. Little game? ####, pay me. Fastball? ####, pay me. Change? ####, pay me. While A-Broad deserts the teams he claimed he wanted to stay with, Manny stays with the team he claimed he wanted to leave. I’m going to miss Mike Lowell. Throw in, Mike Lowell. World Series MVP, Mike Lowell. Gold Glove, Mike Lowell. Lowell homered, doubled and scored twice in the Game Four clincher at Coors Field. His dirty uniform typifying his whatever-it-takes attitude. I hope I don’t have to miss him next season. I’m going to miss Boom Boom Beckett. Has there ever been a bigger game pitcher? I never saw Bullet Bob Gibson. I never saw Sandy Koufax. I’ve seen Boom Boom. I’ll take my chances with him. I’m going to miss Curt Schilling. I may be missing him forever. His winning performance in Game Two may have been his last winning performance in a Red Sox uniform. What he did one night in 2004 solidifies his place in my heart. I’m going to miss the rookies. Mighty Mite, Dustin Pedroia. Here I come to save the day. That means that Mighty Mouse is on his way. Yes sir, when there is a wrong to right, Mighty Mouse will join the fight. On the sea or on the land, he gets the situation well in hand. Dustin Pedroia, Rookie of the Year. Jacoby Elisbury, next year’s Rookie of the Year. Inserted into the staring order in Game Six against the Indians. Became the third rookie all time with four hits in one Series game and tied Matt Williams as the only player to hit two doubles in one Series game against the Rockies in Game Three. Burning down the base paths. Hold tight, wait ’till the party’s over. Hold tight, we’re in for nasty weather. There has got to be a way. Burning down the house. Running like people were chasing him. No No Nanette Clay Buchholz. Dice-K. Okie. The future’s so bright, they gotta wear shades. I’m going to miss Tek. The captain. Calling a game like no other. No one shakes off Tek. No one. I’ll miss Redemption Man JD Drew. I’ll miss Coco Crisp’s circus catches in center. I’ll mis John Lester. Was there a feel gooder story of the year. If so, I missed that too. I’ll miss Papelbon’s fist pumping, Irish jigging, lights out closing. I’ll even miss Julio Lugo, the latest of the revolving door shortstops around here. Yes, I will miss them all. Until next year, Roll Sox roll! Dynastic!
Public Acknowledgements: The Jerk, Chic Anderson, Police, Monie Love, Goodfellas and the Talking Heads
Josh Q. Public:You’re still the one that makes me strong. Still the one I want to take along. We’re still having fun, and you’re still the one. -Orleans
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! Schill the Thrill. Taking the hill. Filling the bill. Still gots the skill. The skills to pay the bills. Last night, maybe for the last time in a Red Sox uniform, Curt Schilling went out and did what he does best. He went out and took over a World Series game. Sherman, set the way back machine to 1993. Ahh, 1993. Rodney King. Waco. Schindler’s List. Sienfeld. Das EFX. And Curt Schilling. Schilling was 27. Beckett’s age. Curt Schilling was Josh Beckett’s age when he made his first World Series start for the Fightin’ Phils. He got knocked around. Rocked around. Shocked around. He gave up seven runs to theBlue Jays in 61/3 innings. He hasn’t lost a World Series game since. Five days later, Schilling came back to shut out Toronto. The rest is history. Schilling now owns an 11-2 record and 2.23 ERA in the post season. He may have ceded his legendary status to Josh Beckett, but remember this, and never forget, Schilling is big game pitcher. Schilling came to Boston a champion. Schilling came to Boston a World Series MVP. He came. He saw. He conquered. Schilling: “I’m going to Boston to break an 86-year-old curse.” And break it he did. He may not have done it alone, but what he did in Game Six, against the Bombers, goes down as The Most Heroic Performance I’ve Ever Seen. The win against the Cardinals, icing on the cake. ####, and I do mean ####, not in a loving, Red Sox way, but in a stupid #### way, Kevin Millar, asked this: ‘’When he comes into the game, people cheer him like he’s the Pope…Why does he get a free pass?” Are you out of your goddamned mind, Kevin? Do you really need an answer to that? Schilling’s overall career in Boston has not been perfect for sure. He’s been hurt. He’s been about a .500 pitcher since 2004. But it’s games like last night. Big games. Important games. Imperative games. Games like that there. That’s why he gets a pass. If that was indeed the Thrill’s last game in a Red Sox uniform, it was fitting. Schilling: “I don’t think there’s anyone on the planet better than me in a game that matters.” I don’t either. Roll Sox roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Bill Burt, Beastie Boys, Mr. Peabody and Julius Caesar
