(With much love and credit to LOL Jocks)
As GHABBY~! said, today is a day of healing for us here at MH. Rather than expand on what FMRA said earlier (and so eloquently, I might add), I figured I’d make a few of the images from last night’s game somewhat less painful for our die-hard readers. Enjoy:
(all images courtesy of boston.com)
So if in April someone had told you that the Red Sox would trade Manny Ramirez for a pasty Canuck, Mike Lowell would completely fuck his hip up just in time for the playoffs, Jason Varitek wouldn’t be able to catch up to the last pitch thrown by Henry Rowengartner in Rookie of the Year, and Mike Mussina would have a better season than Josh Beckett, you’d pretty much start tying a noose, right? Well the aforementioned team is now one win away from their 3rd World Series appearance in 5 years.
Soak it all in, folks. And then come back here at 8:00 PM for the much-anticipated, highly-demanded Game 7 Live Blog! HzMLS, GHABBY~!, myself, and whomever else wants to join in the fun will be bringing you action, humor, and sex jokes. Also, we’ll be sure to keep you informed on which sitcom TBS decides to air instead of the game.
LET’S DO THIS.
Or, more accurately, 9 = 8 2/3 = 8. If nine men play eight and two-thirds innings, they will score eight runs because the unquestioned AL Manager of the Year will somehow make some incredibly poor bullpen usage decisions.
AND THAT IS WHY WE DON’T LEAVE GAMES EARLY, PEOPLE.
So hey, how’ve you all been? You may have noticed my absence from these parts over the past few weeks (except when pressing Timlin news overrode all other considerations). The combination of the second-busiest time of year for tax people plus attending all the Sox playoff games = chaos in my life schedule. (I know, I know — boo fucking hoo.) But historic comebacks call for heroic efforts to sneakily write up a post at lunchtime….
Before I go on with this, I have to give props to Bill Simmons, who (unfortunately for me) already wrote quite a bit of what I was planning to write. It’s a good read, so go check it out, and come back here when you’re done. I’ll wait.
/plays spies
/plays spies
/collects save
So I’m a weekend plan season ticket holder, which means that I am not guaranteed playoff tickets, and am definitely not guaranteed my regular seats if I do get playoff tickets. The Sox ticket office (bless their hearts) have never failed to get us W-planners into the playoff mix, but I do get shunted out to the bleachers for the playoffs. (Which is fine by me — it’s cheaper, it’s fun, and — most importantly — it’s inside the park.) Last night, however, thanks to the Pimpette, I had a chance to take in the game from the left-field roof seats.
Did I mention that I’m a wee bit afraid of heights? Well anyhow, the seats provided me with a clear, unobstructed view of the arc of Bossman Junior Upton’s high arcing fly that plopped itself (literally) almost to a standstill on the upper surface of the Green Monster.
Oh crap. Here we go again.
Truth be told, I didn’t think Mothra pitched that poorly. He was doing what he should be doing: challenging hitters, trying to stay ahead of them with fastballs, and setting them off for offspeed out pitches. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a lot of cut on his cutter, and it looked like a lot of the TB hitters were sitting on the fastball, of which he threw some pretty poor ones. And poor pitches have tended to end up in the seats in this series.
I noticed something different in this game, though — the real fans were back. Yes, we had absolutely nothing to cheer about for six long innings… but unlike the previous two games, the life had not been totally sucked out of the park by the early Tampa leads. Yes, people were leaving in the 6th and 7th — especially after Blow Job Upton’s 2-run double in the 7th. (By the way, I totally called the double steal, and have witnesses to prove it — call me, Seattle! My managerial skills are still available!) But there were a hell of a lot fewer empty seats than I would have expected. And the roar when Papelbon came in was Old Skool. Sure, he didn’t quite get the job done the way we had hoped, but he did buckle down and get Longoria to GIDP, saving a little face. Or so we thought.
