If there is anything we can say about last night’s game that is completely expletive-free, it is that it provided a neat encapsulation of the agonies and ecstasies that define the Red Sox Fan experience.

On the positive side, we had a park full of fans rising to their feet to welcome Nomar back, and as number 5 stepped to the plate to go through his Rain Man routine, I felt the butterflies damn near lift me off my feet. I’ll swear by God and Sonny Jesus that Garciaparra was on the verge of tears when he took his position amidst a standing O — a veritable shower of love from the Fenway peeps. Suddenly, he was back and everything was right.

On the negative, we had our asses pounded into that dust you’ll find in “Pixy Stix.” Couldn’t buy a hit — although, oddly, Millar was able to procure two. And the misery was prolonged by a two-hour-plus rain delay.

Also, what with that Jimy Williams-esque line-up? Dominique at first base? Feh. This was Nomar’s first night back… a packed house, fans screaming like Vikings, all eyes on Fenway Park. We deserved a win, and while Francona couldn’t help his batters solve Lawrence, he could have at least put the best possible team on the field. As of this writing, that doesn’t include Dominique starting at first.

The inconsistency that has plagued our pitchers and our offense has been the thorn in this team’s side. Last night didn’t help quash either of these fears, but we’re close to seeing Trot, Williamson and the Invisible Mendoza back in action very soon. The panic button calls out to me. But I won’t give in.

Not yet, anyway.