Josh Q. Public: I got somethin’ that makes me wanna shout. I got somethin’ that tells me what it’s all about. Huh, I got soul and I’m super bad! -James Brown
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! The World Series. The World Series at Fenway Park. Like my main man Bart Giamatti always says: “As I grew up, I knew that as a building (Fenway Park) was on the level of Mount Olympus, the Pyramid at Giza, the nation’s capitol, the czar’s Winter Palace, and the Louvre — except, of course, that it is better than all those inconsequential places.” Cowabunga! As the oldest of all current Major League Baseball stadiums, Fenway has been home to many a legend. Home to Teddy Ballgame. The Kid. The greatest hitter who ever lived. Home to Yaz. Caaaaaarl Yastrzemski….Caaaaaarl Yastrzemski….Caaaaaarl Yastrzemski….The man we call Yaz. We love him! Home to Lynn and Rice. The Goldust Twins. Home to Joe Cronin. The original Mr. Clutch. He’s not your everyday-type prankster. He’s Joe C, the original gangster. Home to Carlton Fisk. There it goes! It’s a long drive…if it stays fair…home run! Home to Wade Boggs. Home to Pedro Martinez. As much as it makes me want to puke up in my mouth, home to Roger Clemens. And yes, Fenway Park is home to Manny Ramirez. So, where does Manny fit in all this? What is his place? If you ask me, he’s right at the top. A number one. Top of the list. King of the hill.
Heresy you say? Blasphemy? Apostasy? I say, free your mind and the rest will follow. Be colorblind, don’t be so shallow. I’ve heard the criticisms. You lollygag the ball around the outfield. You lollygag your way down to first. You lollygag in and out of the dugout. You know what that makes you? A lollygagger! People take offense to his posing after titanic moon shots. People can shut the hell up. All I know is, for the second time in four years, the Sox snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. Snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and played themselves into the World Series. Played themselves into the World Series thanks in large part to Mr. Ramirez. Just look at game seven. Manny ####s in the first run with a hard grounder that left Indians shortstop Jhonny Peralta looking utterly foolish. He then made the defensive play of the game. Playing the Green Monster like nobody’s business. Takin’ care of business. Fielding a Kenny Lofton line drive off the wall and fires the ball so fast to second base that it fooled everybody. That play right there was the ballgame. It took all the breath out of the Cleveland Indians. You’re every song I sing. You’re the music that I play. And you take my breath away. And that’s just it. Manny is the music the Red Sox play. You can say he doesn’t care. But this Red Sox baseball team is a team that understands losing ain’t the be all end all. It’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s nothing that should get you down. I’ve been beat up, I’ve been thrown out but I’m not down, I’m not down. I’ve been shown up, but I’ve grown up, and I’m not down, I’m not down. And that is the Red Sox mantra. That is how they win. Hit me with your best shot! Why don’t you hit me with your best shot! Hit me with your best shot! Fire away! So say what you will about Manny. Whatever gives you a thrill about Manny. Sing like the Barber of Seville about Manny. But know this, in this new era of Boston Red Sox baseball, this winning era of Boston Red Sox baseball, Manny is the straw that stirs the drink. Roll Sox roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Charles Pierce, Ice-T, Frank Sinatra, En Vogue, Bull Durham, BTO, Rex Smith, Clash, Pat Benatar and Reggie Jackson
Josh Q. Public:Don’t you know I’m still standing better than I ever did. Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid. -Elton John
