Having been a Red Sox fan for many years, I am conditioned to a perpetual feeling like being in a hotel room and awaiting the guy upstairs to drop his other shoe so I can finally get some sleep. Like many others, I am enured to the inevitability of disappointment, even total collapse.
And don't try to tell me that there is a lone soul on God's earth that foresaw events like these:
1. Last night, Mike Carp watched the proceedings in Tampa for about three hours, then was called upon to go to work with a bat as a pinch-hitter. So Mike (who had been released by offense-starved Seattle) merely bashed a grand slam, one of many key hits he has delivered.
2. The Red Sox plan was for Miller, Bailey and Hanrahan to be the key late-inning guys out of the bullpen. All three got TKO'd along the way, so -- out of desperation -- a 38-year old guy named Koji Uehara commenced to do a reincarnation of Mariano Rivera in his prime.
3. Ben Cherington, an understudy to departed GM Theo Epstein, fleeces the Dodgers for about $130 million, thenuses this dough to acquire over-performers like Napoli, Uehara, Carp and Victorino to transform Frankenstein into Mona Lisa.
I could go on -- 22 wins in last at bat, Daniel Nava being a dependable batsman, Middlebrooks being revived in Pawtucket -- but I won't. All I can do now is watch in awe and wait for that other shoe to drop.