Only reputation is alive

By Eric Wilbur

October 15, 2008

4 minutes to read

I lost faith twice last night.

First, it happened during the Red Sox game, which was so brutally deflating, I was forced to switch over to “Fringe” in the 9 o’clock hour, a viewing that now has me finally convinced the once-hopeful “X-Files” wanna-be will remain about as formulaic as your average 60 minutes with the General Lee. (Joanna Weiss’s phenomenal takedown remains the most accurate depiction of the show to date.)

We once had high hopes for both. Now, it’s clear that each is hanging on merely thanks to past glories. JJ Abrams gave us “Alias,” and he helped bring us the wonder of “Lost” (Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse really have much more to do with it). Yet the stink-fest that was “Six Degrees,” and now this Pacey-fueled mess, have done little to deny an overall anticipation for a project with his name attached.

So too these Red Sox, down 3-1 in the ALCS to the Tampa Bay Rays, who are one win away from their first trip to the World Series. And yet …

There was ’86, you say. Remember ’04. Viva ’07.
Each time, down 3-1 in the ALCS, the Red Sox were given about as much of a shot as everyone seems to be giving them right now. The Rays are younger, hungrier, faster, and, most importantly, healthier than the defending world champs. It is the Red Sox’ starting pitching that took an early field trip to the pumpkin patch, not the fairy tale story that is the Rays. Mike Lowell is done. David Ortiz can’t find the left field wall. Jason Varitek is scuffling in what very well could be his final, pathetic days in a Boston uniform.
But, look at the history, you say. “Right where we want ‘em.”
Er…
Look, we’re not about to sit here and analyze how they did it in ’04, because to do so would take a slide ruler, an astrologist, a 12-pack of your favorite domestic, or whatever other combination of unsystematic items of your choosing. It was a two-week, gloriously bewildering span of which we are never to see the likes of ever again.
Last year it was as simple as this: Josh Beckett took the hill in Game 5.
This year, the reason they won’t win is as simple as this: Josh Beckett will take the hill in Game 6.
Down 3-1 last year to the Cleveland Indians, the Red Sox turned to Beckett, Curt Schilling, and Daisuke Matsuzaka to turn the tide, and even then, many of us had doubts they could pull it off. A year later, they turn to Dice-K (coming off arguably his best game in a Red Sox uniform in Game 1), Beckett (coming off arguably his worst), and Jon Lester. Those are nice names, no? If you haven’t paid any attention for the first four games, you’re probably looking for World Series tickets right now.
But no other team in the LCS has hit worse or pitched worse than the Red Sox, batting just .232 for the series with a — ready? — 7.17 ERA. 7.17. Sox pitching has given up twice as many runs (30 to 14) as Tampa pitching through four games, with almost a four-run differential (Rays: 3.32) in ERA. These Rays aren’t just beating their AL East rivals. They’re manhandling them.
Last year, Beckett was unhittable. This time around, he heads into a possible Game 6 start with a 16.62 ERA, topped only by Tim Wakefield’s (described as “ancient” by TBS’s caricature version of a baseball broadcaster Chip Caray) 16.87 ERA after last night’s disaster and Manny Delcarmen’s 22.50 ERA, following one of the worst one-thirds of an inning I can ever remember any pitcher having pitched.
What was just last Friday a wildly anticipated series has morphed into one we can’t wait to see end. Tampa Bay is the better team here, a statement that can hardly be denied, particularly with the Red Sox not getting any help from Lowell, and Beckett and Lester struggling against an offense that has put up nine runs or more three straight games, an ALCS record. And let’s say this since the PR-conscious players can’t: These are unquestionably the worst playoff crowds I have ever seen in Boston baseball history.
End of argument.
It was the second inning of a scoreless game on Monday, and Lester had Carl Crawford at the plate with an 0-2 count, Evan Longoria standing on first. In the past, any crowd at Fenway would be up and at them, rousing to their feet, even in the second frame of a playoff game, rooting for the strikeout. Instead, there was silence. I strained to try and hear some noisemakers in the distance, perhaps. Maybe in the depths of the bleachers where your average fan might have been able to secure a ticket. Nothing.
Fans used to be fired up for a playoff game. Now, in 2008, Fenway is a sorry state of its former self, more than ever filled with corporate America, boldfacers, and “alternative” hats there for the Jordan’s pre-game party and Neil Diamond sing-along. That’s nothing new, of course, but the way we approach buying tickets to the game, almost forced to go through some questionable practices, limits even further the possibility of someone without deep pockets from getting into the game.
But it’s even worse than all that. Aside from anything else, Fenway Park has simply become complacent, no longer hungry for the prize, but entitled.
If you weren’t already convinced of it heading into this playoff season, it’s now a thought more prevalent than ever. Fenway Park, as you knew it, is now officially dead. It pains Red Sox fans to say those words, but the ones who deny their existence are only fooling themselves into believing that the feeling and importance that being a Red Sox fan once carried with it are still alive.
The team that plays there, on the other hand, is not dead. Not yet, if only because of its prior reputation of resurgence. But it’s on the clock.
You too, JJ.