Almost Live Coverage of Game 1

7:55: Good to see Stephen Tyler is either back on heroin, or did enough in 1976 so that there is a sort of residual effect. The National Anthem now starts with a "wuh-ellllllllllll" Letting Joe Perry play it...now we're talking. Can't send a Marshfield boy to do a Duxbury Man's job.

If it goes 6 games, Duxbury's Juliana Hatfield is slated to sing. If it goes 7, a little known band named 20th Maine will handle the job.

8:03: I have a sister in Missouri, and I still haven't finished goofing on her for New England's Super Bowl victory over her cowardly Rams a coupla years ago. This is either her revenge, or her nightmare continued.

8:07: Game time....

8:08: Wakefield plops on Santeria, or whatever they call him, 4 pitches. Wakefield has my favorite dream job- knuckleballer. Few can do it well, and he can throw 8 innings tonight, close the next game, and do 5.5 innings of relief in game 3. The problem is that guys like Walker can get their bats on it, and then it's batting cage time. Pool Ho is up, but Wake gets him popping. Rollen suffers the same fate, and we'll be back after this break....

8:17: Low rider Chevy commercial lead-in....almost as funny as a guy in 2004 still calling himself "Woody." I guess "Stiffy" was already taken.

8:20: Damon at the bat...he goes for 2!! Orlando tries to bunt, as unusual for Boston as a July snow. Then Woody beans our new SS, on a night we have a guy with a 54mph fastball pitching. It looks innocent, but I trust nobody named "Woody."

8:27: Just how much ass does David Ortiz kick? He just may ascend into Heaven at the end of this October. He is your Papi. Resistance is futile. He knows if you've been bad or good.

2 different ways to spell "Miller" put another run up before the Cards get out of it. 4-0.

'Bout time Alexander the Great got his own movie....

8:36: Edmonds gets one of those cheesy bunt hits, trying not to think about the fact he's down 4-0. Sanders misses a Battleship swing before Edmunds almost gets picked off on a passed ball. Catchers who can snag 102mph heaters can't adjust to the dancing knuckler- the equivalent of Dale Jr. saying "Shucks...that Gordon guy is too slow...I can't catch him."

The Cardinals immediately look to bunt with dudes on 1st and 2nd. The Sox bunted 12 times this year, while St. L seems to do it as option one. 2nd and 3rd, now...which is why they do it. 4-1 on the sacrifice fly. National League Ball clinic in progress...

Wake strikes out Coochiecoochie to escape the inning. 

What do you want to bet Pete Rose has money on tonight's game?

8:48: I enjoy seeing a Japanese player standing under the Green Monster. They ought to dangle a big Gamera out of the Monstahh seats to add to the terror.

8:50: Bellhorn gets on, with Captain Cavema-a-a-annnnnnnnn following him. Line shot to Renteria, and Orlando does the same thing to the left fielder.SuperManny gets on, and here comes Senor Octobre...

   For those of you familiar with Massachusetts geography, Ortiz looks perfectly capable of hitting one out of Fenway and into nearby Natick. Woodrow wisely walks him. He gets out of the jam, and it's time to sell Energizers.

9:00: Nanny 911 looks like it should be called Kids who need a Pimp Hand or some Ritalin.

Walker jacks one out...4-2. Great hitters can turn on that knuckler, and beat it like a lazy serf. Pool Ho suddenly looks more menacing. Full count....he hits him, at 44 mph. Rollen A Fatty comes to bat, drops 0-2, and then double plays us out of a jam.

49 degrees, 42 wind chill, 6 mph winds, 27 mph gusts, really damp and raw. Cider weather....we don't break out the cocoa unti November.

9:12: Nixon out, Mill Dog walks, Mirabelli(you know what they say about guys with big gloves, no?), who is Wakefield's spear carrier, gets us first and third, one out. The Japanese guy I goofed on seems to play the Monstahh well, something not easily done. He'll save them runs if he masters it.

A walk...bases loaded for the Speed Damon.

37 feet tall, 310 down the line. Seats added in 2003. It's the Green Monstahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Damon drives in a run....5-2.

LaRussa might be coming out to pull Woody. Tony is taking his Woody out. If the next pitcher is named, "Johnson," I may have to watch COPS for a few innings. If his name is "Hugh G. Rection," I may just take off my glasses and watch with the volume down.

9:26: Orlando abuses the guy from AAA, 6-2, bases loaded...SuperManny. Manny gets the run in, 7-2. Manny sure needed that RBI. He got none in the ALCS.

Senor Octobre, 1st and 3rd, 2 down. Who's your Papi?"I dream it, Ortiz makes it a reality" says one crowd sign. They walked him again. Millahhhhh coes to bat, bases loaded, 2 down.....side retired.

But the damage has been done...time to sell some SUVs.

Howie Long...worst Radio Shack commercial ever. Even the folks in Charlestown are laughing.

9:33: 4th inning....leadoff walk(s). 2 on, no one out. Wake is the first knuckler to start a Series game. Arroyo loosening in the pen. They got lucky with the wind...it was howling earlier.

3 straight walks, no outs. Yikes. Wakefield seems to have a small strike zone to work with. He needs a K...like the spider needs the fly. Suicide squeeze? Full count...why bother? Sac fly, error on the throw,,,2 runs score, Womack on 3rd. 7-4. The worst playing of a sac fly, E-3, that I done ever saw. Sacrifice, 7-5. St. Louis is using luck, good base-running, and spirit.

They're back in it. The Cards have all had themselves a good look at Mr. Knuckleball now, and walk #4 ends Wakefield's night. We need a white man with cornrows. Wakefield fell apart like my first car.