I won’t lie to you — I thought the game was over. You don’t rationally expect a 7-run comeback against a team that has bitchslapped you for 24 straight innings. “Just score a run,” I said to no one in particular. “Go out fighting. That’s all I ask.” But what you don’t do is LEAVE, as so many people did in these games. If it’s your team, you stay. If you go grab your 2004 Playoff Run DVD set, check out the tail end of the 19-8 game. You may see me out there in the bleachers, surrounded by acres of empty seats. BECAUSE I STAY. That’s what you do as a fan. You support. I left before the final out once — last year, game 2 of the ALCS, when Cleveland scored 7 runs in the top of the 11th. And that was special circumstances, because it was like 1:30 in the freaking morning and my friend and I both had to work early, and it clearly was all over at that point. And I STILL feel a little guilty about leaving early. But I digress. The point is, if you’re leaving when “your team” is down 7-0, good. Stay away. We don’t need you. Teams don’t need fans who are only there for them when they’re up 17-1. You know what you leaving-people are? You’re Paris Hilton. You’re nothing but pathetic leeches sucking off the teat of success, because it makes you feel better about yourself. That goes for you, too, you 90% of Tropicana Field with your freaking cowbell crap. For the 4,000 or so real Rays fans who kept their season tickets when their team was racking up 90 losses a year — I know how you feel, and feel bad for you. For the cowbell crowd: fuck you, you deserve this. And for the Fenway Non-Faithful: stay out and go cheer for the Celtics, whom you’ve presumably just discovered still play in this town.
But I digress. Lowrie’s nice leadoff double in the 7th gave me hope that we’d get that run that I wanted. Black Holeitek should’ve been bunting, but at least managed to avoid lining out directly to the shortstop standing in front of Lowrie for the DP. (Hey captain — maybe you should focus more on bat speed, and less on inserting your bat into the hired help, eh?) Kotsay — the real hope I had for a run-scoring hit — didn’t get the job done, either. (More on Kotsay later.)
Which brought up Covelli L. Crisp. I’ve argued all year that giving away Coco for pennies on the dollar and handing the CF job to Jacoby Ellsbury would be a mistake, because you should NEVER give away talent, especially if doing so means committing to an untested young player. Not to say “I told you so” or anything, but I’d just like to point out that Ellsbury is 0-462 in the playoffs, and Coco Crisp has now had two of the five most important at-bats in the Sox’s 2008 playoffs. Here, he didn’t do anything spectacular. He didn’t even drive in the run. He just did what he is paid to do — he fought for a single, which allowed a legitimate MVP candidate to bat with runners on base. The Little Motor Scooter did his part — you knew he would — driving in the first run of the game. And so my wish was fulfilled. We had our run. They went down fighting.
Because Papi was going to strike out, or ground into the shift. He’s not well, that’s just the facts, and the inning’s over. Hey, there’s the bad swing again. Sigh. I miss the old Big Papi. You know Manny would have…
(crack)
It’s very hard to judge the flight of a ball that’s going away from you. Especially from the roof. So when Ortiz hit what I assumed to be a well-hit but routine fly ball into right field, my first instinct was to watch Gabe Gross, the right fielder. Hey, maybe he botches the ball or something. You never know.
Gross took three long strides…. and stopped dead in his tracks.
The ball, of course, was on its way to landing about 30 rows back in the right field grandstands. Gross could see that. I couldn’t. But he told me. Oh yes… he told me.
Pandemonium. The real fans! Back! Good riddance to the early-leavers!
That Dan Wheeler got a tough out out of Youkilis was of no concern — this was, against all odds, kind of a game again. The crowd was back into it, Papelbon had a dominant K-8-K inning against the middle of the order, and there was some energy left in the Red Sox season.
Now the Rays are still clearly in commmand, of course. They have their closer in the game, and two power lefties in J.P. Licks Howell and David Price waiting in the wings. And they only need six outs.
But….
