Tuesday, May 20, 2008

OK, so this is how it went down.

Get home, sit down, and, as is my wont, start flipping between the game and Olbermann.

I’m paying only sporadic attention as I eat dinner and read a magazine, but certainly noticing that Jon boy is chugging right along.

Around the middle sixth, I see the Royals still haven’t plated a run. “Nice outing so far for Lester,” I remark to the Sox Blogette.

At this moment, I still have not processed quite what’s transpiring.

A bit later, she and I head out for a quick errand. On WEEI, Castiglione says something about the crowd just wanting to get through the bottom of the eighth and get on with things.

I’m so thick, I figured he was talking about the cold weather at Fenway.

Only then did it penetrate my muddled mind like a bolt from the proverbial blue.

HOLYSHITHESTHROWINGAFUCKINGNOHITTER

I’d watched Buchholz do his thing up in Maine last September, but this is the first time an event of such import was communicated to me via the AM dial.

Breath was held. Fingers were crossed. Radio static swathed the next four at-bats with the gauzy feel of the timeless.

A walk to start the inning.

Then a strike swinging and Pena quickly ground-out to third

A ball, a foul, a ball, a strike swinging, and DeJesus ground to first.

And then noodle-bat Alberto Callaspo stepped in as a pinch-hitter.

“These are the kinds of guys who ruin stuff like this,” I said.

But not this time.

Still not quite sure what to say, except the blindingly obvious. It’s been better said many times over already...

* He’s come a such a long way.

* He’s an inspiration to everyone.

* He keeps gilding his resume with stuff most guys, many much older than him, only dream of.

* He’s got the manager he deserves.

* To say nothing of the center fielder.

* And, of course, the catcher. (Four! Imagine if it was five?)

Three of the last five no-no’s in baseball have come courtesy of Red Sox prospects. (We’re making the Yanks’ much-vaunted youth infusion look piddling by comparison.)

And if Schilling hadn’t shaken off his captain last June, we’d be looking at three no-hitters in the span of 151 games. Pretty remarkable.

We are living in glorious times. What can one say? Not much else, except to echo one of Jon Lester’s teammates, as picked up last night by NESN’s camera: “Un-fucking-believable.”

5/20/2008 1:13:00 PM by Mike Miliard | Comments [0] |