GAME THIRTY SIX: @#*#$@)(#*@#*(@ with your @#(@(ing *(@@#*.

I'd never seen someone blow a save without being the pitcher, but I can definitively say I have now. Julio Lugo did it in the midst of the luckiest come-from-behind game imaginable:

Accidental check swing bunt single.
Bobble on possible double play ball by Julio Lugo.
Sacrifice bunt runners to second and third.
Groundball to second plates one runner, advances other to third.
Broken bat single gets over a leaping Lugo. (No, not even Ozzie Smith with the wings of a bat could have caught this ball, but I'm just noting detail.) End of game. (Lugo, B, 1.)

Let's recap: That's one semi-genuine hit, and two fucking runs, ruining what would have been a great come from behind game in which the Sox dug out of a 4 run deficit, then a 3 run deficit. Bad luck is a part of baseball. Bad defense is a substantial part of Julio Lugo. Drinks on the house if I don't down every bottle first. No chasers, no ice. Let it BURN.

GAME EIGHTY FIVE- EIGHTY SEVEN: Roar.

One beatdown, one extra-innings squeaker, one near comeback on a Daisuke off-day, blah blah blah, All-Star break. Sox barely hold onto best lead in division, too hot in New York (106 heat index tomorrow) to talk blah blah getting swept at home, Tigers are good, Andrew Miller can only throw fastball but fastball all he need blah blah blah early lunch.