TBS is showing a re-run of the Steve Harvey Show. I don’t even know what that is. My boyfriend had to spell it for me.

WHERE IS MY BASEBALL? WHERE IS MY BECKETT? WHERE IS TROPICANA FIELD?

Right about now, those mowhawked, blue-haired, cowbell-ringin’ Rays fans are standing and screaming, “NOT IN OUR HOUSE, MUTHAF*CKAS!”

Right about now, the Red Sox are slappin’ some extra pine tar on their helmets and spittin’ their chaw on the dugout steps.

But I am watching a man with a mustache crack jokes to a laugh track due to “technical difficulties.”

“Please stand by,” they’re telling me.  And I’m telling them, “THERE’S ONLY ONE OCTOBER, A**HOLES!”

Mr. Hyde receives counsel from Jason Varitek and John Farrell

The big game is less than an hour away and the big question is, undoubtedly: which Josh Beckett will show up tonight?

As this NYT article points out, his fastball velocity is dangerously down:

His fastball averaged 93.9 miles an hour in 2008, but it decreased to 92.4 against the Angels and just 91.1 against the Rays, according to the Inside Edge scouting service. (In three postseason starts last year, he averaged 95.3.)

And as Tony Massarotti noted, putting his finger right on the crux of the issue after Beckett’s Game 2 start, this is making him entirely too hittable:

The most disturbing statistic from this game was that Beckett threw 93 pitches and managed just four swings-and-misses, only one of them coming on a fastball.

Let’s say that again.

Beckett threw 93 pitches and got one fastball by a Tampa hitter – a swinging strike by B.J. Upton in the first inning. Every other fastball was either put in play or fouled off.

The other swings-and-misses? Two were on curveballs, one on a cutter. And this was against a Tampa team that struck 1,224 times during the regular season, more than any AL club but the Oakland A’s (1,226).

And keep in mind that the A’s have Jack Cust.

Whether Beckett wants to admit publicly that he’s hurting or not, the radar gun doesn’t lie. Well, sometimes it does…but that’s not the point. The box score doesn’t lie, and last time the Rays managed 9 hits–three of them leaving the ballpark–and 8 runs off of Beckett in four and a third. Though he has struggled to notch first-pitch strikes this postseason (48% of batters, according to the same NYT article), he only walked 1 Ray last time out, while striking out 5. (He walked 4 and struck out 6 against the Angels, and also gave up 9 hits, including two longballs.)

Tonight, Beckett’s first challenge will be to keep the ball inside the ballpark. So far this postseason, he’s given up 5 homers in 9 and a third innings. A home run every other inning? That just won’t do.

The fate of the Rays if Dr. Beckett shows up

His second challenge will be to keep the ball close to, if not actually inside, the strike zone–especially on the first pitch. Throwing the first pitch for a strike will allow him to rely more on his breaking stuff, which he’ll have to do since he clearly can’t blow the heater by these Rays. I say “close to” the strike zone since everything “in” the zone seems to end up soaring into the stands or ricocheting around the outfield.

(Yes, these are basics–but if their offense has caught fire, that’s all Boston needs.)

His third challenge will be beating himself. Look, a big 28-year old Texan used to throwing 95 with movement just isn’t a finesse kind of guy. When he’s behind in the count–heck, when he’s ahead in the count and smelling blood in the water–he’ll want to reach back for the gas. But right now, the tank’s empty. He won’t like it, and he hasn’t had time to learn it, but until that muscle heals he’ll just have to throw something else.

So tonight, Josh Beckett, the Boston Red Sox, and nervous Fenway Faithful everywhere are all hoping the same thing: please, hardball gods, let Jason Varitek have a plan.

We may only have another day to enjoy this, Sox fans, since Josh Beckett and his craptastic oblique will be taking the mound for Boston tomorrow and who knows what will happen. To get the maximum enjoyment out of this moment—and I am still doing secret little cha-cha moves up and down the corridors at work when I think no one can see me—here’s a roundup of links:

Yahoo’s Jeff Passan goes for goosebumps and raises the specter of Aaron Bleepin’ Boone.

