I sit clenched in front of my TV ready to watch the Sox stave off these infernal Cleveland Indians. Talk all you want about a historic collapse that exists only in the figments of your imagination, I say only this: You will not get this remote control from me. Not ever.
7:05 p.m.: Let’s get this out of the way. Yes, my palm is sweaty. Mark Buehrle’s first pitch, strike. This one’s in the bag.
7:10: Hawk is in postseason form as the veteran broadcaster wills a duck snort into Jermaine Dye’s glove.
7:14: It’s Podsednik, Iguchi and Everett. I smell single, double, double.
7:20: I watch fly out, groundout, fly out.
7:25: We just walked Jose “I Once Actually Struck Out Twice in the Same At-Bat” Hernandez, and just as I type the “z” in Hernandez, Aaron Boone goes yard. Indians 2, Sox 0, me under my desk.
7:27: Speechless. Leave me alone.
7:30: I said, “LEAVE ME ALONE!”
7:34: Jake Westbrook struck out the side, and that’s 29 pitches and 21 strikes in two innings. Jake, your name is Mudd.
7:41: Web headlines right now: sportsline.com: “Power Slide.” ESPN.com: “South Slide.” Foxsports.com: “No Choking matter.” Hate the Web, hate it.
7:49: Joe Crede CRUSHES A TWO-RUN SHOT TO TIE IT, 2-2! No. 18 on the year, No. 1 in my heart.
7:53: Just got a call from Cubs hand. He’s watching “Dancing With the Stars,” which reminds me that, yes, my life could be worse.
7:58: First pitch. Homer. Indians. 3-2. Didn’t even give Hawk time to get the Aflac question out.
8:15: Juan Uribe’s clutch two-out hit ties it, 3-3. Two comebacks in four innings. DO NOT DOUBT US!
8:28: Two men on for Travis Hafner, who homered last time. Here’s how anxious I am–I’m sitting on myself. Pop out.
8:30: Halfway home. I vowed not to eat tonight after oversnacking Monday. So I’m gnawing on a pencil.
8:36: Two ducks on the pond for A.J. Pierzynski, crowd’s going nuts, I’m banging myself on the counter and … groundout.
8:45: I should really be wearing my lucky batting glove.
8:49: Cubs down 4-2 in the seventh, but I can’t focus on that now.
8:56: Sox strand two more. I’m e-mailing Ozzie Guillen a picture of that little kitten hanging from the tree branch. Hang in there.
9:00: Casey Blake homers, Buehrle sits, Indians score again to lead 5-3. What’s left
of my Sox helmet is embedded in the wall.
9:04: Leave me alone. Again.
9:25: EVERETT DOUBLES! KONERKO WALKS! PIERZYNSKI DOUBLES! SAC FLY! ERROR! SOX LEAD
6-5! SCREW SUPERSTITION–I’M SLAMMING TWINKIES!
9:30: Can the Sox vote Indians reliever Bobby Howry a playoff share? It’s only right.
9:35: Somebody call James Cameron because Cliff Politte is a machine. Runners on first and third and Uribe goes deep into the hole–about 35th and Wentworth–and throws the batter out. Unreal.
9:50: Ump is stunned after taking a ball to the mask. I’ve felt like that for days.
10:02: A line drive just . . . I can’t do this . . . a line drive just went over Aaron Rowand’s head. Man on third now, there’s a grounder. It’s a … it’s a . . .
10:07: It’s a 6-6 tie.
10:15 – 10:25: Sox load the bases but get nothing. Extra innings. I can’t talk about this anymore here.
10:38: CREDE HITS HOMER NO. 2! CREDE HITS HOMER NO. 2! CREDE HITS HOMER NO. 2!
10:40: Game 3 starts . . . in less than . . . 21 hours. I’ll be counting the minutes.
SOX MAGIC NUMBER: 9
W: Hermanson (2-4) L: Riske (3-4)
HR: Clev.-A. Boone (16), C. Blake (22),
T. Hafner (28) SOX-J. Crede 2 (19)
———-
Edited by Chris Malcolm (ccmalcolm@tribune.com) and Drew Sottardi (dsottardi@tribune.com)
