I had another post more or less ready to go, a congratulatory post to the Tampa Bay Rays. It dies in the same trash bin where my Yankees-win-the-2001-World-Series column, my Memphis-wins-the-national-championship column and my
So this post won't be long. That was unbelievable. That's all. I just watched the Red Sox come back from 7-0 in the final innings of an elimination playoff game. And I never saw anything quite like it. Yes, the Red Sox have had all those incredible moments, of course. Came back from three games down against the Yankees. Came back from three to one against the Tribe. But this was different, this was ridiculous ... you know what this was like? This was like something out of a kid's dream. Do you remember being a kid and concocting these fantastic scenarios when your team was losing, these preposterous comebacks that boggled logic and the space-time continuum. I can remember, clear as Fiji Water, watching the Cleveland Browns trailing by 17 in the fourth quarter and thinking, "OK, if they score a touchdown here, onside kick, get it, score another touchdown, onside kick again, get the ball again, then all they would need is a field goal."
So it was on a Thursday in Boston.
If they can just get a two-out, two-strike RBI single from
And if they can get a three-run homer from
And if they can get a two-run home from
And if they can get a 254-pitch at-bat from
Then all they will need, in the bottom of the ninth, is a terrible throw from
The insta-poll question after this crazy game is this: Can the Rays recover? And it leads to the bigger question: Is there even such thing as momentum in baseball? I don't know the answer to either of those questions. My gut tells me that the Red Sox probably feel pretty invincible now, and even though
But my memory reminds me: I was there in St. Louis two days after
In other words, I don't know what to expect. Gut says Red Sox. Mind says Rays. Heart says I shouldn't have had that Mexican food. And eyes say its bedtime. God, I love baseball.