Public Service Announcement: Ok, here we go! What’s crack-a-lacking sports fans? Woo doggy! Theeeeeee Red Sox win! Down 3-1. Against all odds. Take a good look at me now, ‘cos I’ll still be standing here. And you coming back to me is against all odds. It’s the chance I’ve gotta take. Take a look at me now. Take a look at the Boston Red Sox. Lookie lookie the Red Sox get the cookie. The world they shookie. I shook up the world! I shook up the world! I done wrestled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale; handcuffed lightning, thrown thunder in jail; only last week, I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick; I’m so mean I make medicine sick. The Red Sox made the Cleveland Indians sick. Dice-K showed his worth and helped the Red Sox reach the World Series for the second time in the past four seasons. Maybe it was redemption. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe the Red Sox are what we thought they were, if you want to crown them crown them. I’m crowning them. I’m crowning Manny. He has been much maligned. Much maligned but walked the line. Threw on a line. Threw out Kenny Lofton and scared the bejeezus out of him. Scared him so much Lofton later held at third and refused to score to tie it up. I’m crowning Dustin Pedroia. Pedroia’s first career postseason home run made him the first rookie to go yard in an ALCS Game Seven. He joined National Leaguers Andruw Jones and Miguel Cabrera as the third rookie to hit an LCS Game 7 homer. But that’s not all. He tore into a Betancourt fastball for a bases-clearing double in the eighth. That double made him the first rookie to amass five RBIs in an LCS game. He scored three runs, finishing the series with eight runs scored, a new ALCS rookie record. Goodness gracious! I’m crowning Boom Boom Beckett. The best big game pitcher I’ve ever seen. The best big game pitcher there’s ever been. The best big game pitcher from here to Abelene. I’m crowning Curt Schilling. Even without his bloody sock he gets things done. Doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well. Throwing seven innings of masterful six-hit baseball. When the Saturday night was over, Schilling was 4-0 (1.37 ERA) in five starts with his team facing elimination. Yowza! I’m crowning Jonathon Papelbon. The best closer in all of baseball. Entered in the eighth. Entered in the eighth with two on. Entered in the eight with none out. Entered in the eighth and struck out Neanderthal Hafner on three pitches. Got Victor Martinez to ground out. Got Garko to fly to deep center, where Ellsbury made a fabulous running catch near the Boston bullpen. I’m crowning JD Drew. Grand Slamming JD Drew. All manning JD Drew. I’m crowning Coco Crisp. Starting centerfielder all season. Only to be sat down in games six and seven of the ALCS. Bitter? No way. No shame in his game. Made a spectacular grab. An astonishing grab. A stupendous hustle grab to end the game. Running far to make an over-the-shoulder grab before slamming into the wall. That my friends, is what a baseball player looks like. This my friends, is what a baseball team looks like. Now it’s time for the Red Sox to tap the Rockies. Roll Sox roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Phil Collins, Muhammed Ali, Dennis Green, Johnny Cash and LL Cool J
Josh Q. Public:You gotta roll, roll, roll. You gotta thrill my soul, all right. Roll, roll, roll, roll-a, thrill my soul. Let it roll, all night long.-Doors
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! Woo hoo hoo! It’s JD Drew. Everybody’s been hating on JD. Everybody’s been irating on JD. Everybody’s been defecating on JD. Not today though. We gotta sha-la-la-la-la-la, live for today though. And don’t worry ’bout tomorrow, hey, hey, hey though. ‘Cause the Sox are rolling today. Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’. Though the streams are swollen. Keep them Bosox rollin’. Red Sox! How ’bout them Red Sox? How ’bout JD Drew? Worth the waiting, right? The anticipating, right? Dustin Pedroia and Kevin Youkilis get on by way of the infield hit. Papi’s up! Draws a three and two walk. Bases chucked. Manny? King of the salami? K. Lowell? Mr. RBI himself? Pop out. Here he comes. Goat of the year. No paddle and boat of the year. Grand slammy! Strawberry Jammy! Happy as a Cape Cod clammy! Ballgame! He was the first player in college baseball history to hit 30 home runs and steal 30 bases in the same season. As a freshman, he became the first player to hit three home runs in a single College World Series game. Yowza! As a Seminole, he became one of only three players in college baseball history to have 100 hits, 100 runs and 100 RBIs. Yowza again. In his rookie year, as a Cardinal, he was drawing comparisons to Stan the Man and the Mick. Then the injuries began. Then the name-calling began. NancyDrew. DL Drew. Sticks and stones. 