Jason Bay walks on four pitches. Four pitches that weren’t particularly close. And up on the roof, one Pimp is thinking — “I know this. I’ve seen this before. This is how we used to do it.” And all 4,000 of the true Rays fans are thinking, “Uh oh. Don’t give them an inch.” Like we always used to. Because you know what happens when you give a surging team the slightest of opportunities.
(crack)
J.D. Poo DREW knocks a 3-wood deep into the right field rough, that’s what. Suddenly, it’s a 7-6 game, and the “only six outs” has become “six long, tense outs” for the Rays. Two of them came quickly: Jed Lowrie took a good hack at the second pitch he saw from Wheeler, but got under it and flied to left, and Sean “Darling Of the EEI Fucktard Callers” Casey got through all of four pitches this time before striking out. (Heard from the Pimp immediately afterwards: “Varitek could have done that…”) So with two outs, Wheeler faced Mark Kotsay.
Kotsay, to me, is the epitome of the Sox’s offense in this series. If you haven’t been watching the game closely, you may not realize that Kotsay has been tatooing the ball almost every time he’s up. He’s getting great swings and making good contact. And every time… it’s right at someone, or — in the case of the clinching ALDS game — someone (Mark Teixeira) makes an “oh snap no he di’int” play on him. So despite looking like the second coming of Ted Williams at the plate, he was only hitting .225 or so for the playoffs. And that’s been the Sox in a nutshell: it’s not a problem with effort, or with ability, it’s just that everything they did just somehow seemed to not work. Hits coming too late, good swings negated by good defense, or what have you — the breaks were just totally absent from the offense.
Until they got the biggest break(s) so far this season: Dan Wheeler’s 87 MPH fastballs. Kotsay took two balls, then tatooed (yet again) a ball into center field. But this time, Bossman Jr. didn’t get it. He got a glove on it — but it bounced off, and Kotsay stood at second base with a double (that easily could have been an error on Upton, had the official scorer been in a less charitable mood). And that’s when Coco went to work. In an epic, 10-pitch at bat, Coco fouled off fastball after fastball, wearing down Wheeler and biding his time until he left one in the zone. Which, of course, he did. We all remember this script, don’t we, Sox fans? That Coco was thrown out trying to stretch the single into a double was irrelevant — it was a good, aggressive baserunning play, and the important run scored. Let’s raise a glass for Coco Crisp, shall we? Abandoned by the fanbase for pretty-boy Jacoby, Coco could have pitched a Jay Payton-like hissyfit and made himself a pest. But he didn’t. He accepted his role with class and character, and contributed where he could. And for that, he has been rewarded. Loyce, you raised a good kid.
I thought, with the off day coming, that we’d see Paps for an unprecedented-in-recent-history third inning, but Terry Francona chose to go with Justin Masterson instead. Although he got ahead of the indispensible President Jason Bartlett 0-2, he gave up a solid single. Although he got behind Akinori Iwamura 2-1, he managed to get him to pop to left. Bossjob Jobster drew the inevitable 5-pitch walk. (It seems like untimely walks are now a hallmark of Masterson relief appearances…) Crap. To come back this far, only to have to face Carlos Pena and Evan Longoria with the go-ahead runs on base….
(crack)
OH MY GOD! THAT’S 2006 CARLOS PENA’S MUSIC!!!!! Pena, the pride of Haverhill, tapped weakly to second for the inning ending double play, kneed Longoria in the crotch, and ripped off his Rays jersey to reveal his old Red Sox uniform, whereupon he did Wonder Twin Powers with Papi and took the form of a bucket of victory Gatorade. (Note: Some of that may not be true.) Inning over. (I think I actually saw Masterson display some emotion, too. Maybe Papelbon is rubbing off on him.)
I think you know the rest of the story. Out, out, Longoria throws the ball away, walk, J.D. No-Longer-Poo, Dirty Water.
Wow.
