Before I make this prediction, I have to ask, what the hell? I have NEVER gotten an entire series’ worth of predictions right before. I’ve never picked all four divisional series games correctly, or both championship series, or even the World Series. This really is a messed up season.

So, without further ado, your 2008 World Series champions will be the Tampa Bay Satan-less Rays. Why? Because when you blow a 7 run lead in game 5 and still pull out game 7, you’re destined. Or lucky. Either way, they’ll get the job done.

Update: I just found this after the Phillies game 1 win. Now there’s no doubt the Rays will take the series!

Well, I’ve had a couple of days to think about that disheartening loss in game 7. I tried not to post immediately after the game for a couple of reasons. One, instead of typing I might have just thrown my computer across the room. And if I did manage to push any keys, the post would have come out looking something like “Fuckjldfi;LongorialkdjdswhiGarzasdfjdfsjkloffensethatcan’tdoshitjklfkl.” I figured waiting a day would be more coherent.

So now that I’ve had time to think about it a bit, I’ve concluded the following things. Most importantly, Wally’s rally cap can’t fix everything. He tried, he even loaded the bases in the 8th and brought our hottest hitter, Ms. Nancy Drew to the plate. But that only leads me to my next point, that Brian Gorman fucked us. Drew’s 2-out, 2-strike check swing was just that, a check swing. You’d think that Gorman and his 17 years of major league experience would teach him that in a game and count of that magnitude you APPEAL THE FUCKING CALL. The first and third base umpires are there for a reason, use them!

OK, now that I’ve got that off my chest, I’ve got to give the Rays credit (and finally, for the first time this season acknowledge their new Satan-less name). Every pitch they hit for an RBI was a GOOD pitch from Lester. These were no mistakes. Longoria’s RBI double in the 4th was at least 6″ off the plate. Baldelli’s RBI single was below his knees, and Aybar’s HR was also low. Lester pitched well, the Rays just hit better.

And when your offense continues to have Mark Kotsay and Jason Varitek leave the population of Rhode Island on the basepaths in this series, it means the rest of the team has to bring their A-games. Sadly the ball Papi crushed in game 5 and the single in game 6 were both aberrations. Combine that with Alex Cora in the lineup and you’re playing five against nine. It’s hard to beat any team in the ALCS, but trying to do it short-handed in near impossible. It was a valient effort, but in the end, the best team won.

So congrats to the Rays, you certainly earned it. And in case you missed it, fuck you Brian Gorman.

Wow, that was a great episode of the Steve Harvey Show. I thought TBS’ coverage of the series has been pretty bad, but not showing the first inning of the game? Are you kidding me? Even Kim was screaming obscenities at the TV for that one. I guess we only missed Coco getting picked off and Beckett allowing another moon shot to BJ Upton, so, nothing really important in an elimination game.

Let’s give some credit where credit is due (no Chip Carey, that will never be to you unless you resign). Beckett is still clearly hurt. His fastball hovered around 91 all game, and yet gutted out five innings of 2-run ball. Considering his last two postseason starts, this was quite an accomplishment. The problem is, the second run he allowed came with two outs in the 5th to the number nine hitter who had a whopping ONE home run all season. Not only did it tie the game, but it brought out the stupid cowbells again. No, Will Ferrell, we really don’t need more cowbell.

So when Shields mowed down Kotsay and Lowrie to start the 6th, it felt like this was going to be another close-but-no-cigar game at the Trop. But Shields fell behind 2-0 to our number nine batter, the Captain, at which point I screamed at the TV, “Tek, why don’t you do something useful?” The man who was oh-fer the series (0-14) whacked an outside fastball from Shields into the waiting arms of the man in the David Ortiz jersey sitting in the first row of the right-center field bleachers. Even louder than Kim screaming at TBS was Shields screaming “FUCK!” as the ball cleared the fence. It’s not exactly the same as calling a home run or a walkoff, but I’ll take it.

Okijima for two solid innings, Masterson for the 8th and an eight pitch inning for Paps and the Sox live to play a game seven. I’m still not sure if the 8 run comeback was more shocking, or Tek giving the Sox the lead with a HR. Either way, the Sox get one last chance to become champions of the American League. They’re going to need help from everybody, and that includes you Captain.

A couple of quick headlines from other news sites after the most exciting game in quite a long time:

In baseball, you can’t kill the clock. You’ve got to give the other man his chance. That’s why this is the greatest game. —Earl Weaver

If we’re using Joe Maddon math, I think the equation for this game was 7=8. The Sox had seven outs until being eliminated, and scored eight runs to save their season.

Considering the situation, this is easily one of the top five games I’ve ever seen. Elimination game, down 7-0 with absolutely nothing going your way, pulling out a win was not just improbable, but almost impossible. According to fangraphs when BJ Upton hit the 2-run double off Paps in the 7th, the Sox had a 0.7% chance of winning that game. You read that correctly, .007, and not in the good James Bond kind of way. But there’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive.

Kim is adamant about rally caps. In her mind, rally caps are not to be worn until a rally begins. I’m not so strict. For me, you wear the rally cap to get things started. My rally cap has had some great moments (see the 2004 ALCS), but recently has been kind of silent. Kim’s rally cap works, but has been inconsistent. What I learned from this game is that Kim’s Wally doll has the greatest rally cap of all time.

