Faithful

Though Pedro’s thrown only 101 pitches, Francona goes by the book, bringing in Timlin to set up. Timlin gives up back-to-back singles and doesn’t record an out. On Embree’s first batter, the young slugger Justin Morneau, the Twins pull a double steal. Morneau then skies one to deep right-center. It’ll tie the game, no doubt. Kapler has to go a long way to make the catch, then fires a no-look throw back toward the infield. It sails over the cutoff man, Bellhorn, and Cabrera runs over from second to corral it. He must look up to check the runner, or maybe he nonchalants it, figuring the play’s over, because the ball knocks off his glove, and he kicks it—literally kicks it— toward first base. On a real field, the grass stops the ball, but since we’re in the Homerdome, it rolls away across the carpet, and by the time Cabrera chases it down and throws home, Lew Ford’s sliding in safely, and we’re down 4–3. Welcome to the Red Sox.

Joe Nathan gives us an opening in the ninth, hitting Bellhorn, but we don’t bother to bunt him over (hey, why change now). Cabrera strikes out, lunging. Manny hits into an easy 6-4-3 turf job, and we lose a carbon copy of last night’s game, wasting another quality start.

On The Simpsons, Comic Book Guy—a true loser—has a Red Sox pennant hanging in his shop. I channel him now: worst weekend ever.

August 2nd

When I entered in this diary on July 2nd, we’d just been swept out of the Bronx and had fallen eight and a half games back in the AL East. Now, a month later, we’re nine and a half behind the Yankees, who continue on cruise control. The Yanks don’t have much in the way of pitching, but it doesn’t seem to matter; they simply whale the tar out of almost every team they go against. The Red Sox are one of the rare exceptions, but they can afford to ignore us, at least for the time being. Who knows, they may not have to worry about us even in October. For the first time this season one team—it’s the Oakland Athletics—seems to have a solid hold on the wild card.[31]

We’ve lost both of the games we’ve played since the big Garciaparra trade, but I actually don’t feel too badly about that, even though both were of the tooth-rattling one-run variety. For one thing, both of our new players contributed to the offensive effort (okay, okay, so Cabrera—who hit a home run in his first Red Sox at-bat —also cost us yesterday’s game with an error in the bottom of the eighth). For another, the Twins are very good this year, and I’d expect them to take two out of three in their house, just as I’d expect us to take two out of three from them in ours.

But now we finish the year’s longest road-trip playing teams that are either sub-.500 or close to .500, and here I agree with the conventional wisdom: this is probably the season’s last decisive turning-point, and I’ll be watching these games very, very closely. For the next two weeks it’s not going to do to just play .500 baseball on the road. I’m hoping we can win eight of the next dozen, and from now until the middle of the month, I suspect this diary will be hearing from me often.

August 3rd

Mark Bellhorn goes on the DL with a thumb fracture after taking that pitch on the hand, joining Pokey, meaning Francona has more platooning to do. The press is on him about the logjam at first. How is he going to keep all of his players happy? I may not have much confidence in Francona, but at least he has the right answer: “That’s not what we’re here to do.”

Last night Wake won on his birthday, a quiet indoor affair with less than 10,000 guests. For tonight’s game with the D-Rays Francona pencils in the most alien infield yet: Youk at third, Cabrera at short, Bill Mueller at second and Mientkiewicz at first. Dave Roberts starts in right for only the fourth time in his life, and leads off, followed by Cabrera and Johnny. The new speed lineup does nothing, but Tek hits a two-run shot and Bill Mueller knocks in three more from the six-spot. Schilling (a new guy himself, not so long ago) goes the distance, but the post-trade face of the Sox is just weird.

August 4th

I didn’t know how brave I was, asking the Red Sox to win eight of their next twelve, until Jayme Parker (looking cool and beautiful this morning in off-the-shoulder black) tells me that the Sox haven’t won back- to-back road games since June. But they managed the trick last night, and now, instead of needing to win eight out of twelve, they only (only!) need to win six out of their next ten. That means playing .600 ball instead of .666, if you’re of a statistical bent.

Although I haven’t kept an exact count (“You could look it up,” I hear Ole Case whispering), I’d guess we’ve got in the neighborhood of fifty-five games left to play. Eleven of them are with the formerly hapless Devil Rays, and this makes me happy, because the D-Rays, after running off a gaudy string of wins (almost entirely against National League teams) before the All-Star break, seem to be subsiding into their former state of haplessness, and fast. Manager Lou Piniella rode his horses hard during the streak (“ran their dung to water,” my wife would say), and now they seem punchless and reeling. Tampa Bay management has done its part to destroy team morale by trading D-Rays’ ace and chief workhorse Victor Zambrano to the contending Mets. All of which makes me sorry for them, but not too sorry to take pleasure in Tim Wakefield’s win two nights ago and Curt Schilling’s complete-game victory last night. Not too sorry to hope that Bronson Arroyo can complete the sweep tonight, either, although I doubt the Rays will let that happen. They ain’t quite that hapless.

SK: Two in a row! For the first time since June! Schill gets the complete-game win! Manny crashes into the left-field wall! Plays dead! Arises and hugs the reincarnation of the Lizard King! Film at 11!

Go, you old Red Sox! Lou Piniella blew his hosses out in June and July, and we get to ride them spavined old nags eleven more times before the end of the season! I’m hoping (praying, actually) that we can take six of the next ten, to make it eight out of twelve after putting the Twins in our rearview mirror. GO, YOU OLD RED SOX!

SO: After the June Swoon and the July Drive-By, I’m a little leery. Who are these guys anyway? I was just getting used to Ricky Gutierrez at short and here comes Cabrera. I almost feel bad for Francona, having to glue together a lineup from these bits and pieces. Thank God for the Devil Rays. But eventually we’re going to have to beat the Twins. And the Angels. And the White Sox.

SK: Francona’s a dork. And that’s true, but first we’re gonna see the Tigers, who are currently 50-56. I’d like to finish these six games at 4-2 and would LOVE to be 5-1. Wouldn’t it be great to get like fourteen or fifteen games over .500?

SO: The Tigers have been revitalized of late. Dmitri Young’s back from that broken leg, and their young pitchers have turned in some hellacious games, so we better be ready for a scrap. Let’s not look past tonight, though. Francona may not know it, but they all count the same.

SK: I just went to check the game. When I sat down to write this e-mail, everything was okay; we had a three-run lead and Arroyo was cruising. Now we’re down 5–4, thanks to a Youkilis error (more damn errors) and a Toby Hall granny.

“Stewart and Stephen,” said the old psychic dwarf-lady, “your nightmare continues.”

SO: And now Dave Roberts just got pegged at home in the ninth with NOBODY OUT, and we lose by a run. Congratulations, Dave, you made the Hall of Sveum on your first try.