Statistically, the odds are still pretty good that the Sox will get crushed 8-0 by Jamie Shields on Saturday night. But right now… I’m just going to enjoy this feeling for a day.
And you never know. That’s why they play all nine innings.
I…just…wow. I am still speechless. I mean, anyone who watched that entire game last night…can you believe what you saw? Even 12 or so hours later..I still CANNOT BELIEVE IT! And I’m going to go on the record with this – that was the best baseball game I have ever seen. It beat out Game 4 2004 ALCS. It beat out (sad to say, but it was a great game) Game 7 2003 ALCS. And it beat out Game 7 2001 World Series. I mean, how over was that game before we realized that it WASN’T over? Well…here.
This is a “win-probability” graph. Note the 3rd through 7th innings. I mean, this game WAS OVER. Anyone who went to bed or God forbid left the game (hi, dubbschism!) can point to this and at least justify it slightly.
And that’s the other thing…the stories. The things I’ll remember. The Live Blog. Or the “this game blows so much let’s talk about our favorite sex positions instead” segment. And people bailing, people going to bed. And the announcers previewing a Rays/Phillies World Series. And thanking their crew for a job well done in the ALCS. Or getting a message telling me that dubbscism and the Ejected Fan left the game in the 7th. And getting another message saying that dubb was just sitting on his couch, in a daze, muttering to himself “I can’t believe we left this game.” There was my buddy’s Facebook status saying he was going to enjoy watching the Rays celebrate on the field (Yankee fan). Then me texting him and telling him it was the best status ever. Then him calling me (drunk) and telling me to fuck off. Or me jumping around, screaming at the top of my lungs, clapping, fist pumping frantically, convinced my neighbors were going to call the cops on me. Or jennycupcakes calling me just before 1 AM, saying she went to bed and was awakened by car horns and people rioting in the streets outside her apartment in Boston. What was even funnier was me trying to explain to her what happened…it sounded something like this: “Ortiz! And the home run and then BAM! Papelbon! Awesome! And then Drew, with the homer and then Coco! And Masterson double play! And then Longoria, WHOOPS! And then Drew again! And CRAZY!!”
And now we go back to Tampa, with all the momentum in the world, but knowing the only person who can keep it going is Josh Beckett. Bottom line – if he is 100% healthy, they have a tremendous shot to do this. If he’s not, well, they never really had a chance anyway. But after last night, I’m not ready to give up…are you?
I’ll leave you with this. A few hand-selected postings on a Yankee message board which I will not name. Of course, they were rooting for the Sox to lose. I time-stamped them so everyone can enjoy:
9:11:16 PM: This is kind of fun. So far.
9:34:33 PM: Go Rays.
9:45:14 PM: How come no one else could do this to the Sawks? They’ve seemed so ripe for it all year, and yet…?
10:54:58 PM: The most important thing is now we don’t have to hear about a Red Sox dynasty.
11:08:28 PM: Hey Balfour, stop dicking around.
11:11:24 PM: Well, THAT’S not good. Were we celebrating early?
11:20:36 PM: Between Wheeler and David Price, the Rays should be able to wrap this thing up.
11:33:47 PM: Holy shit they’re actually going to come back. Screw you guys for jinxing it.
11:35:01 PM: I hate the Red Sox so much right now.
11:35:05 PM: This is awful awful bullshit.
11:47:52 PM: Well, that sucked.
11:50:58 PM: Its OK to panic now. I hate everything.
12:19:48 AM: I hate baseball.
1:41:28 AM: un-fucking-believable
10:43:59 AM: I woke up this morning with the hope that what happened last night, did not happen. I am sick of what happened, I just can’t get over it.
You know those stupid mullet-hawks that have been all the rage among Tampa players and fans? Little has been said about the source of that product-of-a-low-sperm-count-buttfuck hairstyle, but I, your intrepid reporter, have cracked the case, and now present you with the inspiration behind the worst hair development since Flock of Seagulls was poisoning the radio airwaves:
The two men you see above are Brian Yandrisovitz and Jerome Saganovich, better known as Brian Knobbs and Jerry Sags, who comprised the wrestling tag team “The Nasty Boys.”
