And Nomar. Him, too.

That selfish guy.

That downer.

That liar.

That guy who took the money, ran off to Chicago, and left the kids crying.

It’s all bullshit, of course, and in their ink-smudged hearts, the Knights of the Keyboard know it. But Boston sportswriters are for the most part mangy, distempered, sunstruck dogs that can do nothing but bite and bite and bite. In a way you can’t even blame them. They are as much at the mercy of the long losing streak as the fans who buy their tickets at the window or pony up for NESN on cable TV. Sooner or later—maybe even this year, I haven’t given up hope, even yet I am still faithful—the Sox will win it all, and this infected boil will burst. I think all of us will be happier when it does. Certainly we will be more rational.

Later, after a quiet 4–3 loss to the Tigers:

SK: I admit it: after the third Detroit base runner reached with none out, I left the room. Simply could no longer bear to watch. And—between me and you?—a lot of this really is just daffy-horrible luck. Derek Lowe hasn’t been the only recipient, but he has surely gotten the biggest helping. Last year, the second two batters are harmless ground outs, and we’re up 1–0, Detroit batting with a runner on first and two out.

Oh, this is maddening.

Why why why did I ever let you talk me into this?

SO: I watched every dribbling, seeing-eye single. That third base runner was a ball Cabrera couldn’t get a handle on. Thank you, Defense Minister Theo. I also have no idea why Francona’s got O-Cab batting third. He’s hitting something like .100.

You’ve got to have some luck to win the close ones (and some defense, some speed, a bullpen…). In answer to your earlier query as to how we’ve done in one-run games: we’re now 7-15. Wasted a great game from Tek—an honest triple, a mammoth tater and then gunning down Carlos Pena to bail out new guy Mike Myers (really, that’s his name) in the eighth. Three runs against Detroit? That’s anemic. Come back, Big Papi!

It’s worse than maddening, and I apologize for dragging you to the death prom. My lament, as a citizen of the Nation—like an injured lover—is: why why WHY are they doing this to us?

August 7th