2004. Best season of his life. Power, patience, and defense. That was his mantra. .305/.436/.569 with 31 home runs, 118 walks, and 96 RBI’s. Finished 6th in the MVP voting. Not for nothing, last year’s numbers were not vastly different from those of 2004. And not for nothing else, he plays the hell out of right field. Dwight Evans style. Last night, JD redeemed himself. Tonight, Dice-K needs to do the same. Yup, stay away from my window. Stay away from my back door too. Disconnect the telephone line. Relax baby and draw that blind. Tonight’s the night. It’s gonna be all right. Roll Sox, roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Bob Ryan, Grass Roots, Rawhide and Rod Stewart
Josh Q. Public:So come on get your rocks off. I’m gonna knock your Sox off, you’ll see, oh yeah. -Steve Miller Band
Public Service Announcement: OK, here we go! Boom Boom Beckett! Goodness gracious me oh my oh. Did you see Beckett light up Ohio? I did. I got chills. They’re multiplying. And I’m losing control. ‘Cause the power you’re supplying, it’s electrifying. Boom Boom was electrifying. He’s the one that I want. Hoo hoo hoo. The one that I want in big games. Like Ned the pie maker bringing the Sox back from the dead. Pick up my bones. Erase my name from off the tombstones. I’ll rock a mausoleum, backyard or coliseum. Boom Beckett rocked a coliseum. Rocked the Jake. For the second time in this series, Beckett smashed CC Sabathia. I said C. CC Rider. Oh see, what you have done. A whole lot of nothing, that’s what. Beckett threw 109 pitches. 109 beautiful pitches. 109 dazzling pitches. 109 bewildering pitches. He dropped in knee buckling curveballs. He dropped in mind bending change ups. He threw heat. High heat. Hard heat. High hard 96 mph heat. High hard 96 mph heat well into the eighth inning. High hard 96 mph heat well into the eighth inning and proving he is the best post season pitcher of all time. Move over Reggie, there’s a new Mr. October. There’s a new Mr. October and he goes by the name of Boom Boom Beckett. Last night, Beckett went eight innings. Last night Beckett gave up one measly run. Last night Beckett gave up a paltry five hits with one meager walk. Last night, he threw eleven strikeouts. Last nite, she said, oh baby don’t feel so down. Red Sox fans don’t feel down. How could we? How could we with Boom Boom on the mound? For this postseason, he has a 1.17 ERA. In 23 innings, he has struck out 26 and walked one. Yowza! Those are Bob Gibson numbers. Those are Sandy Koufax numbers. Historic numbers. Momentous numbers. Illustrious numbers. Now it’s time for Schilling and D-Nice to follow suit. Roll Sox roll!
Public Acknowledgements: Grease, Pushing Daisies, House of Pain, Elvis and The Strokes
improved his record to 8-0 to become the first Japanese born pitcher to win nine consecutive regular-season big-league decisions on this side of the Pacific. Jon Lester staves off cancer to throw a no-no Nanette. Rookie Justin Masterson gets called up from the farm to pitch a gem in his first ever start. Big bad Bartolo Colon, the former Cy Young winner, picks up his first win in a Red Sox uniform. Don’t get any better than that. Everything’s coming up roses. You’ll be swell! You’ll be great! Gonna have the whole world on the plate! Sarting here, starting now. Honey, everything’s coming up roses! Yes they are. The Sox are the hottest team in baseball. You know it. I know it. Casey Stengel knows it. Good pitching will always stop good 
hitting and vice-versa. The Red Sox are hitting. They have averaged seven runs per game during this current streak. The Red Sox are pitching. Despite a lackluster performance last night from the bullpen, the pitching has allowed a meager four runs per game during this current streak. This team is destined for greatness. This thing is theirs to lose. Sean Casey: “This is probably the best team I’ve ever played on.” That means better than the 2006 World Series Tigers. That means better than 1997’s World Series Indians. Now, the greatest team Sean Casey has ever played on, hits the road. Now, the defending world champion Red Sox, with baseball’s best record, hits the road to begin a ten-game road trip. Say, here I am, on the road again. There I am, up on the stage. Here I go, playing star again. There I go, turn the page. Roll Sox roll!
