The Boston Soulmates of David Ortiz
If batting .400 would be considered Mr. October levels in the World Series, and when David Ortiz bats .800 over a half dozen pressure packed games, you are in a range that defies reality.
When you consider that Big Papi detractors (like these blogs and their smarmy writer) were disdainful of the big contract that the Sox gave to their aging designated hitter, the result is poetic justice. We have eaten so many hats this season that we will have no chapeaux left until spring training next year.
Ortiz has stuffed a sock into the pie holes of his biggest critics who now look worse than the villain in a Lassie, Come Home movie. How could anyone not love Big Papi and his amazing teammates?
It is an interesting storyline that Papi threw a big party for his teammates and families in the post-season, opening his home to inspire faith. And, how more interesting that the hero of Game 5, David Ross, did the same before the World Series.
No one had ever seen that kind of esprit de corps in major league players and never in the Red Sox teams where twenty-five cabs usually brought them to game 6 in any previous Series.
Those digging hard to find fault with the Sox and their manager’s decisions may be looking for gold in TV’s Ghost Mine. They have found only the dead spirits of Bambino curses and the legacy of former stars now in cryogenesis.
Sabermetric fans scoff at pressure-packed heroics. They disdain magical moments. They decry momentum. These silly old baseball mantras belong in the 19th century according to these wonks.
Well, so do the Red Sox beards. Looking like a bunch of Civil War generals at Gettysburg, the Red Sox are about to go to the Cathedral of Boston for one more miraculous victory in Game 6.