In the top of the seventh Bellhorn pulls up on a grounder by Kenny Lofton. Lowe gets Jeter (“Zooooooooo-lan-derrrrr!”) and Sheffield (“Juice! Juice! Juice!”), but Lofton steals second and A-Rod walks. Lowe’s pitch count is around 120, so Francona goes to Timlin, and I go to the bathroom, figuring a six-run lead is safe. It’s quiet in the bathroom, too quiet, I think, and then there’s a cheer. Then nothing. When I get out of the stall, there are maybe five guys at the long line of urinals, and I know something’s wrong.

When I sidle my way up the ramp, I check the scoreboard: Sox 9 Yanks 6.

“What happened?” I ask Trudy. “I go away for five seconds and everything goes to hell.”

“Timlin happened,” she says. “Matsui hit a grand slam.”

So it’s a game again, and the newly acquired Terry Adams (yikes) makes it even more torturous in the eighth by walking number nine hitter Enrique Wilson (now batting .215). Lofton spanks a double down the right-field line, and they have second and third with one out. Foulke comes in to face Jeter, who rips the first pitch off Foulke’s shin, and in a very un-Red-Sox-like sequence, the ball ricochets directly to the one man who can throw Jeter out: catcher Doug Mirabelli. Mirabelli even has time to glance at third, then guns it to first. The ball hits Jeter in the shoulder and rolls into right.

Wendelstedt is on the play immediately, waving both arms to one side, like a football ref signaling a field-goal try wide right. It’s interference: Jeter’s out for running to the infield side of the baseline, purposely trying to block the throw. The runners have to return to their bases.

“It’s the Ghost of Ed Armbrister,” I say, conjuring up another demon to be exorcised.

Joe Torre pads out to argue, but it’s pointless. Jeter the Cheater finally got busted; the Sox finally got a call, and just in time too.

Sheffield’s up next, and smokes a hooking line drive—right to Manny, and we’re out of it.

Foulke throws a quick one-two-three ninth, the crowd on its feet for every pitch. It’s another big win, and after last night, maybe the start of the turnaround we’ve been waiting for. We’re 8-4 against the Yanks on the year and back in front in the wild card, with Pedro going tomorrow. Let’s go Sox!

July 26th