Ankiel story was good. You thought the Josh Hamilton story was good. You were right. This one’s better. You know it by now. Bellarmine Preparatory School. Tacoma, Washington. Phenom. Phenomenal. Gatorade State Player of the Year. Minor Leagues. Portland Sea Dogs. League-leading 2.61 ERA. League-best 163 strikeouts. Eastern League Pitcher of the Year. Red Sox Minor League Pitcher of the Year. Year-end Topps AA All-Star squad. On top of the world looking down on creation. Best young pitcher in the nation. More fun than 101 Dalmatians. Out of this world like the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The rookie lefty made his Major League debut in June ‘06. The rookie lefty went 7-2. The rookie lefty threw sixty Ks in eighty innings. The rookie lefty 
contracted the cancer. Ain’t that a shame? My tears fell like rain. On August 27th, 2006 Lester was scratched from his scheduled start due to a sore back. The following day he was placed on the 15 day disabled list. Three days later, it was reported that Lester had been diagnosed with a treatable form of anaplastic large cell lymphoma. There it was. There was a kind of hush all over the world. A deafening hush. Made my insides turn to mush. Another dream crushed. But this kid’s a fighter. He fights. He fought off the cancer. And just like The Terminator, who just like Jack Torrance, is baaaack! On March 5, Lester made his first appearance in a 2007 spring training game. He threw 8 pitches and retired the first three batters he faced. Good news. Real good news. He hasn’t looked back since. And now 
this. And now Lester is the first pitcher to win the clinching game of a World Series in one season and throw a no-hitter the next year since Sandy Koufax. Yowza! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good fellow! For he’s a jolly good feeeelllllooooww! Which nobody can deny! Curt Schilling can’t deny it: “This isn’t even about baseball. It just doesn’t get any better the way a guy like that comes back to us.” No it doesn’t Curt, no it doesn’t.
place behind the Red Sox. Last place behind the Orioles. Last place behind the Blue Jays. The first time that the Yankees have resided in sole possession of last place this many games in since 1995. Ha ha ha! Poor old George Steinbrenner must be rolling around in his grave right about now. Can you blame him? The Yankees are atrocious. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious! If you say it loud enough, you’ll always sound precocious. I don’t care. I don’t care if I sound precocious. It’s true. Like my main Casey Stengel always says, “Good pitching will always stop good hitting and vice-versa.” Well, Yankees pitchers aren’t pitching and Yankees hitters aren’t hitting. You do the math. We all know about the pitching woes. The well documented pitching woes. We all know about Phil Hughes. On the DL. We all know 
about Ian Kennedy. Akinori Iwamura’s bomb on Kennedy’s fourth pitch of the game last night put the Rays ahead for good. We all know about Kei Igawa. Back down on the farm. We all know about them. It’s the hitting, or lack there of. It’s the lack of hitting that’s sinking this Yankees ship. It’s the lack of hitting that has these Yankees in such trouble. Big trouble. Big trouble in little China. Adventure doesn’t come any bigger! Against Tampa Bay’s four starting pitchers, the Yankees scored two runs in 27 1/3 innings. On this 2-4 road trip, they hit .214 with runners in scoring position. 9-for-42 with zero home runs and a paltry three extra-base hits. Ha ha ha! Where’s A-Broad when you need him? Where’s hip hip 
Jor-ge? There’s no need to fear. Captain Caveman is here. Leadoff hitter Captain Caveman was 1-for-18 in the Tampa Bay series. That’s no way to start your day. Maybe putting on gold lame underwear is. Jason Giambi is hitting .181. Jason Giambi is in a funk. You know what that means. Whenever he is in a prolonged hitting funk, he wears a gold lamé, tiger-stripe 
go-ahead homer in the ninth inning or later. No such thing as clutch. Bill James can eat my shorts. I’m more of a Siwoffian statistician anyway. Big Papi ain’t right. That much is clear. Manny is right. Right as rain. Well, that’s all right, mama. That’s all right for you. That’s all right mama, just anyway you do. Manny did in the top of the ninth. Two outs. One on. All tied up. Manny saunters up. You knew it. I knew it. Bill James knew it. Gone! Connectamundo. Power pose. Why pitch to this cat? Eck tried it. Wow! Joe Girardi tried it over the week-end. See what happens? Manny makes you pay. That’s what happens. That’s the way it is with a wiseguy partner. He gets his money no matter what. You got no business? 