Sox&Dawgs never gave up. No, really! (I sort of gave up, but gave up while still firmly believing that if they only put their freakin’ minds to it, they could come back. If that makes sense.)

Center Field is glad the Sox stuck it to the TBS broadcast crew, who did indeed start talking about the Rays-Phillies World Series before the game was truly ovah. (Thanks, announcerboys! A little reverse-jinx action never hurts.) And as we know, it ain’t ovah ’til the Big Papi swings.

Kevin McNamara homes in on the Crisp at-bat.

Fenway West has the wooooo-creepy numerology take.

Red Sox Monster highlights Curt Schilling’s (really awful) first pitch — the only pitch he threw from the mound in Fenway all year. Which, yes, means it cost 8 million dollars. But clearly it was worth it for a little bit o’ that bloody sock karma, right?

Joy of Sox notes that after falling behind 7-0 and intentionally walking Carlos Pena, the Red Sox only had a 0.6 chance of winning. If you turn the chart upside down, it looks sort of like the Dow.

As a bonus to her great recap, Amalie Benjamin has a video detailing the superstitious behavior of some Sox players during the final innings.

King Kaufman assails the fans who left early. Shame!

Tony Massarotti says “Wow.” And has a kind of creepy quote from Beckett: “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.” But before you get all Macbethian like I did, he’s just clarifying when he’ll talk to reporters.

Alex Speier reports that even with the hot, swampy breath of defeat steaming the backs of their grimy necks, the Red Sox dugout thrummed not with doubts, but with the steely resolve of a determined and indefatigable mantra: “Let’s win every pitch.”

Joe Posnanski calls it something out of a kid’s dream. Yes: yes. A wild, improbable, ridiculous dream! Why did we become prematurely middle-aged cynical farts who fret about the stock market and pop Prilosec before eating pizza? NO! Today my hair is shiny. My abs are like my college abs. I could eat a barrelful of chili-cheese fries smothered in jalepenos and buffalo sauce and wash it down with cheap tequila and not feel even the slightest singe along my esophagus. When I woke up this morning, I didn’t even need coffee! i just bounded out of bed, tingling with La  Belle Victoire. (But i did have some coffee anyway, just in case.) Maybe October comebacks are what Ponce de Leon was looking for!

I’m watching the game—it’s just the bottom of the 4th now—and the Red Sox have coughed up yet another early lead to the Rays. Evan Longoria only hits home runs. So, too, B.J. Upton. Scott Kazmir has suddenly remembered how to pitch. Meanwhile, David Ortiz struck out on three pitches earlier and can’t hit the side of a barn. I think I heard some Fenway Faithful actually just boo him.

It’s pretty depressing. But here’s one thought: Daisuke Matsuzaka should win the Gold Glove. Seriously. We all know the Gold Glove for a pitcher is sort of a joke award, but he’s had two really spectacular (for a pitcher) plays tonight, and it’s not even that unusual—Dice-K always fields his position well.

Anyway, if the Red Sox can somehow pull this one out, I’ll be excited for them to head back to the Trop–where at least they played reasonably well in the first two games.

Read the rest of this entry »

I noticed a subtlety in Jerry Crasnick’s write-up of last night’s absolutely inSANE game between the Red Sox and Rays—Game 2, in which the Rays tied the series 1-1 after pulling off a walk-off win in the 11th against Mike Timlin. (Why does Terry Francona bring in Timlin in extra innings anymore?? As soon as he comes in, I just know the game is over. I just know it. And the frat guys who live upstairs know it. And the waitress at Kelly’s Diner on the corner knows it. That guy from Sullivan Tire knows it. Mayor Menino knows it. My dog knows it. And, in fact, I suspect Mike Timlin knows it. Because all across New England, EVERYONE KNOWS THE GAME IS OVER WHEN MIKE TIMLIN COMES IN. I know he’s a lovely human being, and I know Terry Francona wants to show faith in his players, but come on. He’s shot. It’s over. Hand the ball to someone else. ANYONE ELSE. Even Paul Byrd! Even Tim Wakefield! At least with Wake, you have a 50-50 chance the pitch could float in for a strike.)

