Around here, in my shady, bullet-ridden apartment, we take things one day at a time. One game at a time. And even though the Sox could clinch a playoff birth today, even though we’ve scored two titles in four seasons, we take nothing for granted. We think of the lean years, the crying years, the years spent sending fists through glass and feeling the muscles in our legs go slack at the final out and praying to the Gods of Baseball to let us know what it feels like just once before we shuffle off to that great big Fenway in the sky. We still want the division. And we know it’s going to be tough. But to a team that’s played as shakily on the road as the 2008 Sox, home field advantage means that much more of an edge when it matters most. Especially with the question marks surrounding Lowell and Drew, two guys whose contributions made most of our 2007 postseason success possible.
Last night, we took another step toward the goal, beating the Jays, who seem to relish the role of spoiler. And today, we get Halladay versus Lester and the possibility of sealing up another postseason appearance. Frankly, I can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday afternoon. You know, outside of being kidnapped by a local sorority and subjected to medical experimentation.