Enough is enough. Second at bat. Single. Next at bat. Going, going, gone! How about that? Now it’s baseball season. Big Papi wins another one. Now the game is on. The clutchest of the clutch once again proved that he is too much. The man with the golden touch. Bill James may disagree. Bill James may tell you there’s no such thing as clutch. Bill James can go to Hell. I saw Senor Octubre go yard off of Jared Washburn in the 10th inning of Game Three of the 2004 ALDS. Ohhhh Doctor! I saw Senor Octubre go yard in the twelfth inning off of Paul Quantrill in Game Four of the 2004 ALCS. Whoa Nelly! I saw Senor Octubre smash a fourteenth-inning single to center field driving in the 
Manny picked up where he left off in last year’s championship post-season. Last year’s championship post season where Manny tore it up. Hardcored it up. Katy bar the doored it up. Katy bar the doored it up with four bombs. Katy bar the doored it up with sixteen baseknocks. Sure last season wasn’t his best. Sure last season was the first season he didn’t receive any MVP votes. Sure last season his .493 slugging percentage was an all time low. This year will be different. He’s worked harder than ever in the off-season. And that’s saying something. That’s saying a lot. He’s spent two months working out in Arizona. He’s abandoned the split grip in his batting stance. He’s no 
longer resting his bat on his shoulder as the pitcher heads into his windup. Manny finished spring training at .300. He’s started the regular season with a 
jaws of defeat. Snatched victory from the jaws of defeat and played themselves into the World Series. Played themselves into the World Series thanks, in large part, to Mr. Ramirez. Took all the breath out of the Cleveland Indians. You’re every song I sing. You’re the music that I play. And you take my breath away. And that’s just it. Manny is the music the Red Sox play. So say what you will about Manny. Whatever gives you a thrill about Manny. Sing like the Barber of Seville about Manny. But know this, in this new era of Boston Red Sox baseball, this winning era of Boston Red Sox baseball, Manny is the straw that stirs the drink. Roll Sox roll! 
pitcher I ever saw in 1999. ‘Cuz they say two thousand zero zero party over, oops out of time. So tonight I’m gonna party like it’s 1999. Fenway Park. Dominican flags galore. Punchados galore. In 1999 Pedro went 23-4. In 1999, Pedro had a 2.07 ERA. In 1999, Pedro threw a club record 313 strikeouts. Yowza! Need more? Need more, senor? Need more so you can know the score? In 1999, struck out fifteen or more batters six times. In 1999, he pitched a masterpiece seventeen punchado, one hit game against the hated New York Yankees. In 1999, he allowed only thirty-seven walks. Big deal, you say? Who cares, you say? Those thirty seven walks are the lowest total in history for a member of the 300-strikeout club! 