You see, because Tampa is a low-rent joke of a town, Brian “Knobbs” serves as their unofficial mascot, sitting fourth row at every Rays game when he’s not babysitting the Hogan children (and we all know how well they turned out). Yes, the best celebrity that Tampa can muster is a fourth-rate wrestler who happens to be friends with Hulk Hogan, clinging to a moronic haircut in an effort to get independent wrestling bookings at the age of 44. So Tampa’s got that going for them.
But what made Brian Yandrisovitz famous in the first place? A resident of Allentown, Pennsylvania, the portly Yandrosivitz moved to Minnesota after high school to be trained by aging AWA promoter Verne Gagne. Yandrosivitz and high school friend Saganovich formed a tag team called “The Nasty Boys,” and adopted the Knobbs and Sags monikers. Due to the glory of ESPN Classic, I’ve been able to recently view the early career of the Nastys, and suffice to say, they sucked immensely. Sporting oversized cutoff T-Shirts with Jackson Pollock-esque stains, the Nastys weren’t especially solid technically, nor were they athletic enough to compete with the Midnight Rockers or the Rock N’ Roll Express, who were the top teams in the AWA at the time. Through their AWA tenure, the Nastys were Just Another Tag Team, not sticking out in any particular way. In fact, the only thing that made the Nastys stick out was their “Pit City” maneuver, in which one Nasty Boy would rub an opponent’s face into the exposed armpit of the other Nasty Boy. Classy.
Knobbs and Sags moved on to the dying Florida Championship Wrestling territory, developing a brawling style that helped them gain two tag team championships. They then moved on to World Championship Wrestling, where they feuded with the athletically superior Steiner Brothers, unable to wrest the United States Tag Team titles from them. Over time, the Nastys developed a reputation for being solid “brawlers” who worked “stiff,” which is to say that, rather than pulling their punches and strikes, the Nastys would actually hit their opponents very hard. Wrestler Mick Foley noted that the Nastys were “sloppy as hell and more than a little dangerous.”
From WCW, the Nastys moved onto the WWF, where they would most earn my personal ire under the managership of Jimmy Hart, the most annoying man on the planet. I have always been a fan of technically sound tag teams like the Hart Foundation and the British Bulldogs, as well as physically dominant teams like the Legion of Doom. Now here came a team of fat, out of shape heels with no discernable talent and dumb haircuts. So it was mentally traumatic to the young GHABB,Y when the Nastys defeated the Hart Foundation at Wrestlemania VII, cheating by bashing in Jim Neidhart’s skull with a motorcycle helmet behind the referee’s back. This outcome absolutely ruined an otherwise fun Wrestlemania for me, and I pouted for weeks that the bad guys had beaten my Hart Foundation.
Retribution came at Summerslam 1991, to this day my single favorite wrestling event in history. The Macho Man married Miss Elizabeth, Virgil won the Million Dollar Belt, Hulk Hogan and the Ultimate Warrior ended the Iraq War, the Mountie was forced to go to jail, and Bret Hart beat Mr. Perfect in the best wrestling match I’ve ever seen. But the cherry on the Awesome Cake was the Legion of Doom, owners of spiked shoulder pads and kickass face paint, winning the Tag Team titles from the dastardly Nasty Boys in a Street Fight.