Writes Crasnick:

J.D. Drew, who had been plunked on his throwing shoulder by a 95 mph Grant Balfour fastball in the series opener, uncorked a weak throw up the third base line, and Perez scored easily to send the Rays into a celebratory frenzy.

“As soon as I drew my arm back to throw and follow through, I got that good charley horse from where I got drilled in the shoulder last night,” Drew said. “I didn’t have the best grip on the ball, so it kind of sailed a little bit to the right. I knew I had to be perfect. And when I released it, I knew it wasn’t.”

Drew normally has an enviable throwing arm, but the ball bounced twice on its way in. Still, Drew’s explanation can’t help but contrast starkly with this quote from Josh Beckett:

Beckett obliged reporters and answered questions at his locker after the game, but he was cryptic and tight-lipped about his performance and his health status. While the oblique injury appears to have transformed him from John Smoltz version 2.0 to Mr. Rocked-tober, he’s not about to use health problems as an excuse. And he still sounds like a guy who plans to pitch when his turn in the rotation comes around again in Game 6.

“I’m fine,” Beckett said at least four times during a two-minute interview. “It’s just frustrating when your team scores eight runs and you can’t win the [bleeping] game.”

I dunno, JD. Beckett’s badassery sounds pretty, well, badass, compared to your “explanation.” And Dustin MVPedroia played last October with a cracked hamate and we didn’t even know about it until later. And yet you’re blaming your weak-ass two-hopper on an HBP? That’s a thing that makes me go “hmm.”

But here, in the Boston Globe, is this conflicting report: “Drew didn’t make any excuses and didn’t lean on a recurring back problem or the throwing shoulder that got drilled by Grant Balfour in Game 1.”

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Boston is nothing if not a verbose town. We’ve got a raft of writers, a posse of intellectuals, and Ted Kennedy. And our ballclub’s seven-game ALCS victory has only made this affliction worse.

Our baseball men are getting metaphorical (and even Classical):

“He was like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs out there,” Timlin said of Beckett [in the bullpen]. “He didn’t know what to do or when to throw. But he found a way to keep himself occupied.”

“He doesn’t back down to anyone or any situation,” Epstein said [of Dustin Pedroia]. “That’s what makes him good. He walks around like he’s an Adonis instead of 5-foot-6.”

The gauntlet had then been down for our sportswriters, who rose to the challenge admirably.

Kevin Paul DuPont: “Had it not been for that huge Coke bottle strapped to the light stanchion above the Green Monster, the ball Kevin Youkilis hit in the eight inning last night might have imperiled Mass. Pike motorists, skipped across the Charles River, and slowly come to a roll on this side of the Canadian border.”

 

Dan Shaughnessy: “The game was played on the 32d anniversary of Carlton Fisk’s World Series walkoff homer and though the score indicated little drama, the final play was no less spectacular.

 

At 11:56 last night, Casey Blake hit a towering shot toward the 420 (foot) sign in the deepest part of center field at Fenway Park. The ball descended from the October sky and settled into the outstretched mitt of a galloping Coco Crisp, who crashed into the bullpen fence and dropped to the ground holding the American League pennant in his hand.”

Unfortunately, then Bob Ryan got into the act. Maybe Ryan’s been putting too much effort into his new blog or his new show. Because this is the best he could do:

Forget the score.

 

Omigawd was that tense!

At least until the little guy unloaded.

But then it got tense again.

Until the Wild Thing Closer got out of the eighth.

And then things got real comfy when the little guy unloaded again in the six-run eighth.

Omigawd, what a ballgame, what a glorious night at Fenway, what a way to enter the World Series.

The Red Sox did it. They beat the Cleveland Indians, 11-2, last night.

