There are times when all’s right with the world, when everything comes together into a nexus of pure unbridled joy. On a day which started with inpropitious omens - the Manny homer reversed - we saw comedy in Cairo’s disbelief, a stirring recovery by the entire lineup, and finally the epic collapse of Rivera, brought down by the failure of his fellow trooper, Kenny Lofton, to “catch the ball”.
Bronson Arroyo did well, I thought, considering that he had to wait through the rain delay. Yeah, so he left with the Sox lagging, but 6 innings, 2 runs is pretty decent; who knew Tanyon Sturtze would actually hold the line? Wakefield looks increasingly in danger of losing his spot on the postseason rotation.
I love that this team can bash people into submission and that it can run the bases and single them to death by a thousand cuts. I love not sighing in resignation anymore when Rivera steps to the mound. And I love hearing the Liza version of “New York, New York” and not the Frank one.
And Johnny Damon can probably sleep with any woman, and probably half the men, in Boston right now.