How about that? How about this? In 1999, Pedro only gave up nine dings. None of them with runners on base. Goodness! Greatness. The 1999 All Star Game. Ted Williams is wheeled into Fenway. Grown men are brought to tears. Pedro is the American League starter. More grown men are brought to tears. Barry Larkin is brought is brought to tears. Larry Walker is brought to tears. Slamming Sammy Sosa is brought to tears. Mark McGwire is brought to tears. Brought to tears as Pedro strikes out the first four batters he faces. First time in All-Star Game history that a player had struck out the first four batters. Kevin Mitchell reaches on an error. Down goes Bagwell! Five of six total batters. Ties the A.L. record of five strikeouts in an All-Star Game. He did it in two innings. All-Star MVP at Fenway Park. Do you BELIEVE? I did. The rest of the season is a blur. As your Curly Headed Girlfriend wrote: “The Red 
Sox finish their startling regular season in Baltimore today and open a best-of-five playoff series on Wednesday. The Sox were not expected to be in the 1999 post-season tournament, but are back in the playoffs on the strength of a historic season by their 27-year-old, 5-foot-11, 174-pound right-handed ace.” Pedro has to leave game one due to back spasms. Pedro has to leave game one after pitching four shut-out innings due to back spasms. A collective gasp rises from the city of Boston. For every win, someone must fail. But there comes a point when, when we exhale. We exhaled in game four. Number four Bobby Orr. Game tied 8-8 in the fourth. Here he comes. Here comes Pedro. Here comes Pedro in relief. Pedro finishes the game. Pedro holds the Indians hitless. Pedro strikes out eight in six innings. Pedro is dead. Long live Pedro! Pedro is carried off the field by his teammates. Pedro: “I wasn’t going to let go, I wasn’t going to do that…I had to be out there as long as I could.” And that’s the way it was with Pedro. He always wanted the ball. Always. He only pitched one game in ALDS against the Yankees. Seven big innings. Two paltry hits. Twelve huge punchados. Zero runs. Great game. Petie beats Clemens. It’s a moral victory, but nothing more. Sox lose 4-1 in the series. 
the season Beckett looked more like Matt Young than he did Cy Young. I don’t care that CC pitched more innings than Boom Boom. I don’t care that he threw fifteen more strikeouts. I don’t care what they say about us anyway. I don’t care about that. I care that Josh Boom Boom Beckett was the best pitcher in the American League this year. Who would you want on the hill? King of the Hill. And just so you know, Beckett struck out (.96) per inning while Sabathia struck out even fewer, a paltry (.84) per inning. So put that in your pipe and smoke it. 
batting average. Boom Boom Beckett held opponents to .207 with runners in scoring position. He outshined Sabathia in all these categories. Outdevined Sabathia. Out walked the line Sabathia. Doesn’t that count for something? Doesn’t twenty games? I remember when twenty games meant something. I remember when that was how a pitcher was measured. Boy, the way Glenn Miller played. Songs that made the Hit Parade. Guys like us, we had it made. Those were the days. Not so much anymore. Not for Mark Feinsand of the New York Daily News or Jorge Ortiz of USA 
Today. I guess twenty games means bupkus to them. Those Bozos each listed Sabathia, Lackey and Fausto Carmona on their ballots. No Boom Boom Beckett in sight. That just ain’t right. Makes you wanna fight. Fight for your right. To party! No partying now. Not after this travesty. Not after this mockery. This trial is a travesty. It’s a travesty of a mockery of a sham of a mockery of a travesty of two mockeries of a sham. I guess you can’t have everything.
now. I’m waiting for spring. Waiting for another Red Sox championship run. Waiting for another wire to wire championship run. But Secretariat is all alone! He’s out there almost a 16th of a mile away from the rest of the horses! Secretariat is in a position that seems impossible to catch. As it turns out, nobody could catch the Sox. Not the Yankees. Not the Angels. Not the Indians. Not the Rockies. Not nobody. And I’m going to miss it. There’s something missing from my life. Cuts me open like a knife. It leaves me vulnerable. I have this disease. I shake like an incurable. God help me please.
going to miss Curt Schilling. I may be missing him forever. His winning performance in Game Two may have been his last winning performance in a Red Sox uniform. What he did one night in 2004 solidifies his place in my heart. I’m going to miss the rookies. Mighty Mite, Dustin Pedroia. Here I come to save the day. That means that Mighty Mouse is on his way. Yes sir, when there is a wrong to right, Mighty Mouse will join the fight. On the sea or on the land, he gets the situation well in hand. Dustin Pedroia, Rookie of the Year. Jacoby Elisbury, next year’s Rookie of the Year. Inserted into the staring order in Game Six against the Indians. Became the third rookie all time with four hits in one Series game and tied Matt Williams as the only player to hit two doubles in one Series game against the Rockies in Game Three. Burning 
Blue Jays in 61/3 innings. He hasn’t lost a World Series game since. Five days later, Schilling came back to shut out Toronto. The rest is history. Schilling now owns an 11-2 record and 2.23 ERA in the post season. He may have ceded his legendary status to Josh Beckett, but remember this, and never forget, Schilling is big game pitcher. Schilling came to Boston a champion. Schilling came to Boston a World Series MVP. He came. He saw. He conquered. Schilling: “I’m going to Boston to break an 86-year-old curse.” And break it he did. He may not have done it
alone, but what he did in Game Six, against the Bombers, goes down as The Most Heroic Performance I’ve Ever Seen. The win against the Cardinals, icing on the cake. 
