Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Game Three

Check out Chad's Blog on Being in Boston This Week
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So Game One was a tight one, certainly plenty of moments where I spewed some profanity, covered my eyes, and found myself doing my best Terry Francona/Rainman impersonation. Ended well but there were plenty of tense moments to go around.

Game Two was ... well, I was there at Fenway Park, so it was way beyond exciting, even if it was never a very close game. The four errors were cause for some stomach churning, but otherwise just a ridiculously high level of adrenaline to be witnessing such an amazing performance by Curt Schilling.

Game Three last night was ... dare I say ... easy to watch! From the moment Joe Buck mentions in the first inning that Terry Francona is just waiting for Manny to explode, and instantly Manny jacks one, I knew it was going to be a good night. Then in the bottom of the first, Manny (Mr. Silver Glove himself) throws a guy out at home. Another good sign. Finally, in the third, Jeff Suppan makes the ultimate brain fart and is tagged out at third when anyone, even Nelson, could have scored on that play! That sealed it for me.


See, the thing is, if this was any other year in Red Sox history, Jeff Suppan would be a Sox player. Those are the kind of things that have happened to the Sox year after year since you know when. To think that our third base coach, Dale "Wave 'Em In" Svuem, criticized plenty throughout the regular season, has had an uneventful (in a good way) postseason, while last night we watched replay after replay of the Cardinals third base coach practically have a coronary while Suppan stumbled back and forth, then get the third degree from coach Tony "I'm Too Good for Quincy" LaRussa ... Well, it just confirms this year is different.

So when Suppan stumbled, and the Cardinals weren't able to squeeze out even one run in that inning, I knew we were going to win. And it was only the third inning!

Most bizarre feeling as a Red Sox fan I can ever remember. I didn't know what to do with myself. Relaxed during a Sox playoff game! Where am I? Who am I? What's going on?

Not that I voiced any of this at the time. I still felt the need to keep up the ritual of going around the room to my dad, mom, husband and sister to knock knuckles after each good play. And I still dug my fingernails into my hands for the entire ninth inning. Some things don't change.

And now Mission 11W, as Curt Schilling calls it, is down to Mission 1W.

One. More. Win.