Miracle Payback

          Phone rings.  Tony Sherry.  “Do you mind explaining to me what’s really going on…,” he said, extremely calmly….  It had probably been only 25 minutes since he and Mrs. Tony Sherry dropped off me and the missus from dinner at Elia on Third Avenue in Brooklyn.  As expected, Tony bailed on his “I’m not eating dessert” madness and had the sorbet, and also ate half the Ek Mek that the missus and Mrs. Tony Sherry split.  We had positioned ourselves strategically in the corner where Tony and I could see the TV at the bar, although we were way in the back of the restaurant, so we weren’t having a real easy time making things out.  We could see that it wasn’t going well.  Luckily the saganaki, which, when they’re on their game at Elia comes out flaming, was providing a nice diversion.  So by the time we finished dessert (I went with the hand-pressed Greek yogurt, which, strangely, I’ve found myself completely addicted to), the damage was 6-2 Boston.  When I got home and got settled, it was 7-2 Boston in the top of the 7th, and The Ferocious Lion was up with Posada on first and two outs in the seventh.  It was getting late, both literally and figuratively.  And as I flipped around the dial a while, the missus appeared, already in her pajamas.  I flipped back to the game in time to see the Sox make the last out in the bottom of the seventh.  So up come the Yanks.  Giambino.  Boom.  Cano.  Boom.  Melky walks.  Johnny Delicious doubles.  That’s when the phone rang….

             As Tony was dropping his opening line, I was watching Private Pyle-pelbon trot in from the bullpen.  “Dude, you know what this reminds me of,” I started, “It reminds me of the Friday night game in Boston, the first game of the season, when we were coasting along and we got devastated in the eighth.  Life-devastated.  Look at the situation.  I think we were four runs up [as opposed to five, which the Sox were tonight], we coughed up a few runs late, and Torre panicked and brought in Mo early in the eighth without a contingency plan.  And if I’m not mistaken, he gave up three straight hits.  And look at this.  We’ve got two in with two on; Francona is panicking and bringing in Pyle-pelbon with no outs in the eighth.  Now all we need is the three straight hits….  I’m hanging up.”  This last part was crucial.  A key element to this win tonight was the way we played the phone.  The unwritten rule tonight amongst the boys was we had to hang up before the pitcher started the wind-up, because clearly that was bad mojo.  Jeter.  Boom (doink?).  Abreu.  Whoops.  Game tied.  Phone rings again.  Tony screaming.  I had put the phone on speaker when I answered it, just because I knew it would probably be something funny.  “What did I say?!  Please say what I just said before the pitch to Abreu!!” He was screaming, apparently in the direction of Mrs. Tony Sherry, whose voice could then be clearly heard saying, “Double off the wall.”  The missus, who at this point was scrunched up next to me on the couch, knowing she did not have permission to go to bed while she was being called into service for her renowned good-luck-charm abilities, started giggling uncontrollably.  The next voice was Tony’s.  “Double off the wall!!  I just said double off the wall!!  I just called it!!  I’m hanging up!!”  He just made it, as Allie strode to the plate.  Text message from the big boy.  “This is sick.”  Allie.  Boom.  The phone rings.  Big Joe with his boy Charlie Mule on their way back from the Mets game.  “Are you kidding me??  Me and Charlie are driving back from the Mets game and we’re listening to this.  And we’re going nuts rooting for the Yankees.”  Then I heard Charlie get on.  “Can you believe that two old Met fans are rooting for the Yankees here?  This is crazy!”  Indeed.  I wrote a text back to Acc.  “Now we have to win this game.”  And I meant it.  To lose this game after that comeback would have been far more devastating than any loss this season.  And the parallels with that Friday night game back in April were so stark.  The sheer stun value.  The in-the-bag game crawling out of the bag and running away from you.  The closer getting tagged, perhaps too early.  It was all familiar.

           I said back in April after that devastating game that the silver lining was that each team would probably get one of those, and at least the Yankees got theirs out of the way early.  And I seem to recall saying yesterday that the Yankees really haven’t dipped into their bag of miracles yet, while the Red Sox seem to have been going to the well quite often.  So there is your miracle, gentlemen.  Right on time. 

          I’m going to give credit where credit is due here, because I always dog this guy.  In the ninth, Varitek took a high strike call for strike one against Mo.  He didn’t like the call, and I don’t blame him.  It was a high strike, and if they called that on the Yankees I would have freaked out.  Varitek stepped out, and could be seen clearly saying with an exasperated look on his face, “That’s high.”  So Mo throws a ball to bring the count to 2-1, and then throws another one high, just out of the zone.  Varitek swung, obviously because he felt he had to due to the previous call, and missed.  Now it was 2-2 and he had to protect the plate.  The next pitch was a beautiful strike, and Varitek swung through it.  Out.  Now, I was expecting him to have words for home-plate ump Jim Reynolds.  He did not.  He turned to him, asked if the last pitch he swung at was in the zone, nodded his head and walked away.  Truth be told, that high strike call could have changed the game.  If that’s a ball, Varitek is 2-0 with the tying run on first with nobody out.  And he threw two more out of the zone.  Doesn’t take a magician to figure out that you would have been playing a slightly different 9th in that case.  The call changed things, and Varitek could have blamed Reynolds and threw a fit.  He didn’t.  Kudos.

           When this happened to the Yanks back in April, it really served as the catalyst that sunk them to 14 1/2 games out.  They went on to get swept in the series and dropped like a stone.  I don’t see the same fate for the Sox, but it does show you the Yanks are not afraid, and they can beat anybody.  And it was one more thing…  payback…..