Red Sox's 'Play Like Complete Dog Shit in Attempt to Reach World Series' Experiment Yields Unsurprising Resul--Wait, WHAT?

The Boston Red Sox were apparently as hurt as I was by their being perceived as the sneering villains of this year's ALCS, but their solution to the problem--to perform so terribly against the upstart Tampa Bay Rays as to reposition themselves as the underdogs they were a scant four years ago and thereby win back the hearts and minds of the general public beyond New England before staging a comeback--has to this point seemed rather dangerous, even to me. By the top half of the seventh inning during Game 5 Thursday night, it seemed downright psychotic.

I was disappointed when the Sox came up short in the marathon Game 2 on Sunday, but no Boston fan could complain too much about gaining a split on the road against a no-joke opponent. When the Red Sox decided to lay down their bats and allow their 2008 postseason ace to get shelled in Game 3, however, I began to grow concerned: wouldn't the Game 4 start of Human Batting Tee Tim Wakefield have been a better opportunity to drop a game at home?

Turns out that it was a spectacular opportunity, as the Rays unloaded for a 13-4 rout on Tuesday. It was at this point that I began to suspect that some of these Red Sox losses weren't intentional. Frankenstein's monster had broken out of the laboratory was wandering the countryside, drowning small children.

Nonetheless, there was a part of me that couldn't help but admire the Boston club's commitment to regaining underdog status by allowing themselves to be put in a 3-1 series hole, just like they were against the Indians last year and against the Yankees three years before that, that would require them to sweep all three remaining games to win the pennant.

That admiration had dissipated into utter disgust long before the middle of the seventh inning on Thursday, when the Red Sox were getting their asses handed to them (yet again), 7-0. Given that I am a Red Sox fan from birth (who is older than 5), I'm no stranger to seeing my team fail miserably...but I could little recall a game or a series when every member of the team looked for all the world like they just didn't give a shit--like failure was inevitable. That's exactly what the Red Sox looked like after the top half of the seventh during the do-or-die Game 5, facing a deficit that had never before been overcome in the history of the American League Championship Series.

And then...

They scored four runs, scored another three in the eighth, and tacked on one more in the bottom of the ninth to win the game, 8-7, and send the series back to Tampa.

So that happened.

Whether or not the Boston Red Sox are able to achieve the still-very-daunting task of winning the pennant, it's nice to once again be rooting for a team that cares...at least for one more game.

Red Sox Take 25 Outs to Realize They're Facing John Lackey

Despite their deluded perception of geography, the Anaheim Angels of Pretending To Be From a Different City 30 Miles Away have been a very good team this year, one that has had the Boston Red Sox' number. While I, as a Red Sox fan, am not happy to be reporting on the fact that Nowhere But Anaheim extended their season series lead over Boston to 7-1 with a win on Tuesday, this is a much easier post for me to write than would have been the one I was planning to when there was 1 out in the bottom of the 9th...because that's how close the Red Sox came to being no-hit by John Lackey.

Who, the casual baseball fan may be asking himself? Exactly, I'm answering.

For such persons' edification: John Lackey is a decent--if inconsistent--pitcher who rose to prominence in 2002 when he helped the Angels (who had yet to publicly announce their shame over their own city by extending their team name to an unwieldy mouthful incorporating two separate and distinct locations) win the World Series. He followed up his star season by being terrible in 2003, sub-par in 2004, and serviceable in 2005. In 2006, Lackey reemerged as the team's ace--but by then, the world outside of Anaheim (including Los Angeles, which is a completely different city) had long since forgotten about him, as it should have.

Coming into Tuesday's game, John Lackey had firmly established his place in history as a mostly forgettable major-leaguer--one of baseball's many "Guy Fleegmans", if you will--whose most visible individual achievement was allowing himself to be made to look stupid in a Gatorade commercial. Had it not been for Dustin Pedroia's 9th-inning single (followed up by a two-run home run by Kevin Youkilis) in that game, John Lackey would have gone down in history as "the guy who no-hit the greatest team of the decade."

Instead, thank Jeebus, he'll go down as a dismissable "almost" in that regard...in the same way that Anaheim is almost Los Angeles.

Red Sox Bandwagon Extends to Major League Players

I would happily volunteer to be Madonna's personal sponge bather for eternity before I would even dream of dreaming of accidentally undoing the Boston Red Sox' historic World Series victory in 2004 (or, for that matter, their subsequent 2007 championship and any more that may take place in my lifetime)...but that's not to say that my formerly-famous-for-failing team's rise to dominance in the first decade of the 21st century has come without a personal toll: mainly, the bandwagon fans. They wear pink hats, they couldn't spell "Yastrzemski" if their lives depended on it, and--as any supporter of any Major League Baseball team whose home park is not located on Yawkey Way will bitterly attest to--they are everywhere.

Having reluctantly accepted, to the best of my ability, these deplorable peoples' putrid existence as a necessary downside of the excellence of the modern-era Red Sox, I am nonetheless dumbfounded to have discovered that the Boston-bandwagon culture has grown so powerful that it has actually permeated the players in the American League.

Does David Ortiz deserve a spot on the 2008 MLB All-Star team, even though he's currently on the DL? Without question. Same goes for Manny Ramirez, even though he's as likely to participate in the event as he is to abruptly retire and take a job as a hot dog vendor at Yankee Stadium--which is to say, there's a 50/50 chance. Dustin Pedroia and Kevin Youkilis each embody the ideal of a player whose tireless dedication enhances his talent; both of them deserve to be All-Stars as much as--if not more than--any household name. Those are the four Boston Red Sox who were voted as starters on the 2008 AL squad, and they were selected by the fans.

Fan voting ended last Wednesday, and the remainder of the selections were made by the players in each league. In the American League, three more Red Sox were added to the All-Star roster, including closer Jonathan Papelbon--all but a lock to begin with--and outfielder J.D. Drew--a more questionable choice, though he did raise his game significantly after Ortiz went down. I wouldn't have thought twice about the matter (it's possible that in place of this post would have been a rant against the raw deals Jacoby Ellsbury, Josh Beckett and Mike Lowell received) were it not for the third and final Red Sox voted to the 2008 All-Star team by his fellow players throughout the league:

Catcher Jason Varitek, who--at the time of this writing--is batting .219 with 7 home runs and 27 RBI.

You've shown your hand, Major League Baseball players. I love Jason Varitek and I hope that he keeps playing for the Red Sox until both of his knees explode, but I can state without hesitation that the man has no business on the All-Star team this year. Try as you might to defend your decision by referring to Varitek's less tangible "leadership" qualities and how he "contributes to wins even when he's not hitting", the underlying message is loud and clear: All of you are only pretending to like Jason Varitek because he plays for a winning team, and everybody loves a winner whether or not they know anything about them.

Care to dispute that charge? Without Googling, (1) name Jerry Remy's hometown, (2) name the Red Sox pitcher who would have been the 1986 World Series MVP (hint: it's not Roger Clemens), and (3) acknowledge the fact that Fever Pitch is a shit movie...then maybe we can talk.

After you get rid of that pink hat.