the World Series. Played themselves into the World Series thanks in large part to Mr. Ramirez. Just look at game seven. Manny 
with a whale; handcuffed lightning, thrown thunder in jail; only last week, I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick; I’m so mean I make medicine sick. The Red Sox made the Cleveland Indians sick. Dice-K showed his worth and helped the Red Sox reach the World Series for the second time in the past four seasons. Maybe it was redemption. Maybe it was destiny. Maybe the Red Sox are what we thought they were, if you want to crown them crown them. I’m crowning them. I’m crowning Manny. He has been much maligned. Much maligned but walked the line. Threw on a line. Threw out Kenny Lofton and scared the bejeezus out of him. Scared him so much Lofton later held at third and refused to score to tie it up. I’m crowning Dustin Pedroia. Pedroia’s first career postseason home 
run made him the first rookie to go yard in an ALCS Game Seven. He joined National Leaguers Andruw Jones and Miguel Cabrera as the third rookie to hit an LCS Game 7 homer. But that’s not all. He tore into a Betancourt fastball for a bases-clearing double in the eighth. That double made him the first rookie to amass five RBIs in an LCS game. He scored three runs, finishing the series with eight runs scored, a new ALCS rookie record. Goodness gracious! I’m crowning Boom Boom Beckett. The best big game pitcher I’ve ever seen. The best big game pitcher there’s ever been. The best big game pitcher from here to Abelene. I’m crowning Curt Schilling. Even without his bloody sock he gets things done. Doin’ it and doin’ it and doin’ it well. Throwing seven innings of masterful six-hit baseball. When the Saturday night was over, Schilling was 4-0 (1.37 ERA) in five starts with his team facing elimination. Yowza! I’m crowning 
The anticipating, right? Dustin Pedroia and Kevin Youkilis get on by way of the infield hit. Papi’s up! Draws a three and two walk. Bases chucked. Manny? King of the salami? K. Lowell? Mr. RBI himself? Pop out. Here he comes. Goat of the year. No paddle and boat of the year. Grand slammy! Strawberry Jammy! Happy as a Cape Cod clammy! Ballgame! He was the first player in college baseball history to hit 30 home runs and steal 30 bases in the same season. As a freshman, he became the first player to hit three home runs in a single College World Series game. Yowza! As a Seminole, he became one of only three players in college baseball history to have 100 hits, 100 runs and 
CC Sabathia. I said C. CC Rider. Oh see, what you have done. A whole lot of nothing, that’s what. Beckett threw 109 pitches. 109 beautiful pitches. 109 dazzling pitches. 109 bewildering pitches. He dropped in knee buckling curveballs. He dropped in mind bending change ups. He threw heat. High heat. Hard heat. High hard 96 mph heat. High hard 96 mph heat well into the eighth inning. High hard 96 mph heat well into the eighth inning and proving he is the best post season pitcher of all time. Move over Reggie, there’s a new Mr. October. There’s a new Mr. October and he goes by the name of Boom Boom Beckett. Last 
night, Beckett went eight innings. Last night Beckett gave up one measly run. Last night Beckett gave up a paltry five hits with one meager walk. Last night, he threw eleven strikeouts. Last nite, she said, oh baby don’t feel so down. Red Sox fans don’t feel down. How could we? How could we with Boom Boom on the mound? For this postseason, he has a 1.17 ERA. In 23 innings, he has struck out 26 and walked one. Yowza! Those are Bob Gibson numbers. Those are Sandy Koufax numbers. Historic numbers. Momentous numbers. Illustrious numbers. Now it’s time for Schilling and D-Nice to follow suit. Roll Sox roll!