Last month, as the Sox squandered opportunity after opportunity, I’d sit in anguish as I listened to the post-interview cliches.
“Just wait until we start hitting.”
“You can’t keep this line-up down forever.”
“We’re gonna bust outta this soon.”
“Are they ever gonna release ‘Silver Spoons’ on DVD?”
So on and so forth. Whatever.
But now, as I watch the Sox take their fourth in a row I realize, “Holy crap. It’s happening.”
The facts: Everyone is spanking the bejeezus out of the ball. Damon, who went four-for-five last night with two round-trippers, has apparently been bitten by a radioactive spider. Nomar belted three hits. Ortiz showed signs of life after a slow start to the homestand with a couple of hits.
Last night was about the pitching, too. Bronson Arroyo, whom we feared may have been spending more time on his guitar chords than his mechanics, looked positively masterful, taming the league’s best hitting team as casually as a guy ordering extra sauce at Kelly’s.
And now we’re getting spoiled. Last week, when the wheels were coming off the wagon, I prayed for them to take 4 of 6 on this homestand. Now they’ve got the 4, but I want more. Tonight’s game represents “the hurdle,” with Derek “I’m not crazy/You’re the one who’s crazy” Lowe squaring off against 12-2 Kenny Rogers. But, the way the Sox are rolling, anything can happen.
