Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Whisper To A Scream

Well now. After Friday night's disappointment, the weekend series with the Yankees turned into a mirror image of last weekend's fiasco in the Bronx, with the Red Sox taking a lead pipe to the Yanks on Saturday and Sunday. Thanks to my lovely, charming and way-cool cousin, I took in Saturday's game from the bleachers.

Last night the Red Sox clinched a wildcard berth for the post-season. October baseball - and are there two more beautiful words in the English language? - will be played in New England.

Johnny Damon: This could be a special year. We felt like last year's team was the best around and we feel like this team is better. Hopefully, we can bring a championship to Boston.

Manny Ramirez: We haven't accomplished nothing yet. We're going to take it to another level now. . . . I think this is the year.

Keith Foulke: The camaraderie is what pulled us through a lot of adversity, and it's going to take us to the promised land.

Curt Schilling: We spent four months being a team of - what was it? - frauds. But I think we all expected at some point to be in this position.

So what does the future hold? The usual menu for the post-season Red Sox - rising expectations serve with crushing heartbreak? Or something else?
This much you should understand: No one wants a piece of these Sox in the playoffs. "People talk about the Red Sox having to face [Johan] Santana twice in the playoffs?" one scout said with a snort, referring to a possible first-round matchup between the Sox and Minnesota. "How about the Twins having to face Schilling twice? Good luck to them."

Who can tell? Portents abound: there is a prophet patrolling center field and a midget gamboling in the clubhouse. These are strange times for Red Sox Nation. Perhaps the End Times.
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