From the edge of reason…and sanity…

Red Sox and Alternate Universes…

Man, it’s been a while since I posted here. As I sit here waiting for Game 3 of the World Series between the Red Sox and the Cardinals (it’s even surreal to type that), and the Red Sox Chickie is down nursing her ulcers, I figure I’d fill in a bit.

So, is the whole Red Sox thing bizarre, or what? You sweep the Angels in the divisional series, then go down 3-0 against the Evil Empire – err, Yankees – as if you were the backup players for a little league team, and your number one and two batters strike out more than I did in high sch-err, lets not go there. Anyways, then they pull off the impossible – win four straight to win the ALCS and go on to the World Series. Not to mention the ALCS took longer than the Simpson trial – why bother sleeping when you have to be in the office in 5 hours?

Now, we’re in the World Series, and up two games to none. Two more, and I’ll have the total proof that I have slipped in a parallel dimension.

See, lets look at all the facts. Let’s start with that other team, the Patriots:

  • They won the Super Bowl
  • …twice, in three years
  • …with a coach who previously was head coach of the Cleveland Browns
  • They’ve won more consecutive games than any other team ever
  • They are 6-0 so far
  • By contrast, the Miami Dolphins, perpetual division rivals, are 1-6

I mean, can we really say “New England Patriots” and “Most dominating team” in the same sentence? Maybe not dominating as in 24 point differences, but no one has beat us yet.

Now, the good olde team. First, this is the Red Sox. This just doesn’t happen:

  • Your star clutch pitcher’s foot is held on with sutures and duct tape, yet he still pitches effectively
  • You give up 8 errors in two games (including two consecutive errors by your big-ticket name player), and win both
  • Pedro pitches mediocre most of the season, yet heats up at the end and in the playoffs
  • The afore mentioned going down 3-0 in the ALCS, and do what NO ONE has ever done before, winning it in seven
  • …against the Yankees

The signs were all there at the start:

  • You have four big players due to become free agents at the end of the season
  • …including Pedro, who always shoots his mouth off about a lack of a contract
  • You try to trade for the most expensive player in baseball
  • …behind your star shortstop’s back, alienating him
  • …fail to get the player
  • …and allow the Yankees to get him for just a few bucks more

Yet they came out blazing and if not for a middle of the season swoon, would have topped the division. Well, we get into the playoffs as the wild card – all part of the sinister plan to suck Red Sox Nation in to feeling “this is the year” yet again, only to crush us yet again. According to schedule so far.

Then, they decide to really boost our hopes, with great performances and a sweep of the Angels. We’re going in hot – to face the Yankees. We’ve got an axe to grind, but they are the Yankees, and according to Pedro, his “daddy”.

That’s when reality sets in. Schilling comes apart, literally, after jinxing himself before the game by talking about “shutting up” the fans in Yankee Stadium. Pedro has a horrible game and issues his “daddy” comment – thus giving the Yankees fans a whole new war cry. Johnny Damon looks like he’s swatting at mosquitos, not baseballs, and Bellhorn is shooting for the “shortest at bats” record.

(By the way, do you think George Steinbrenner is mad at Donald Trump for coming up with the “The Donald” moniker, and goes around the office insisting everyone calls him “The George”? Is there a new reality series in there somewhere? “You need to build a World Series baseball team, from scratch, with an unlimited budget, in 12 months…” Fox, call me…)

We endured the endless news blurbs about no one even having forced a game seven when down 3-0 in a seven-game series. We hear how Schilling’s foot is hanging by a thread. Even Major League Baseball sold a “Who’s your Daddy?” shirt (favoritism anyone?).

Then we slipped into a parallel dimension.

The bats wake up. Gordon and Rivera can’t shut down the Red Sox any more. Schilling pitches with freakin’ blood pouring out of his sock. Derek Lowe has a career-defining game. Bellhorn starts hitting like a clean-up clutch hitter. And A-Rod pulls a bush-league slap on a tag I’d expect to see in a pickup softball game at the local crappy field, not coming from the highest paid player in the universe in the ALCS. I had a fair amount of respect for A-Rod before (despite the failed trade – it was the union, not A-Rod, that nixed that), but that is gone now. And to deny it, on national television – the same television that will endlessly show the replay that he clearly karate-chopped at Arroyo’s arm.

The parallel-dimension kicker – not one, but TWO umpire calls are reversed in a game – unheard of in itself – and both go in FAVOR of the Red Sox. In the words of Vizzini in The Princess Bride, “Inconceivable!”

So, here we are. I’ll KNOW we’re in a parallel dimension when the Red Sox pull off the ultimate, winning the World Series – and they announce the Series MVP – Mark Bellhorn.