From there, the Nastys would languish in both the WWF and WCW, feuding with such middling tag teams as Money Incorporated, the Blue Bloods and Pretty Wonderful. The Nastys’ nadir came at Fall Brawl 1995, where they lost to the American Males, who had a male stripper gimmick and dressed like this:
Outside of the ring, the Nastys were just as big a pair of douchebags as they came off on TV. They once jumped Ken Shamrock from behind after harassing a female friend of his at a nightclub. They turned a fake wrestling match against Scott Hall and Kevin Nash into a shoot, or a real fight, during a 1997 television taping. And worst of all, they once fought Ric Flair, the greatest human being currently walking the earth, in a Manhattan night club. Knobbs has been recently seen trying to soak up the last of his fifteen minutes of fame by making random appearances on “Hogan Knows Best” and at Tampa area sporting events, playing a bumbling, irresponsible goof in a constant state of arrested development. Not a huge stretch.
So when you watch tonight’s Sox game and see Rays and fans alike sporting clownish mullet-hawks, remember where they came from: a mediocre, out-of-shape wrestler named Yandrisovitz that rubbed people’s faces into his armpit, lost matches to male strippers, and fought Ric Flair in a nightclub. Ray Hawk indeed.
When I was a kid, we used to have a dog. He was a cocker spaniel, and from the minute we got him, my family had no fucking clue what to do with the thing. He was, in short, a spaz of the highest order. He constantly ran around at full speed, and never once calmed the fuck down long enough for you to pat him. He knocked things over in the house constantly, and pissed and shit everywhere. He would bark at all hours of the night, for no apparent reason. And yet still, because he was my first dog, I loved that animal, and was genuinely saddened when Dad told me that he was sent off to a farm where he could run around as much as he pleased, without fear of knocking over vases of scratching up the couch.
Not actually my dog
I bring up that story because, with the same principle, I’m now choosing to believe that the Red Sox were sent to the same farm after last Monday’s win over the Angels. Their season ended with Jed Lowrie’s single and a dramatic win! Now, on the happy farm, they can run around with other baseball teams as much as they please, without fear of incurring more injury or embarrassing themselves publicly. There, David Ortiz can finally have the wrist surgery he so badly needs, and Tim Wakefield can retire with dignity. On the farm, Josh Beckett is still one of the clutch playoff pitchers of our generation, and Jon Lester is still unhittable at Fenway Park. It’s a nice farm, where they grow all sorts of vegetables and milk cows. And my dog gets to chase the Red Sox around, even stopping once in a while to finally let someone pet him.
Now, some of you may try to tell me about this phantom “ALCS” against some team called the “Rays,” but to admit that is to admit that my Dad didn’t necessarily send my dog to a blissful farm, and I’m just not psychologically ready to admit that. Meanwhile, I’m readying myself for “the World Series of Dude’s Names,” between the Phils and the Rays. I can’t wait to see Jay Leno interview people named Ray and Phil and ask them who they’re rooting for! I wonder if people named Ray Phillips or Phillip Ray will get in for free! It’s fun to watch baseball!
Sure, the Sox may come back from 3-1 down, like they did in last year’s ALCS. That’s a possibility. But after watching them mail in two straight home games against a hungry Rays team, I’m not holding out a ton of hope. Call me a pessimist, call me a naysayer, call me a shitter in your bowl of Hope flavored Ice Cream. All I know is that, when I think of the fate of this year’s Red Sox team, the first thing that pops into mind is a happy farm, where Jason Varitek gets to run around with my old cocker spaniel.
Dusk? Twilight?
We’ll go with dusk.
So beings the first of three consecutive playoff games at Fenway, with newly-appointed ace Jon Lester on the hill. He will be opposed by Matt Garza, and I feel safe in saying that if you like home runs, re-watch a tape of Game 2. These pitchers are no slouches, and I think we’re in for a duel. Lineups are already out, and two notable changes – one sure to make FMRA unhappy, and the other makes me quite giddy. First, no Jed Lowrie. Alex Cora gets the nod tonight, with Tito noting that a majority of his success (if that’s what you want to call it) comes against right-handed power pitchers. The second change is that THE WOONSOCKET ROCKET ROCCO BALDELLI gets his first start of the ALCS this evening, batting 8th for the TBR’s (not to be confused with PBR).
