The Biggest Playoff Comeback in Baseball History

From 0-3 to 4-3. Unprecedented. Unexpected. Unearthly. Unbelievable.

Damon’s grand slam was cool, don't get me wrong. But the clamor that Bellhorn's dinger made as it bounced off the foul pole fence was, ultimately, a death knell as prophetic and poetic as Shilling's blood-red sock. It was run number nine, with an added sonic twist. It made a sound that, if I were a Yankee fan, would have made me shudder.

It was a ringing, dissonant clang in a stadium with a reputation for resonance. A veritable cartoon doink. Only with a cheap, more rackety echo. It may have well been Big Ben shattering into shards upon the clapper-to-brass impact at the beginning of Mariano's AC-DC "Hell's Bells" intro stroll. I want that clank burned for 72 mins on a CDR.

Yet, Lowe is removed from the game after giving up just one hit.

Yet, I was physically unable to watch the 8th inning. Tension.

Yet, we now need to rely on Pedro.

Yet, let me repeat  until it is etched into your subconscious: Belief not tempered by doubt poses a mortal danger.

I have 660 AM on now, the NYC sports radio station. The callers are screaming for Torre's head. Unfair. On the tele, Cashman, the Yankee GM, looked like he was bearing Dante's 5th level for Steinbrenner. “The river Styx runs through this level of Hell, and in it are punished the wrathful and the gloomy. The former are forever lashing out at each other in anger, furious and naked, tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth. The latter are gurgling in the black mud, slothful and sullen, withdrawn from the world. Their lamentations bubble to the surface as they try to repeat a doleful hymn, though with unbroken words they cannot say it. Because you lived a cruel, vindictive and hateful life...” (Dante translation)

I feel sympathy for Cashman and Torre, as I honestly do for dozens of Yankee fans. Especially those who were sympathetic toward me last season. Especially Nancy, who deserves good karma way more than anyone I’ve ever known. And she had nothing but kind words, mercy and good will from Geneva for me over the last three innings. She’s a huge Yankee fan and has been through hell and high water this year. If anything tempers this win, it’s her being so far away and alone through what will surely be a trying day, night, week and month. Hurry home Nance.

Who knows... next round it could be Clemens vs. Schilling. Perhaps not Schilling. Though it would be nice. Bloody Red Sock vs. Mr. freshly laundered socks. More likely on the mound for the Sox will be Wakefield. Clemens...he's 10 years worth of three days away for me at present time. And let's not get ahead of my temporary joy...it’s a delicious thing.

There was, astonishingly, lots of cheering for the Sox at Yankee Stadium, lots of Boston fans in the stands. Tons. During the post game press conference in the somber Yankee dugout, you could hear the roar in the background. I think part of that noise was lil' ol' me in Red Bank. Oh, to be in Boston.

It was either champagne or lithium for one of the teams. In the end, it was the Yanks on lithium. The Sox ended up drenched in bubbly. As they should be. ‘Bout damn time.  

Songs at play:

The Laws Have Changed – New Pornographers

Light and Day/Reach for the Sun – The Polyphonic Spree

Superblast – Lush

Rearviewmirror – Pearl Jam

Won’t Get Fooled Again – The Who

Ghostbusters - That dude from the 80's

(with apologies to ESPN for the graphic, and thanks to Sam and Christine for the cell call creative strategy behind this sleepy entry)