Knuckle Up.

Don't even stop to contemplate where the Red Sox would be without Tim Wakefield. (Okay, fine, here's my thought: 3rd place, but only because I think Clay Buchholz is actually ready.) Just be thankfully he's still around, and when he's been good, has been amazing. As Prospectus points out, this team is freakishly overperforming against its rotation. Three key reasons: generally excellent offense, best bullpen in the majors, and on those days no one is hitting, Tim Wakefield.



Sadly, all the headlines on the Worldwide Leader in Entertainment and sometimes Sports, and various other sites, were about that much younger man looking much older, Zombie David Ortiz. Swinging at bad junk in the dirt, missing Zombie B.J. Ryan's 86 mph fastball, mauling and decapitating Kevin Millar (then discovering to his disappointment no grey matter there, just some kind of Frito dip), the signs of decay and undeadness have not faded. Does Dave Magadan still work for the Red Sox? Are we really going to have to bullshit with Washington as they ask for Buchholz in exchange for Nick Johnson? Is Chuck LaMar the new shadow GM of the Nationals? Self-esteem or not, doesn't keeping Papi in the 3 slot put pressure on him he isn't exactly up for right now?



Sigh. Even after a nice win, I got me some questions. Youk's back, anyway. Keep him away from Ortiz during his feeding hours.

(Thanks to LOLJocks for the Ortiz as Fred Sanford pic.)

Tee-hee-hee.

I love this picture. Reasons:

a) The contrast between Pedroia and Lyle Overbay, who looks 9' 8", 300 lbs, reminds you again that Dustin would have no right to be a professional [any sport other than baseball] player. I love this game.

b) The contrast between the infuriated Overbay, called out at 2nd (incorrectly), and Pedroia, who put on the "tag" and knew he wasn't out, smiling. It's an imperfect game. Gotta take joy in when you get away with one.

c) The mischevious grin. Reminds me of this dude.

One excellent Wakefield start was a no-doubter, but between the comeback game in the nightcap to the semi-disasterous Papelbon save where the "play" was the difference between tying runs on 2nd and 3rd, no outs, and runner on 3rd, one out, the other two wins were very much questionable outs. We played our way out of one this series, got away with another, and those wins are the stuff winning teams are made of.

Now, 1 game out from a still-struggling Tampa Bay (albeit, one going home), we have a bizarro repetition of last week. Yet, six games with Tampa and Toronto, this time on the road. It's going to be a tough week full of familiar matchups, starting with the pitch count takers' nightmare (Matsuzaka-Kazmir) and the mismatch-that-rarely-is (Beckett-Sonnastine), and it might not mean much as far as making the playoffs matters, actually. But as far as proving this team playoff ready, this is everything.

Oh, that and taking the AL East again and thus earning the right to concuss the already bloodied-up AL Central winner to be.

Let's go get it.

GAME THIRTY: With apologies to Harburg and Gorney

They used to tell me we were powerful
And I watched us pile up scores
Where there were runners on, we ran them off
Five, six, seven, or more
They used to tell me we could hit
Wins and pennants had came
Why should we scrap for four runs in five whole fucking games?

Once scoreboards ran out of numbers
Under Fenway nights, or sun
They say it’ll get better in summer, but,
Brother, can you spare a run?

Once we laid more pipe than plumbers
So many ways to get it done
Now, who will save poor Timmy Wakefield?
Brother, can you spare a run?

GAME TWENTY-NINE: Lower the mound! Lower the mound!

Winning's good, winning walk-off style is fun, but the offense is bothering me, and quick solutions always work. You know what to do.

Wakefield on the mound tonight. I'm guessing it might be good to score, um, three runs, at least.

GAME TWENTY-EIGHT: Classic 1968/1881 baseball game/ show-down.

Luckily for the Sox, nobody could for Doc Halliday, Deadly Cy Young Doctor of the North. And wow, has his team continually fucked him. As badly as Bob Costas' "moderation" fucked Will Leitch. Four straight complete games for Roy Halliday (!), three losses (!?!&$@$#). His ERA is 3.26. His record is 2-4. Remember this the next time you hear an idiotic announcer talk about a pitcher's will to win: Halliday could have pitched a 12-inning complete game and still have lost.

(Although by that point, someone I do not trust in close games would have probably been on the mound, so maybe Roy should've just shut the Sox down another inning and then three more after that. Whaddaya, Doc, a pussy?)



Two runs in three games is disturbing no matter the high quality of starting pitching the Red Sox may be facing (wait, did I just call Edwin Jackson a quality starting pitcher?), but all the same, yesterday's game was taut, fun, brief (2 hours, 18 minutes) and ultimately fulfilling.

Jon Lester had his customary bunch of walks; he was also almost unhittable, and got through 8 innings under 100 pitches. Of course, Lester being Lester, you watched wondering if it was going to fall apart any minute, particularly feeling the pressure of Halliday's dominance continue (the first time in the game two base runners were on in the same inning was, yes, the 9th inning). Papelbon had a right to his relief after the amazing diving stop Pedroia made to save the game, and stop Troy Glaus from scoring on Vernon Wells' hot shot (almost) through the hole, a dive reminiscent of the one Dustin saved Clay Bucholz's no-hitter with.



And then, of course, Halliday proved mortal, and with his first walk of the day, a Manny Ramirez single to center that would have been a shallow fly-out if Wells wasn't practically playing on the triangle, and Youkilis' liner through the middle, his chance to win passed away. "This is funny," he remarked, looking at his boots lying at his bed. Good game, Doc. Not looking forward to the next time.

Designated...for death!

One of the few/only bright spots of a dispiriting three game sweep to Matt Stairs and a buncha psuedo-Canadians was this: Kyle Snyder's Sox career is as good as over. Because he's been designated for assignment. And we all know what that actually means:



Poor Kyle. He wasn't even good enough to be assigned for death by Mortal Kombat II. Or good enough for me to spend more than two minutes in MS Paint.

Some teams just come out more ready than others out of Spring Training, and let's just say we're not roaring out of the gate this year, partially because of the travel. One below .500 on a (gasp) seven game road trip (that also included five exhibition games) isn't good, but it isn't atrocious either. Bats are always the last thing to get going, you know, unless your bats are facing Kyle Snyder or Manny Delcarmen. Let's just go home now. And rather than think of what a scary team Detroit still might be when they wake up, think of this:



Awww.