Faithful (45 page)

And for Ted, Johnny, Yaz, Lonnie, Rico, Tony C, Boomer, Luis, Spaceman, Pudge, Rooster, Bernie, Jim Ed, Freddy, Eck, Ned Martin, Ken Coleman, Dewey, Hendu, Bruce Hurst, Sherm Feller, John Kiley, Marty Barrett, The Can, Mo, El Guapo, and yes, for you, Billy Buck, and even you, Rocket, and finally—finally—for you, Babe. All is forgiven.

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Copyright © 2004 by Stewart O’Nan, Stephen King

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Library of Congress Control Number: 2004063398

ISBN-13: 978-0-7432-7244-5

ISBN-10: 0-7432-7244-7

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The Boston
Globe
’s Dan Shaughnessy.

Where it festers.

In the first two meetings of this year, we beat them by scores of 6–2 and 5–2, and the Yankees’ big off-season acquisition, Alex Rodriguez (who Red Sox fans see, rightly or wrongly, as a player stolen out from under our very noses by George “I’ll Spend Anything” Steinbrenner) went 0 for 8. Well enough. In the third game, however, The Team That Will Not Die is leading the Sox 7–3 in the fourth inning.

Shaughnessy again: “…only three collapses approximate this one: the 1915 Giants led the Boston Braves by fifteen games on the Fourth of July and finished ten and a half behind; the 1951 Brooklyn Dodgers led the Giants by thirteen games August 11, got tied on the final day of the season, then lost the playoff; and the 1964 Phillies led the Cardinals by six and a half games with twelve to play, then lost ten straight. The Giants, Dodgers and Phillies eventually won championships. The Red Sox…” Well, do we need to finish that? Fuck, no, we’s
fans
.

Who went to the unusual length of issuing an apology after the game—fat lot of good it did us.

Who will not be eligible for the win today, I’m happy to report.

When Zim was the Red Sox field general, Sox pitcher Bill Lee once called him “the designated gerbil.”

Harvey Frommer and Frederic J. Frommer,
Red Sox vs. Yankees: The Great Rivalry
(Sports Publishing/Boston Baseball, 2004). This is a Boston-biased book, but most of the color photographs show celebrating Yankees and downcast Red Sox…wonder why.

Ibid.

The Yankees won today’s game, 7–3. The final game of the series will be played tomorrow at 11 A.M. (it’s the annual Patriots’ Day game in Boston), and with today’s win and tomorrow’s matchup—Boston’s Bronson Arroyo versus the Yankees’ Kevin Brown—the Yankees have an excellent chance of earning a split… curse them.

The loser, I’m very sorry to say, happened to be ex–Red Sox closer Tom Gordon, the star of a book I wrote…and in
The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon,
Flash will be the Red Sox closer forever. Sorry, Mr. Steinbrenner, but there’s not a thing you can do about that one.

Here’s what I understand about hockey: Bulky men wearing helmets and carrying sticks in their gauntleted hands skate around for a while on my TV; then some guy comes on and sells trucks. Sometimes chicks come on and sell beer.

The record he shares, perhaps not so coincidentally, with fellow former Portland Sea Dog Kevin Millar. SO

There was a time when you could see The Wave going around at almost all baseball parks and football stadiums; to my knowledge, only at Fenway does it survive. Survive? Nay, sir or madam, it
thrives!
Tonight it went around and around in the eighth, when the Sox sent eleven men to the dish and scored six times. I myself refuse to wave unless I am also allowed to scream
Sieg heil!
at the top of my lungs.

48 degrees, according to Channel 4 weather when I got back to my hotel.

The start of last night’s game was held up for an hour and a half in anticipation of rain showers that never came.

In truth, Tek—for some reason only known to himself, Stewart O’Nan always calls him Tek Money—did not try very hard to avoid this pitch; it was a classic case of taking one for the team if I ever saw one. And, as a man who got to watch Don Baylor play, I’ve seen my share.

Greek God of Walks… but you knew that.

It’s true that Smarty Jones lost the Belmont Stakes in the final hundred yards yesterday, but he can’t bat cleanup or go to his left on a ground ball hit deep in the hole, so fuck him.

Today’s newspapers described Wells’s latest stint on the DL only as resulting from an “off-field incident.” A guy I know who follows the game closely says Wells injured his wrist when he fell off a barstool. I assume that was a joke, but given Wells’s declared proclivities, one cannot be entirely sure.

Although he
was
clearly pleased (at one point during his postgame comments, Pedro called it a “dream game”), and given the outcome—no runs and just two hits in eight innings pitched—he had every right to be.

Go, you Pistons! Stick it
to
’em! Booya, Shaq!
Double
-booya, Kobe!

And maybe that giant skeletal Coke bottle in left field.

So what the heck does that make me and O’Nan?

Everyone except Warren Oates has played first base for the Red Sox this year. Manager Francona had Oates down for it one night, but had to scratch him when he found out that Oates had died some time ago.

Nor has it hurt that Johnny Damon is off to what may be a career year at the plate.