Frivolous prediction of the night: In a scene similar to last night’s Phillies/Dodgers game, benches empty in the middle of an inning and a scuffle ensues. David Aardsma throws the first punch and Ben Zobrist throws the last. Baseball pundits will ponder the meaning of this for years.
Serious prediction of the night: Jon Lester comes back down to earth a bit, giving up 4 runs in 6 innings. But the Sox get to the Rays bullpen for some late runs and take this one 8-5. Not pictured: Mike Timlin.
So I guess that’s it! Enjoy the g–excuse me?
It’s missing what?
…..fuck.
FINE.
Remember this? I’m betting that we see some fireworks in this series – let’s not forget that these two teams hate each other. Emotions are already going to be running high because it’s playoff time. If someone gets hit, well, watch out. I can totally see Coco now, throwing haymakers, tossing up gang signs and shouting out THUG LIFE! just before Dioner Navarro knocks him into next week.
Onto the 2nd part of the ALCS preview. Hope everyone enjoyed part 1 – the pitching section is going to be a bit expanded here with four starters going in this series as opposed to three. Let’s get it.
BENCH
Kevin Cash, David Ross, Sean Casey, Gil Velázquez, Coco Crisp and Mark Kotsay vs. Michel Hernández, Willy Aybar, Ben Zobrist, Gabe Gross, Eric Hinske and Fernando Pérez
You’ll probably be seeing Kotsay and Gabe Disgusting in the lineup more often than on the bench, rotating with Cora and Baldelli respectively. And I must ask…WHAT ABOUT THE HINSKE DRAMA? He comes back after being abandoned by his team, replaced with a younger, whiter player. Will he be greeted by his teammates? Booed by the faithful? I think this is potentially the biggest former-Sox-player matchup that Boston could face in the playoffs….
….what?
….oh…right.
Well, I see the benches as about even, although if Willy Aybar can throw a hissy fit like Erick Aybar, well then that changes everything.
Edge: EVEN
STARTERS – GAME 1
Daisuke Matsuzaka vs. James Shields
Who else is nervous about Dice-BB in this series? He of the 2.20 WHIP and .348 BAA in his start against the Angels. I know, I know…small sample size, but isn’t that what we’ve come to expect from Daisuke anyway? If it’s any consolation, he is 1-0 in three starts against the Rays this year with a .228 BAA and a 1.60 WHIP (which includes 11 walks in 17 innings). Like in most situations, his numbers are better on the road, where his WHIP is a more respectable 1.20. Meanwhile, Mr. Shields is, shall we say, NASTY. Not only did he handle the White Sox pretty easily (less one bad pitch – three-run homer), but his numbers against the Sox of Red this year are pretty scary. He’s 2-0 against them at the Trop this year, with a nifty complete-game shutout mixed in. He misses bats better than he misses haymakers to Coco’s dome.
Edge: RAYS
STARTERS – GAME 2
Josh Beckett vs. Scott Kazmir
The last time I remember Scott Kazmir pitching against the Sox, he was walking dudes and giving up homers and throwing 9 straight balls and walking dudes and sucking and walking dudes. And as I recall, that was a pretty important game for the Rays. I don’t know if this means anything, but it certainly gives me confidence going into this showdown. The Kaz-manian Devil does have some pretty solid numbers at home though, posting a 1.29 WHIP and a .197 BAA. Meanwhile…Josh Beckett. What can I say? His last outing vs the Angels blew harder than some people might remember. So what can we expect? Well, as long as he can healthy, I think we’ll see the playoff Josh Beckett show up for Game 2. His numbers against the Rays this year have been absolutely SICK. He’s holding down a 0.91 WHIP and a .209 BAA against them this year, including a 0.60 WHIP and a .137 BAA (!!!!) at the Trop. I’m hoping with regular rest, the Beckett of old will be back in the saddle again. If not, it’s totally up in the air.
