SK: I’m for Mientkiewicz, mostly because I’ve finally learned how to spell his name (actually because he’s just gotten hot at the plate). I like Curtis “The Mechanic” because I think he’s clutch and I don’t think Mendoza is…and in the end, in the pen, it’s gonna come down to the tragickal Mr. Lowe. I hope we don’t have to depend on him too much! The guy I really want to see on that roster—but may not—is the Greek God of Walks.

SO: Yup, as in last year’s division series, our fate may rest in the shaky hands of Mr. Lowe. But that’s the playoffs: maximum stress finding the weakest link.

The ALDS SOMEBODY GOT-TA PAY

The ALDS

SOMEBODY GOT-TA PAY

October 5th/ALDS Game 1

Twenty minutes before game time, the Sox announce their ALDS roster. Youk, Mientkiewicz and Leskanic made the squad. Mendoza and McCarty didn’t.

I try to take a nap before the 4:09 EDT start of the first Division Series game out in Anaheim and can’t do it. I’m not really surprised. Too many butterflies. That may sound stupid, but I’d argue there’s nothing stupid about it at all. The hell of spectating—a thing I’ve had to rediscover during several Octobers (although never enough)—is that when it comes to baseball, spectating is all I can do. The script is out of my hands.

Instead of a nap I settle for a brisk walk. I’ve got a bad hip as a result of an accident, but I ignore its protests of this unwonted late-afternoon exercise. My youngest son rescues me before it can really start to bellow, picking me up in his Jetta and taking me back to the house, where we settle with sodas, pizza, cookies and a homemade scorecard. Owen also has a crossword puzzle in which he tries (with varying degrees of success) to bury himself, admitting he can barely bring himself to watch the Angels bat, especially after the Red Sox secure a slim one-run lead on a suspect Manny Ramirez double (an E-5 Figgins on my pizza-besmirched scorecard) followed by a scratch David Ortiz single.