From 6 pm last night until Midnight I had a strange evening that involved politics, lots of yelling and a pitching duel that was overshadowed by extra innings.  Welcome to Boston.  Stella and I went to vote for a special city council election.  Stella loves the voting process and has picked the loser in every election she’s voted in.  I try and try to get her to participate in more events than eating sleeping and pooping, but that canine instinct just can’t get it right at election time.  I bet if I took the Spanish language ballot she would have nailed the winner.  Keeping with tradition we voted for the loser who lost by 150 votes.  Don’t you just hate seeing that?  All the guy needed was 150 more voters from his neighborhood (my neighborhood) to color in a silly little oval.

From there I went to a public meeting regarding the building of the new Spaulding Rehabilitation Center behind my building.  Our Senator and Representative were there plus Spaulding’s CEO (and their attorney that did all of the talking), a representative of the completely inept organization known as the Boston Redevelopment Authority and a bunch of crazy people who live in my neighborhood.  Needless to say it was exhausting and I left after 90 minutes mainly due to one of my neighbors whose voice makes me want to tear the skin off of my face, because I find that experience more pleasurable. 

When I got home, around 8:30, I forgot the Twins were on the docket which means an 8:00 start.  All of that pain turned into pleasure when I discovered I was witnessing a bonafide pitchers duel.  How often do we see this nowadays?  It’s so rare that you get two aces, at the top of their game, going head to head.  Santana was silly.  He was using two pitches and the Sox hitters couldn’t figure out what was coming when.  They, with the exception of Nixon and of all people Gonzalez, looked absolutely lost.  Schilling, not racking up the K’s was equally impressive with an arsenal of pitches that were all working and provided him with a low pitch count.  Plus he was aided by a couple of dumb baserunning blunders that must have caused Ron Gardenhire to have multiple strokes in the dugout.

I knew that one run was going to decide this duel.  Somebody was going to make a mistake and that would be it.  Santana revealed a pattern by starting everybody off with a fastball.  Wisely, the Sox batters decided to aggressively swing early in the count.  The K count dropped off and the outs were getting deeper and louder.  Santana figured out what the Sox were doing and decided to throw Tek a change-up on the first pitch of his third at-bat.  Don’t you love when a hitter guesses that a certain pitch is coming, sets for it and gets it?  Top of the 7th.  One pitch.  One line drive.  One run for the Sox.  That was it.  I was convinced the game was over.  Schilling was too good.  Papelbon was available.  Done and done.  Thennnnnnnnn the bottom of the inning rolls around and Schilling let’s a fastball go to the outside corner….and then it tails back in….and Michael Cudyouspellyurnameanyfunnier hit a bomb to right center and we’re tied.

That was it.  Nobody was winning this.  I wish they could call it a draw, because neither pitcher deserved to have a no decision, but the winds of an extra inning affair were blowing in.  I’ll skip the particulars, with the exception that Papi almost hit another late inning bomb until the hand of God himself knocked it down in the atmosphere free Metrodome, but the Sox score in the top of the 12th…..and then I woke up?  Woke up?  I don’t even remember falling asleep.  What am I doing waking up? I really was exhausted.  Damn you public meeting.  Damn you to Hell. Luckily a commercial was on so I figured I dozed off for about 13 seconds while the game moved to the bottom half of the inning.  Then NESN’s Extra Innings comes on.  Uh oh, I really did fall asleep. What happened?  The Sox had to have one.  Obviously.  Obviously right?  Helllllo?  Please tell me they won.  Naturally I’m thinking that Section 8 Tavarez came in and cleaned house.  Spic-and-Span.  Game.  Set.  Match.  It’s about time that guy did something good.  Phew.  I love that Tavarez.  I knew he’d get out of that funk.  Then Tom Caron opened his mouth “A great pitchers duel.  A great game but the Sox fall short via a walk of grand slam”.  Motherfu%%$%$#%*&*(@((##$$&*$**$!!!!!!!!!!  I swear I nearly drank a gallon of Listerine to numb the pain.

I hate these losses.  I hate them more than anything.  They always come back to haunt the team and they personally make me stir crazy.  You don’t lose games that you work so valiantly to win.  You secure the lead and you hold it.  This incident, in an increasing string of many, forces me to leap off of the Tavarez bandwagon.  I know I was the lone member left on it, aside from Theo Epstein who was riding shotgun, but I’ve had it.  If any of you thought that Foulke was terrible last year or that Timlin is awful when he inherits runners, Julian’s performance this season has been horrifying, abysmal and disgusting.  It’s June.  The weather is nice.  There are no more excuses.  Dump him.  Eat the money.  Dump Seanez.  Eat his money too.  Cover it in hot sauce, wasabi and gasoline and down it with some bread, but damnit eat all of it.  There are starving kids in China who would love to eat that money.  Delcarmen and Hansen are far better options.  How much worse can they be?  Manny D’s been pretty good and far more reliable.  Stop pulling his chain and giving him the Youkilis call-up/call-down treatment.  Just do it Theo.  Dump these guys fast before they blow more games for you.  If you’re afraid to pull the trigger put them on the 60 day DL.  I’m tired of this May/June/July .500 record for the past three seasons.  It gets old.  The Yankees are wounded and could be put down at any moment.  The Jays, because of the crappy Sox pitching, were allowed back into the race when they were fading.  Take a chance.  Run away with the division.  Believe in youth.  Remember, you’re 32 and somebody believed in you.