Kim has a small Wally beanie baby, and while he has a cap sewn on, he also is the proud owner of a frozen yogurt Red Sox helmet. When things are looking bad, Kim carefully balances Wally’s helmet upside-down on his head.

So with runners at the corners and two down in the 7th, Wally got ready. And boom, the only player on the Sox smaller than Wally gets the Sox on the board to cut the deficit to 7-1. If you listened really carefully you might have been able to hear Wally say “now watch this” as Papi stepped to the plate next and crushed a three-run homer deep into the seats in right. For the record, the Sox were 6-37 with RISP pre-Wally, and were now 2-2.

But Wally wasn’t done yet. A Bay four pitch walk to start the 8th, and the beautiful swing of the Sox player who shows fewer emotions than Wally with his sewn on smile, and suddenly it was only a one-run deficit.

So with four outs left, and the bases empty, I shouldn’t be surprised that Kotsay’s long fly just barely ticked off BJ Upton’s glove to put the tying run in scoring position. Why? Because of Wally. And when Coco fouled off pitch after pitch after pitch, I normally expect him to swing furiously over some changeup in the dirt. With Wally, he took the 10th pitch of the at bat into right for a game-tying single. I really don’t know how Wally’s cap stayed on to be perfectly honest with all my cheering and jumping around.

I’ll take all the blame for the 9th being more nerve racking than it should have. You see, in all the craziness of the 8th, we forgot to un-rally-cap Wally. Luckily for Sox fans everywhere, we took it off just in time.

So the Sox entered the bottom of the 9th tied. I never, ever think the Red Sox will score. I hope, I pray, but I never expect it. So when Pedroia and Papi went down quickly and Youks hit a tough grounder to third that Longoria scooped up perfectly, I was confused that I felt let down that the Sox didn’t score. Had Wally’s magic run out? They just scored seven runs in two innings and the 2-3-4 hitters are going to roll over? Apparently I can never count out the number of tricks Wally has up his sleeve as Longoria then rushed his throw to first. Instead of Carlos Pena catching the ball, he tried to olé! it and some nice bald man in the first row caught it instead. An IBB to Bay, and Mr. Emotion himself stepped to the plate. JP Howell fell behind 3-0, and then threw a “please let this be a strike” pitch down the middle that Drew took. But Drew didn’t take the 3-1 pitch. He lined it just over the head of Gabe Gross scoring Youks from second and completing the rally.

Mere adjectives can’t describe this game. Even most analogies will have a tough time. But this contest did prove Earl Weaver correct, that baseball is the greatest game.

Oh, and in the end, even my math was wrong. The Devil Rays only could get six outs. So I guess 6=8, Joe.

Every major news outlet is saying that it’s a terrible omen that the famous Citgo sign was burned slightly the other day. I’m going to take the glass is half-full angle though. Trust me, it’s a first. Ever since they arrived at Fenway, the Devil Rays have been taking the Joe Carter approach (I hit well at Fenway because “I like seeing the big “see-it-go” sign behind the Monster.”) So maybe they’ll stop hitting home runs to the tune of 7 in 2 games and allow the Sox to get back in the series. Maybe…

Huh, doesn’t this feel familiar? Down 3-1 in an ALCS series because Tito decided to allow an ineffective Wakefield start a critical game four. You know, the Tim Wakefield who was 0-2 with a 5.87 ERA this season against the Devil Rays. For that matter, Shaky Wakey was 1-2 with a 9.00 ERA since the 2003 ALCS before last night. In fact, he’s been so bad that when he put up the 2.2IP, 5ER stinker last night, his ERA rose less than one run (0.89). For that reason, I pretty much expected and therefore was strangely calm while watching Wake put the Sox in a 0-3 hole before the new-look lineup (it only took 18 unproductive at bats in a row for Jacoby to be benched) had a chance to bat. And then after the Sox failed to capitalize on a 1st/3rd one out situation in the 2nd, Wake made sure to give the Devil Rays enough of a cushion that they could breeze through the rest of the game.

I was sadly excited when Kevin Cash crushed a pitch into the monster seats in the 3rd only because it meant we wouldn’t be shut-out. And when the Sox scored twice in the 8th to cut the deficit to 13-4, all I could think was that at least it wouldn’t be another 11 run playoff loss (19-8 anyone)?

So while it’s still possible for the Sox to pull themselves out of this five and a half foot ditch they’ve dug themselves, well, let’s just make sure that we cheer Tek in case this will be his last at-bat with a C on his jersey. Despite this year, I still hope he is wearing the Olde Towne uniform next season, but with a much shorter/cheaper contract and with a young catcher to mentor.

So as game five approaches, hopefully the Sox can get a motivational speech from Kevin Millar and ride it to seven straight victories.

I didn’t think we had a huge chance going into this series, but then Dice-K had to look magnificent in the first game and all of a sudden, you start counting down wins. Two from Lester, at least one from Beckett and we’re back-to-back AL champs. One squeezed strike zone, and Lester’s worst start of the year at Fenway, and all of a sudden we’re a bad Wakefield outing from being down 3-1…again. I know the last two AL pennants came when the Sox were down 3-1, but if you play russian roulette enough you’re eventually going to find the bullet.

