If you told me the following facts before the season began - that Jon Lester would be the Red Sox' best pitcher, that the starting staff would receive critical contributions from Bartolo Colon and Paul Byrd (potentially two of the ugliest pitchers ever to don a Sox uniform, as an aside), that Jed Lowrie would have more RBI than Julio Lugo, that Manny would take his Manny show to the left coast, that Jason Varitek would be struggling to hit .220, that Kevin Youkilis would be the team's most feared power hitter, and that David Ortiz would miss the bulk of the first half with an injury - I'd probably have predicted that the Sox would finish fourth in the American League East.
Right in front of Tampa Bay.
And yet here we are with September on the horizon, with the Rays comfortably in first place and the Red Sox - despite all of the above - still in the hunt for the division and in the lead for the Wild Card.
This is why I don't go to Las Vegas.
The story of the season, of course, is Tampy Bay. The Rays have become Major League Baseball's version of political advertising - despite your best efforts to ignore them, they simply won't go away. (I'm Keith Testa, and I approve this message). But this ain't Florida. This is Red Sox Nation, where everyone is far more interested in the fact that Boston is somehow still in the hunt for a postseason berth. Considering everything they've been through - the injuries, the struggling bullpen, the Manny saga - it's a minor miracle to be within striking distance in the division at this point. It's easy, with a legion of Shaughnessys in the Boston media, to overlook that fact amid the daily battering of negativity. But the Red Sox enter the final month of the season with the lead in the race for a playoff spot. That's no small feat. Much better teams have crumbled under less adversity.
And what better way to kick off the stretch drive than with the final series ever at Yankee Stadium. (My only hope is that when they push the button to implode the stadium, someone will have forgotten that A-Rod is still in front of his locker checking his hair). One of the greatest Red Sox memories of my lifetime - the 2004 ALCS celebration - took place on that turf, almost exactly a year after one of the worst memories (if you have to ask, you're not a Sox fan). And this time the Sox have a chance, with a sweep, to all but eliminate New York from playoff contention.
To be certain, things feel different this September. Last year, I almost assumed the Red Sox were going to reach the World Series, and honestly couldn't seem to focus my attention on the playoffs until Cleveland jumped to a 3-1 lead in the ALCS. But there's much more on the line this time. The Sox are facing the very real possibility that October will start without them. And that has brought me back to the table early, salivating at the thought of more than a month of baseball in which every game is critical. This, my friends, is how it's supposed to be.
I do have my concerns. The bullpen continues to make me want to stick my head in the freezer, and the starting rotation has yet to inspire unbridled feelings of joy and happiness. As long as Josh Beckett is dealing with the phrases "tingling," "fingertips," and "elbow" in the same sentence, things aren't all sunshine and roses.
The best we can say is "We have a chance," "we" being the collective group of fans that existed long before the corporate-created Red Sox Nation moniker was adopted. And for that, I'm grateful. I'd love to offer fearless predictions, or write a column full of confident bravado, but, ultimately, I can't.
All I can do is buckle my seat belt and dial up this week's series in the Bronx and get ready for a month-long playoff push. I suggest you do the same.
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