The Recipe For A Heart Attack

The game started off poorly. Posada unexpectedly went deep, but I just shook it off because Wake is the man. Then the red hot Sheffield strolled to the plate, menacing, evil grin and all, and delivered a shot into the Fenway air. Now the Sox are down 4-0, it’s early in the game, and the rejuvinated Al Leiter is pitching the game of his life. Thanks to MLB Extra Innings, I’ve seen Leiter get hammered, pounded and brutally tortured by opposing lineups, and now he looks like the second coming of Luis Tiant. What the hell is going on here? This is 53 year old Al Leiter and the Sox lineup looks about as confused as my dad after the vegetable casserole was placed on the dinner table. This can’t be happening.

I thought it was over. Sure I kept the faith and tried to delve myself in Rice Krispie Treats (shut up) to try and ease the pain, but it was just too much. The Yankees were about to close to ½ game in the standings, doing it in our park, on our turf, in our city. Saying they’re dangerous would be a big understatement. A-Rod goes deep again, and just as Jon Miller and Joe Morgan are about to kiss his ass once more, I turn the television off and walk away. No smashing mirrors or running around the house with a firecracker. No ambulances or praying sessions. Fine, we lost, lets go watch Faith Rewarded.

But, noooo, some internal creature told me to watch the game. That was the right thing to do. Under any circumstances, I promised myself after the ALCS, I would never give up on the Red Sox. With the help of some drugs, the next thing I knew, Manny hit a homer and Rivera was in the game. Psh. No big deal. The fat lady is way past singing. But a Nixon double play turns into a throwing error. Varitek and The Pro single. Wait, what? The bases are loaded? Nobody out? The Sox are down two?

I had faith in Alex Cora. Sure he was hitting .200 and may have been clipping his toenails in the clubhouse just a few innings ago, but…you know, he can do it! I figured that Damon was coming up next, and he’d win it for the Sox, so just try to avoid the double or triple play. That’s right, I had already assumed Damon would win the game and was pondering the possibility of a triple day. Speak of the devil, Cora grounds into a 5-2-3 double play. He was probably safe.

At that point, I was beyond dizziness. My knees had given out, I sunk to the ground, let out a moan, and just stared at the floor. It wasn’t over, right? But all of a sudden the Yanks have the confidence back. One more out. Damon curiously swings at the first pitch, grounds it softly to Cano, and the game is over. The AL East is closer than ever.

Hey, look at the bright side, we get Lou and his D’Rays for a little home cookin’. Niiiice.Just another day in the life of a Red Sox fan.