Deja 'Tiz All Over Again

Since Jesus has left the building for these playoffs, I guess we're forced to reach back into the O.T. for some King David references. Or we could just rewrite the books, in particular the history books, because on the 471st pitch, Mr. Octizzle rose again.

There's so much out there to read, so I won't rehash that stuff, but here's a couple things I didn't see elsewhere:

No one seems to have noticed, but Terry Francona actually tried to Grady Little us in the 6th inning last night. I couldn't believe my eyes, after a month of saying "no way does Francona not learn from last year, from this September. He'll pull Pedro when he's done." Boy was I wrong. Amazingly, though, it didn't work. With Pedro, after relinquishing the lead for what would most likely be the last time ever in a Red Sox uniform, pitching to Hideki "Sox Slayer" Matsui, the 2004 season was absolutely, 100%, no doubt about it over. O-V-A. But all of a sudden, it wasn't. Pedro jogging off the mound, score still 4-2. It was at that point I knew the game was in the bag, and game seven didn't seem so far away.

How about the Fox announcers inexplicably ignoring all the Big Papí signs? Did they really have no idea what that was about? Were they perhaps afraid to attempt to pronounce "papí" without Jon Miller around to help? After game two, where nary a half inning went by without mentioning the who's your daddy thing, Fox Sports just upped their hacktackularity to levels almost approaching their cable news department. I heard on the postgame interview with Pedro on the radio a reporter ask what papí meant, to which Pedro, of all people, chuckled and said "it means daddy."

One hundred pages of praise for the Sox bullpen still wouldn't be enough. Em says "If there were one guy on this team I would marry it would be Trot Nixon. But if I were Mormon and I could marry two guys the other would be Tim Wakefield." Exactly.

And here's your Bill Simmons for today.

I tape all these games, starting with the 20 minute Fox pregame. Video tapes, on their longest setting, are six hours long. Last night, while I was out at Em's house watching the game, my tape reached the end of its run on the third pitch to Ortiz in the 14th. I'm pissed about that. And speaking of that at bat, apparently I blacked out during it because I had no idea that Papí saw 10 pitches, fouling most of them off. I don't remember a thing except Johnny throwing his helmet after scoring the winning run. Maybe I was just exhausted, since 10pm felt like 2am. I don't know how these guys are playing, I can't barely watch!

Barring a rainout, see you tonight. Start spreading the news. And BELIEVE.