Wednesday, September 20, 2006

At the game last night, sitting in some wealthy bandwagoneer’s empty field box seats while the rain came down in drenching sheets, I held out hope.

Even after Wake had put us in a six-run hole after two innings.

If we could just eke out this win, then two more, if we could somehow sweep the Twinkies — get back at them for doing the same to us — we’d be 4.5 games out with nine left to play. Totally doable!

I kept hope alive, even as Ortiz grounded out to short (1st), struck out swinging (4th), struck out swinging again (6th), then hit into a fielders choice, with Loretta out at second (7th).

(The Twins, you may have heard, Big Papi’s old club, are the only opponent this season against whom he has not hit a home run.)

I let myself get all psyched when dirt dog Trot reached on a wild pitch in the eighth.

I didn’t get deflated, even after Lowell erased him on a DP.

I knew we were gonna tie it up when Vartitek pinch-hit for Gonzo with Mirabelli on first and Pedroia on second.

In the event, however, we did not. Tek fouled out to third.

But it was not until Papi struck out swinging in the bottom of the ninth, mercifully ending a long an drenching night, that I finally, at long last, allowed myself to acknowledge that we will not be playing post-season baseball in 2006.

We needed a sweep in order to keep any glinting ember alive. We couldn’t do it.

And I’m OK with that.

In other news…

* Vroom, vroom.

* Can you blame him? I sure can’t. Lemme rephrase that. I can blame him for hitting like dogshit all season. But I can’t blame Doug Mirabelli for being forward about his feelings about getting back to “his boys” on the Red Sox, nor for him taking a dig at the Padres and the pitiable NL on his way out. This is, let us not forget, a team that won the division last year with a .500 record.

* Congrats, Tek. I forgive you for fouling out last night. It was not meant to be.

* Not only is the bullpen wicked smaht, but they got good taste in tunes. Lenny D’s entrance music last night was the Pixies’ “Where Is My Mind.” But not the original band version, the reworked Frank Black Francis and Two Pale Boys version! How cool is that?

* I love ya, Trot. Always have. Even when you spend weeks on the DL, or pop up the first pitch, or forget how many outs there are and throw the ball into the bleachers, allowing three runs to score. (I was there for that one, did you hear me razzing you? I’m over it now.) Listen, your power numbers may be way down, but I’ll never forget this or this or those three doubles the night the good thing happened. Keep your chin up, man. No matter what happens, even if you’re in a different uniform, you’ll always be a Red Sox.