I don't know if it's just me, but the playoffs never seem to officially start until the Sox play a game at Friendly Fenway. I mean, I watched the games in LA - or LA of Anaheim, or Anaheim in LA, or Anaheim in LA of California, United States - and came away psyched that the Sox were up 2-0, but it didn't have that playoff feel. It just felt like a road trip to the west coast. Maybe it was the fact that the glamorous LA fans were eating sushi off of asian-influenced rectangle plates instead of toting a steamed dog in one hand and a $7 Coors Light in the other. I don't know.
But the last two games in Boston were playoff baseball, 100 percent, pure and simple. Long, dramatic contests. Raw October nights, pink noses, rabid fans standing for every big pitch. My wife pinpointed it first - the chill in the air is the icing on the playoff baseball cake. You can look at the faces - of the players and the fans - and know immediately that it's time for October baseball in Boston.
With that being said, the Sox get to open the American League Championship Series in the shockingly-boring confines of Tropicana Field, where it's warm outside and the baseball is played inside. But somehow I have a feeling nothing will be able to keep the postseason emotion from smothering this series. Those with questions should refer back to the middleweight bout between Coco Crisp and the entire Rays team in late spring. Simply put - these teams don't like each other much.
But back to the Angels series. Those last two games were classic playoff showdowns. Last night the Sox squeezed out a memorably improbable victory in the most unlikely circumstances. When Jed Lowrie came to the plate, I turned to my wife and told her I had zero faith in his ability to come through. The words had barely spilled from my mouth when he turned around a Scot Shields pitch to end the series. Jed Lowrie 1, Me 0. And I couldn't be happier.
By the way, I hope others saw the Craig Sager interview with Papelbon and Masterson on TBS in the aftermath. Sager was wearing some sort of orange plaid monstrosity, but that was just the undercard. Papelbon and Masterson were grinning like they just put a flaming bag of dog stuff on Sager's porch throughout the entire interview, and just before it finished Papelbon took a champagne handoff from Mike Timlin - who had sidled up in the background - and proceeded to scream wildly and spray everyone within 30 feet with the bubbly. Classic moment.
Two other quick points:
1) Jon Lester is officially one of the 10 best pitchers in baseball. Period. Honestly, he may be Top 5, but I don't feel like thinking up a list right now. In reference to the fact that the Sox may have tossed him into a deal for Johan Santana in the off-season, Tom Caron noted in the postgame that you wouldn't trade Lester straight-up for Santana right now. And he's right. There's not a human on the planet that can hit Lester the way he's throwing right now. He climbed from feel-good story to emerging star during the regular season, but in two games against the Angels he became an ace. And that's final. As someone who completely underestimated the young lefty, I'll be the first to admit it. If I had to pick someone to pitch Game 7 of the World Series right now, it'd be Jon Lester. And it's not even a hard decision.
2) I'm not gonna lie, I'm a little scared about the Red Sox offense. With Lowell gone and Pedroia struggling, it became readily apparent that Ortiz wasn't going to see anything tasty to hit, and the rest of the lineup struggled for big hits, with the exception of Bay and Drew in the first two games. But in back-to-back games at Fenway, where the Sox historically have hit the cover off the ball, the offense fell on its face. Even the game-winner Monday night was a roller through the right side. This team is highly likeable, but be honest with yourself - a lineup that includes Jed Lowrie, Mark Kotsay and Jason Varitek (hitting the way he has this year) isn't exactly going to strike fear in a Rays staff whose confidence is sky high. Can they come through? Sure they can. But am I confident it will happen on a nightly basis? Not yet.
Thankfully, the Sox are built to win however they have to, and right now they may have to win four 3-2 grinders. But I'll take it. One thing's for sure - even if I spy some Rays fans eating crab cakes or sipping fruity drinks in the background of Games 1 or 2, I'll be on my couch, beer in one hand, dog in the other, winter hat atop my head. If it doesn't feel like playoff time in the air-conditioned, accountant's office atmosphere of Tropicana Field, it damn sure will feel like it in my living room.
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