Yikes. Can blogging be dangerous to your writing voice? (I hope not.) Is Bob Ryan trying to sound like a contestant on My Super Sweet Sixteen? (Yes.) Why?? (No idea.)

So I think it’s time for a new kind of contest. Yeah, we have trivia and write-your-own-caption. How about write-your-own lead paragraph? I’ll go first (in the comments). Extra points for wild metaphors!

So when Manny made his famous it’s-not-the-end-of-the-world-if-we-lose comment, I defended him then and there. In fact, I even said “Who Cares?” would make a great 2007 postseason rallying cry and hoped for some entrepreneurial spirit to silk-screen it on some t-shirts.

And now that the Red Sox have come back from their 3-1 ALCS deficit and are headed to the World Series, the rest of the baseball writing world is agreeing with me. Now that the games have been played. Now it’s “safe.”

Among the perps? One of my favorite writers, Charles Pierce over at Slate. He posted an article today at noon, beginning:

All right, then, be it resolved: Manny Ramirez knows more about baseball than you do.

And be it further resolved: Manny Ramirez knows more about baseball than anyone else does.

Say it ain’t so, Charlie! Please tell me you wanted to write this column days ago, but your killjoy editor made you wait! Because what you write is true, but it would have been true even if the Red Sox had lost Game 7.

Also today, Eric Pfahler at Scripps Howard chimed in with the following paragraphs:

Manny Ramirez did the right thing — whether he knew it or not — by making his comments prior to Game 5 of the ALCS about how life will move on if the Red Sox don’t make the World Series. Everyone was bashing the Red Sox for playing tight, so Manny becomes Manny and says something silly all the while bashing the ball as if he’s playing with an aluminum bat.

Regardless of what people might think, it was exactly what the Red Sox needed. The team needed to loosen up and it showed in Game 5. No one is better at creating a fun distraction than Ramirez. We in the media are the silly ones who lap it up.

Lap for yourself, Eric!

Now, not everyone recapping Game 7 today mentioned Manny’s comments. But almost everyone talked about the team “staying loose.” And of course, no one was looser than one Manuel Aristides Ramirez. That was true several days ago. Without the benefit of hindsight. When it wasn’t “safe” to say it.

First, tonight’s Metro GameDay column: a game of millimeters.

Now, the keys to tonight’s game:

For the Red Sox

1. Daisuke Matsuzaka must go big or the Red Sox will go home. He can’t afford to make mistakes—he must locate his fastball, and his breaking stuff must break. It won’t matter if he can’t get out of the 5^th inning again (the Red Sox bullpen now includes starters Lester, Wakefield, and Beckett, as well as a rested Papelbon, Timlin, and Okajima) as long as he can keep the Indians from having a big inning.
2. The Sox offense needs to solve Jake Westbrook. They’ve been on a tear since the late innings of Game 5 in Cleveland, and with the Sox back in the friendly confines of Fenway Park, that momentum has only gathered steam. But they can’t wait until Westbrook leaves the game to score—Rafael Betancourt has just been too good.
3. Terry Francona needs to choose his relievers carefully. Eric Gagne will no doubt stay on the bench after working last night (and after being so dreadful in Game 2). Nonetheless, Manny Delcarmen has been knocked around by the Indians both times he’s appeared in this series, and I would be very surprised (and, let’s be honest, completely infuriated) if Tito tapped him again.

For the Indians

1. Westbrook’s sinker needs to sink as well as it did during Game 3. He needs to keep the Red Sox offense off-balance—and keep them hitting into those double plays. This is no less important for being glaringly obvious.
2. The Indians offense must be patient with Daisuke. Even with his high strikeout rate, he has walked about one batter for every two strikeouts. Plus, opponents’ OBP on full counts is almost .500—in other words, if the Indians can work the count full, they have about a 50-50 chance of reaching base.
3. The Indians need to score first. The Red Sox showed at the Jake on Thursday what can happen to a great home crowd when the enemy team strikes first. If the Indians can do the same thing at Fenway, they might be able to take the crowd out of the equation.