Ever since his home run in the twelfth inning of game four of the 2004 ALCS, David Ortiz has been the go-to guy for pulling our asses out of the fire. Last year, he put an entire goddam city on his back, then almost single-handedly bashed us toward another World Series title. So we could give the guy a pass if he sometimes got tired of darting to the nearest phonebooth and putting on his cape.
Yet, here he is, over a decade into it, making things happen when we need it most.
Had we dropped last night’s rubber game to the Rangers, wasting a gem of a performance by Jake Peavy, it would have been the final nail in a truly miserable home stand, and a dismal note to kick off our latest title-defending season.
So the man steps up again, this time whomping a bottom-of-the-eighth, three-run homer into the right-field corner that was hit with such force, it practically fell off the radar. In fact, were it not for DO’s affirmation and the roar of the crowd, I would have never known if the damn thing stayed fair or simply left Earth’s atmosphere. Even Ron Washington, as one commenter pointed out, seemed “confused by Pesky’s Pole,” asking the umpires to review the home run.
To summarize: on a night the Red Sox could have crawled out of Fenway Park with a 1-5 homestand in their back pockets, Ortiz sent them out on a high note. Or at least with a better sense that whatever fog has kept them grounded thus far is finally lifting. It’s called better living through David Ortiz. And I embrace it.
The lesson: even with a fistful of dollars in the casino or a full account at metap.org, you never bet against David Ortiz. Just don’t do it.
Next stop, the Bronx. Hi, Jacoby.