So there I was, lounging on the couch with my dog, half-way paying attention to Kevin Cash's eighth-inning at-bat Wednesday night. Half-way paying attention, you see, because Cash's last 40 or so trips to the plate have resulted in something of a similar outcome - ugliness. Obviously nobody is expecting a 40-40 season from a back-up catcher, and he continues to do what he was brought here to do - catch Wake - but his swing hasn't exactly been drawing comparisons to Griffey, Jr. of late.
And then it happened - Cash launched, and I mean launched, a soaring homer that sailed over the Monster and pinballed off a few cars in the parking lot across Landsdowne Street. If you are going to hit your first home run in more than three years, you might as well do it in style.
In case you're counting, that's two nights in a row that a struggling catcher lifted the Red Sox to victory. Just a night earlier it was The Captain roping a single to right to plate the winning run, following up a base hit the night before that snapped an 0-for-a zillion slump. Funny how this game works - two nights in a row the Sox have sent a batter to the plate in the clutch that drew a collective groan from Red Sox Nation, and two nights in a row the scenario ended in celebration.
Which is worth mentioning. Did anyone else get the sense that the last two wins were critical? A four-run rally against the D-Backs bullpen on Tuesday and a geriatric battle between Wake and Randy Johnson that ends with a dramatic, booming, three-run homer just after Neil Diamond serenaded the crowd with Sweet Caroline. Had something of a playoff feel to it, no?
Even last year, when the Sox were steamrolling their way to their second title, I don't remember that many dramatic, last-minute moments. There were a few, of course - Drew's granny in the playoffs is an obvious one, and I can remember Ortiz hitting a walk-off against the Rays when the rightfielder ran to the wrong fence in pursuit of the ball. But there weren't many. Now, this team is starting to take on something of that 2004 feel - not in the sense of squashing 86 years of misery, of course, but in the sense that you never really feel like a game is over. Especially at Fenway.
On a side note, Cash's homer was particularly emphatic because it spoiled the effort of one Randy Johnson, he of the supreme lankiness and former Yankee-ness. He will forever be tainted in pinstripes, as far as I'm concerned. So good riddance, Big Unit. Although he will definitely be inducted into the Mullett Hall of Fame someday ...