Realistically, the Sox were going to try to win a World Series with one pitcher this year, Lester, and that’s just not going to get it done (unless your name is Josh Beckett and you’re healthy). Lester, who’s far exceeded everyone’s expectations this season, finally blinked. I wish he hadn’t, I hoped he could ride this run out through the playoffs, but it’s a lot to ask a pitcher in his first full year. (See what I did there? I didn’t mention the cancer thing. Contrary to what Chip Carey and Craig Sagear will keep telling you, the guy actually pitches too.)

Of course we should look at the offense as well. Big Papi has turned into Big Pop-up, and our leadoff batter is 0 for the series (yet Tito continues to have him not only start, but bat leadoff). Even when guys get on base, the Sox are now something like two for 58 with RISP. We should at least thank the unsung hero from yesterday, Jacoby Ellsbury come on up…no, that’s not right. Paul Byrd did a great job of saving the rest of the pen, pitching 3 2/3 innings so nobody else from the pen had to be used. Although in retrospect it’s too bad we didn’t use Timlin so Tito wouldn’t be tempted to try using him tonight. Oh well.

I want to blame Mike Timlin. I really do. He’s clearly the bullpen equivalent of a white flag. But before blaming Timlin, these people need to take some credit: Terry Francona, Josh Beckett and Sam Holbrook.

This was probably Tito’s worst managed playoff game in his five years as Sox skipper. Beckett clearly had NOTHING. He couldn’t hit his spots, and his fastball that’s normally around 95-96 was topping out at 92-93…down the middle. Despite that, heading into the bottom of the 5th the Sox had a 6-5 lead. I totally understand wanting Beckett to get one shutout inning before handing everything over to the pen. But here’s my question: after the game was tied 6-6, and Evan Longoria who was already 2-2 with a HR and a double off Beckett was coming to bat, isn’t this clearly the time to go to the pen? And when the Sox were losing after that at bat 7-6, and you’re still in the 4th, why do you use Lopez FOR ONE PITCH? If you didn’t do that, maybe you would have had somebody other than Timlin to go to in the 11th. Just a thought.

I know, I know, if Lopez gets the out and the Sox win, Tito’s a genius. But I can’t imagine how he can defend those decisions even if they worked out.

As for the aforementioned Timlin, he was squeezed, pure and simple. After Mark Kotsay was called out on a pitch at least 6 inches off the plate in the top of the 11th, Timlin was having pitches called balls that were clearly strikes. Even the stupid TBS pitch tracks system said so. Did Sam Holbrook have dinner plans? I wish we could get a video of how the strike zone changed throughout the game. I have a feeling it’d look a bit like Oprah (”She’s fat, she’s thin, she’s fat, she’s thin – I mean, come on, pick a body and go with it!”). Holbrook should be ashamed. He handed one team the game on a silver platter. But then again, so did Tito.

Has this all been a joke? If so, Dice-K, you’re a fucking riot. You walk the bases loaded in the first, get out of it, and then don’t allow a hit until the 7th. Since you always make things interesting, you then let Carl Crawford get to third with NO outs in the 7th in a 1-0 game and escape unscathed. Is there some clause in your posting fee that you need to give Red Sox Nation at least two freak-outs a game?

Honestly, he hasn’t been able to go more than 5 innings in any start against the Devil Rays this season, has never pitched more than 5.1 innings in any playoff game, and all of a sudden decides, “eh, what the hell, I’ll throw 6 no-hit innings, and seven shutout.” Or maybe he really said “that chicken I had for dinner was fantastic”, my Japanese isn’t very good.

The Sox almost seemed like they didn’t want to score against Shields either. The first run came on a leadoff walk, a check-swing double by Kotsay and a sac fly by Lowrie. The best hit ball of the inning was the sac fly on an 0-2 pitch. Eventually, Unkie Youk tacked on an insurance run in the 8th with an RBI double. (Youk told the TBS audience after the game that he became an uncle today…and thus will from now on be known as “Unkie Youk.”)

The Devil Rays did look a tight as Mike Scocia’s panties. I can’t believe that Carlos Pena swung at a 3-0 pitch from Okijima when he had yet to throw a strike. And then Longoria swings at a 2-0 pitch at his ankles, and grounds the 2-1 pitch for an inning-ending double play against Masterson. What’s next, a suicide squeeze? I can only hope they play this way all series.

If anybody reading this blog happens to see Chip Carey, can you please punch him in the mouth for me? This is pretty close to his call of an at bat in the bottom of the 6th:

Dice-K is really no-hitter mowing down the batters in no-hitter this game. He hasn’t allowed a hit, and is pitching a no-hitter through 5. Barlett steps into the no-hitter box and takes a no-hitter strike at the knees for an 0-1 count. If you’re just joining us, Dice-K has a no-hitter going right now. That means he hasn’t allowed any hits.

Chip, your father AND grandfather are both rolling in their graves right now. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can we have Fox back?