Okay, that did not go exactly as I planned it. Well, to be fair, it was going fairly well until the bottom of the ninth. The Sox were up, 6-1, and all we needed was three measly outs to be singing "Dirty Water" softly to ourselves as we walked back to the parking garage. However, Manny Delcarmen had other ideas. Tito had other ideas. Scutaro and Bill Hall? Other ideas. Ideas that included not throwing strikes, giving up a two-run blast, not having someone warming up so you could yank Delcarmen (freshly off the DL) at a moment's notice, and then, why not? Infield errors. Paps finally came in, but he was off his game, too, and fuck it all to hell and back, we're tied, 6-6, at the end of 9. It was awful. I felt like someone kicked me in the gut. I was sure there was no way were were going to win -- I mean, John Lackey was throwing a no-hitter into the 8th! We were up by 5! To the Mariners! I'm pretty sure if NESN was still airing this debacle they showed my "WTF!?!" face multiple times. And as extra innings went on to extra innings, they surely got a glimpse of my "Please god, just let this end" face.
Inexplicably (after Okajima miraculously worked out of a bases-loaded, 1 out situation), the Sox won. Some guy named Patterson hit a 2-run double in the 13th. Ramon Ramirez managed not to suck and got three outs. And it was over. And I still felt sick, because that was some ugly fucking baseball right there. I can forgive bad pitching. Hey, it happens. I'm not as happy about the errors (you heard me, Bill Hall and Marco Scutaro -- no, your homeruns won't save you). And I'm not as happy about Tito putting too much faith in Delcarmen, and not having back-up at the ready. But we won. And we need to do it again. Today.