Glad to see the tobacco lawsuit settlement being spent to produce "Shards 'O' Glass" commercials. Whoever wrote that should be force-fed tobacco till they look like Slash.

9:48: Arroyo vs Walker....advantage, Walker. Pujols up, with a lot at stake. He grounds out, but it's 7-5, bottom of the 4th.

9:54: 1918 or not....we won the first one, which is the only one that really mattered. The Yankers got all the weak ones.

   Orlando likes to come up with the flying elbow when he slides. FOX had some fine audio of Sanders calling him on it. Orlando called him "poco pene," which means "My bad" in Spanish.

10 PM EDT: 2 leadoff walks, with the man-in-the-crowd interviews of an old drunk, an ugly kid, and a Swede. 2 fly-outs, no advance. Damon seed comes up, 2 out, 2 on. Steady 10mph wind, 90 mph heater from the pitcher. Pop out, 4th inning over. Jam escaped.

10:05: Rollen out quick, like my dog in a snowstorm. Edmonds takes tthe K train on a heater. The wind is blowing across the outfield to right, and it robs a easy fly from Trot. Sanders gets K'd like Ku Klux, and here comes the Viagra commercial...and that dude's devil horns would be hidden by a less receding hairline.

10:15: Orlando's out, no slide necessary.Ahorrible Manny spot runs, even with the Stevie Wonder song. Manny rips one off an umpire, a hard single. Dr. October comes to the plate, goes 0-2, then flies to left. Millar hits a foul ball that lands in some Townie's beer, which would win a baseball H-O-R-S-E game 9999 times out of 10000. Inning over, 7-5.

10:25: Arroyo and Womack, one down after a deep drive to right. Arroyo offered his father his own kidney, which Daddy-yo refused to take. A suitable donor was found. Arroyo was named after Charles Bronson, has a brother named Eastwood, and he K's his way to 2 down.

Arroyo throws away a tough grounder, and there's a guy on 2nd, 2 outs. Should have held it, kid...

Bronson makes stupid faces when he looks for signs...he's near-sighted, I think. Renteria up, Walker on deck, 3-3 tonight. Bronson pays the Rent, and it's 7-6.  Momentum has shifted. Walker slams it, tie game. He's walkering all over us.

Pujols is my new potential heart attack. I suddenly want a cigarette. He has DiMaggio/Williams RBI totals, but he K's.

O-O, folks.

Time to sell some AOL. The new AOL commercials blow like Tuba.

10:38: We need a bloody run. We blew a fat lead, and we need to score, like a junkie. 2 quick outs. Varitek pinch hits, leaving Pokey Reese as our backup catcher. He K's.

10:45: Timlin takes the mound. We've been sloppy, and we've paid for it with the lead. 7th inning, 7-7. Rollen leads off fly out, Edmonds hits one to SuperManny, and he...phewwwww...catches it. Colonel Sanders grounds out, and it's stretch time.

Kelly Clarkson belts out a cute God Bless America, and she has what we call a "Huge Husband Mouth." She could throat the Rally Midget, but if her and Tyler had kids, they'd look like largemouth bass.

11:00: Bellhorn on, now Damon advances him. Orlando walks, and Manuel steps up to bat. Someone named Kinko is pitching. Manny simply makes him his puto, dodges a pickle, and it's 8-7, baby!!!!!!!!!!!

Enter L'Ortiz....and a goofy looking relief pitcher..lefty on lefty. This pitcher obviously hasn't missed many meals worrying about how to pitch Ortiz. Ortiz then-  I swear- hits one so hard, it injures the man who tries to field it. 9-7. I would like to offer my condolences to the family of Womack's collarbone.

11:11: Millahhhhh goes 0-2, then pops upforout #2. We switch pitchers, while Wal-Mart tries to make more money.

11:20: It's 4:20 somewhere in the world.  Inning ends. The Polar Express looks wick-wick-whack. Cialis claims to give you "20% larger stiffies" than Viagra. There's a new X-Box hoop game that I must have.

11:30: 9-7, first man on. Bullpen warming...someone might be getting Foulked up in a minute. Embree time, my bad. Single, pinch runner pitcher (pitch runner?) nearly hurts himself when Ortiz stares at him. As the camera pans on his mother in the stands, Kieth Foulke struts in to wreck shop. Mother Foulke, her son better get some people out.

11:35: Foulke-o:clock. Single, to Manny....Yikes....play at the plate...safe. 9-8. Varitek doesn't like the call. McCarver does. 4-4 Walker steps up, looking for the jackpot. A fly hits Manny in the head, 2nd and 3rd, one out, tie game. 2 straight errors. Kids might start calling him "Abdullah"....because he's a Butcher.

11:41: Walking Pool Ho. Bases loaded, one out. Rollen pops out....huge. 2 down. Time to earn your money, Foulke. Don't Foulke this up....Edmonds at bat...heart going thumpthumpthumpthump......Stephen King looks calm, which may be a bad thing....Foulke strikes him out on an ugggggggggly pitch.

11:45: Nick Cage movie, he's stealing the Declaration of Independence. In the sequel, he travels back in time to wrestle Abraham Lincoln for theater tickets. Tavarez on the mound, defensive replacements for Cards.

   Mueller up, grounds out to a guy who lost a fight to a phone. He'd better not bean Grand Pere. Renteria mannys a ball, and Bellhorn is up with a man on. Yeti on deck.

HOME

RUNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

11-9

 

Midnight: 9th inning. No phones were injured in the Slewy dugout during the commercial. Foulke seems calm, though he's sweating on a 46 degree night with a north wind. Extra base hit down Manny Blvd.

   Holy Mackerel.

   Pop up to Mncklvwiczilkilvc....2 down.

   Cedeno....Foulke.

   Strike Threeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee