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With your feet in the air, and your head on the ground . . .


{Tuesday, October 07, 2003}


Oh, my god. That was the scariest thing I've ever seen. I was shaking, I was sick to my stomach, and I was intermittantly screaming my head off. The Red Sox took a 4-3 lead into the bottom of the ninth, but the closer, Williamson, walked the first two batters he faced. HE WALKED THE FIRST TWO BATTERS IN THE BOTTOM OF THE NINTH IN GAME FIVE WITH A ONE RUN LEAD. 5 million New Englanders were feeling dread and fear and nausea come over them. You just can't do that kind of shit and win.

Lowe came in, two days after starting game 3. Sacrifice bunt, perfectly executed, putting runners on second and third with one out. Time to intentionally walk someone to load the bases and set up the force at home and a possible double play. LOWE DIDN'T WALK HIM. He pitched to him. My stomach was doing flips. He struck him out, looking, and the crowd at Good Times ROARED. Screamed. Lost control. There was one out left to get. He didn't get it; worked the count full, and then walked Singleton. Bases Loaded. Two Outs. Bottom of the Ninth. Game Five.

I have no memory of what happened next. It's wiped clean; I don't know what the sequence of pitches was, what the count was. I just remember strike three dropping into the strikezone, the umpire pumping his fist forward emphatically to indicate the K, and the the crowd going into hysterics, throwing chairs, overturning tables, people giving high-fives and howling at the ceiling.

Mob euphoria.

What a drug.

I'm still high.

posted by Miles 9:02 AM

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