Edge: RED SOX
STARTERS – GAME 3
Jon Lester vs. Matt Garza
Did you guys hear? Jon Lester beat cancer! Look, in all seriousness, this guy is a straight up ace. 14 innings, 1 run in his first two postseason starts so far? I know Garza has been pretty good this year, but come on. Not even Sh!tShow is dumb enough to bet against Jon Lester right now.
Edge: RED SOX
STARTERS – GAME 4
Tim Wakefield vs. Andy Sonnanstine
Projecting a Tim Wakefield start is like trying to predict the weather. I mean, not even he knows where is pitch is going to go when he throws it. So how can one ever have high expectations for him? Oh, also, he’s 0-2 with a 5.87 ERA, a 1.63 WHIP, and a .279 BAA against the Rays this year. In other words, terrible. I know some Hysterics and other Sox fans are probably going to rip on me for this, but I could really do without Wakefield on this team. He’s bad for my blood pressure. At least I know what I’m going to get from virtually every other pitcher on this team. With Timmeh, it could be 8 innings 2 runs, or it could easily be 2 innings 8 runs. But here’s one thing I can tell you for sure: Sonnanstine is 2-0 vs. the Sox this year, he has pitched 13 innings and not allowed a run, and he’s holding down a 0.69 WHIP and a .152 BAA. Thank God he’s only starting one game.
Edge: RAYS
CLOSER
Jonathan Papelbon vs. Dan Wheeler
Is Dan Wheeler even the Rays closer anymore? Or is it still Percival? I have no idea, everywhere I read I get conflicting reports. I can tell you this for certain though…DAN WHEELER IS FROM RHODE ISLAND! If the Rays win, I want to see Baldelli and Wheeler spraying each other with coffee milk. That will ease the sting of a loss a little. In the meantime, yeah, Papelbon is better.
Edge: RED SOX
BULLPEN
Hideki Okajima, Justin Masterson, Manny Delcarmen, Mike Timlin, Javier Lopez and Paul Byrd vs. Grant Balfour, Chad Bradford, J.P. Howell, Trever Miller and David Price
The Rays bullpen, outside of their closer question mark, is actually pretty nasty. Balfour is an insanely intense guy on the mound, and David Price is a big-time wild card. Look for him in the rotation next year, guy is a stud. A diaper dandy, baby! Meanwhile, the Sox bullpen was up-and-down in the first series – they had moments of awesomeness, but also moments of oh-shit-ness. As a side note, Dick Vitale is a huge Tampa Bay fan. I’m takin’ the Rays, baby!
Edge: RAYS
MANAGER
Terry Francona vs. Joe Maddon
Let me just say that I have a ton of respect for Joe Maddon. Talk about a guy that has been instrumental in turning this franchise around – with the help of some better players, of course. I loves me some Tito, but Maddon is right there with him. Unanimous Manager of the Year, methinks.
Edge: EVEN
OVERALL OFFENSE
This is closer than you may think – the Rays did hit more home runs than the Sox this year, but Boston held the edge in OBP, SLG, and of course OPS. The issue of course now is injuries. How much will Lowell’s loss hurt the Sox? How much better are the Rays now with a healthy Longoria and a healthy Crawford? I don’t know, something about the Sox lineup doesn’t scare me the way last year’s did, and if I were a Rays fan, I’d be feeling pretty good about it.
Edge: EVEN
OVERALL PITCHING
Let’s face it – this series is going to come down to pitching. Will the playoff Josh Beckett show up? Will the Sox be able to rock Kazmir the way they did in September? Will Daisuke set new base-on-balls records? The rotation top-to-bottom seems pretty even on paper, while the Rays have an overall bullpen edge. But the Rays also do not have Papelbon, or anyone like him. Right now, this looks like anyone’s ballgame.
Edge: EVEN
I’m going to save my final predictions for tomorrow, where we’ll hopefully have some other Hysterics chiming in! What say you?
Mass Hysteria Sports 