Game 71: Blown Saves and Great Closers

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 6, Cincinnati Red 4

Does it hurt you when Jonathan Papelbon blows a save the way it hurts me? Because it should. Third blown save of the year, thirteenth of his career; that's a lot of hurting that no one wants to have. But why does it bother me so, particularly when it's a meaningless statistic in a game that the Sox eventually won with a pair of home runs in the tenth inning? I believe - for me, anyway - it all goes back to an inferiority complex ground into me in the late 1990s.

Who is the greatest closer of our generation; one of the greatest closers of all time? Mariano Rivera, the ace in the hole, the machine, the bug bear of so many missed chances against the Yankees, coming in to slam a door that had seemed to swing open for a momentary opportunity. Jesus, this sounds like an epitaph. Anyway, without Rivera, the current generation of the Yankees / Red Sox rivalry wouldn't exist. Nothing new there, but since that generation started during my formative years, I've always wanted a Red Sox answer to the enigma of Rivera.

Fortunately, we've got one - or I like to kid myself into thinking we've got one. The Era of Papelbon is well established, and barring injury or accident or phenomenal decrease in powers, he'll be enshrined as one of the most terrifying pitchers to face when the game gets close and late: walks and hits together don't even come close to equaling total innings, runs per inning is totaled in tiny fractions, and it isn't a game if Paps doesn't strike someone out. And those are just numbers: throw in the legend of Cinco Ocho and a mystique grows. But the mystique is so fragile...and every time he blows a save, I get a little shaky. But I still have faith every time he comes out to the mound, so we're cool. Even Mariano's blown a few in his day, no?

Game 48: He's a Master, Son.

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 2, Kansas City Royals 1

Oh my puns, they are so clever. But seriously though, with the exception of one very iffy situation by Okajima, mastery was all over the pitching tonight. Masterson himself overcame the onus of having a hard act to follow, succeeding in (mostly) shutting down Kansas City in style, his funky three-quarterish arm angle delivery striking out five Royals while allowing three hits over six and a third innings. Control was a bit of a problem - witness the three wals, including the one that finally did him in - but Masterson is a ground ball pitcher, and through the ninety-one pitches he threw tonight, he got a lot of ground ball outs.

Masterson's cast of thousands relief crew did they jobs with reasonable adroitness, and Okajima's mini-meltdown in the eighth had one positive impact: Papelpon not only got to come in and do his thing to kill off the Royals' rally in the eighth, but do a full-on Cinco-Ocho freakout afterwards, looking like he was going to start breathing fire through the nostrils. Happy is the baseball fan with a lovable psychotic for a closer.

That wraps up two pretty special days of young pitchers making big splashes, but before I sign off for the evening, a word on Jason Varitek. As mentioned elsewhere, Varitek now owns the record for most no-hitters caught; a record underscored by Tek's success in coaching young pitchers to improve their games. Varitek has a direct hand in Josh Beckett's improvement last year, he called no-hitters for Buchholz and Lester, less than a year apart. Tonight he helped a young sinkerballer dominate the Royals. Are these the types of things we look for when we think Hall of Fame catcher? Is it still too early to tell, even after 11 years? Tell me your thoughts in the comments.

World Series Game 4: We Are The Champions

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 4, Colorado Rockies 3

I've paid my dues/Time after time/I've done my sentence/But committed no crime

I've been trying to figure out what to write about last night ever since Papelbon threw that final strike and leaped straight up in the air like a caricature of a celebration, as the people all around screamed and shouted for joy, as I jumped from my seat like I was shot from a gun. Three years ago, I couldn't process it all at once; bits of happy kept leaking out and I'd start grinning for no good reason. This time around, the feeling is different; I'm satisfied, like I've just eaten a good meal with a fine wine, and I'm sitting on a screen porch watching the sun go down on a warm summer evening. This Red Sox team was the team intended to win it all, with a catalyst for winning hidden like genetic coding in Pedroia's swing and Ellsbury's feet and Lowell's glove work. That catalyst finally ignited when the Sox had their backs to the wall in Game 5 of the ALCS, but looking closely you could see that ability to win everything was there from the start.

And bad mistakes/I've made a few/I've had my share of sand kicked in my face/But I've come through

As for the game itself, well...before last night, Jon Lester hadn't thrown a ball in anger about a month, a length of time that seems inconceivable in a World Series starter until you look at his opponent, Aaron Cook, who hadn't pitched since August. Lester's reputation for high-risk, five-run outings with low inning totals and high pitch counts made a loss a very real possibility, but the results were otherwise: nearly six innings of scoreless, three-hit ball, a night spoiled only by losing the plate before he departed to Terry's wonderfully quick hook. The overused Okajima might regret the placement of the pitch that Garrett Atkins smashed over the wall in left, but excellent bullpen management and the sheer awesome factor embodied by our godlike closer (no runs, two hits, three strikeouts, and three saves in four and a third innings? There is no stopping the Cinco Ocho!) meant that we can now define a "Colorado Rally" as "not quite good enough."

I've taken my bows/And my curtain calls/You brought me fame and fortuen and everything that goes with it/I thank you all

On the hitting side, there was plenty to enjoy, too. Draw first blood? Check: Ellsbury and Papi connecting in the first for a double/single combo to score Boston's last first run of 2007. Contributions from the all-pistons firing lineup? Check: solo shot from MVP Lowell, RBI single by Varitek, a .333 batting average and a .936 OPS as a team through the Fall Classic. Random off-the-bench contributions? Check: Bobby Kielty, coming off the bench to hit the home run that made the difference in one of those odd baseball events that make great trivia and stories for the grandkids ("I remember when Bobby Kielty hit that home run that won the Red Sox the championship in 2007...no one expected it to make a difference...").

But it's been no bed of roses/No pleasure cruise/I consider it a challenge before the whole human race/And I ain't gonna lose

All in all, this game, this series, and the championship with it are confirmation of the transition of the Red Sox from hard-luck underdogs or misguided over-spenders who tinkered with their winnings to winners, pure and simple. As the winter progresses and you pine again for Spring and baseball, remember: the Red Sox have a built a powerhouse in Fenway; a group of guys capable of going the distance for years to come. It's time to revel in what they've put together. GO SOX!!!

We are the champions - my friends/And we'll keep on fighting - till the end/We are the champions/We are the champions/No time for losers/'Cause we are the champions - of the world

The Rise of Cinco Ocho

Cruising around the Internets yesterday, I came across this article on Red Sox Monster that discusses Jonathan Papelbon's new nickname/on-mound persona, as taken from an interview Paps did with Fox Sports Network's Gary Tanguay. In that interview, Paps says that when he's pitching, a second personality called Cinco Ocho takes over and keeps him just on the edge of sanity so he can pitch with all of the intensity we know and love. It's a little bit crazy (especially coming from a guy with hair that looks like it recently made friends with a light socket), but as I was commenting to some coworkers yesterday after Papi's bat presentation to Vlad during the Home Run Derby, I love it when athletes step out of the public relations mold and show some personality. From (presumed) Cinco Ocho namesake Ocho Cinco (and all of the other characters Chad Johnson has developed) to the hijinks of Kevin Millar, Julian Tavarez's bowling technique and all of the weird things that make Manny be Manny, athletes that move beyond the standard lines ("we played a great game, these are a great bunch of guys, we give it our best every day") and stand above the crowd (without being jerks, anyway) are a lot more fun to watch.

So long live Cinco Ocho, especially if he can keep making hitters look goofy. Maybe he and JT Killer can start a "barely restrained psychopaths" club together. That'd build some team spirit, right?