Horror Show starts with Stephen King
Cassidy and Johnny V. scooted down to the field near the Sox dugout to watch Heidi Watney interviewing someone in pregame. Not much was happening under a chilled & blue Fenway sky.
Two young ladies pointed 15 feet away to the second row of Field Box 34. One said, “There’s Stephen King.”
Sure enough, there he was. Gigantic head skootched under a non-MLB ball cap, relaxed, chatting with his buddy.
“Wow ! I’ve got to get his autograph”, I said, knowing the wife would be pleased.
“He’s not going to sign.”, the petite, raven haired 20-something gal said. “He wouldn’t sign for us.”
Bullsheet, as El Tiante would say. I had to try.
Thinking of how to get his attention….
Stephen, my wife goes to bed with you every night. Would you sign this for her ?
Stephen, how come we don’t see you speaking at the Bookfest in D.C. ? We get stuck listening to bores like Salman Rushdie. Hey, sign this for my wife ?
Stephen…Stephen…my wife is in treatment…..would you…could you…sign this for her ?
I went legit. I tried the the Bookfest angle.
King glanced at me, “Not going to D.C.. Been there, done that.”
“Oh, I see. Would you sign this for my wife ?”
He shook me off like he was shaking off a fastball for Vlad Guerrero. He broke eye contact.
Being famous has got to be a bitch. Putting up with wife-pleasing, beer-clutching fans is a burden.
That poor rich bastard.
I did snap 2 photos of King, however. And one of the young ladies, at the prompting of Cassidy, said she’d email me a photo of herself in a bikini if I’d email her the photo of King.
I promptly lost the email address she had scribbled and pressed into my hand.
Things were off to a bad start.
Slowing twisting in the wind…upside down
Beckett struck out two and induced a grounder to Pedroia to record 3 crisp outs in the 1st.
Josh K’d Anderson on a curve. He whiffed Teixeira on a 93 mph cutter.
But, there was also a double to Figgins, a single to Hunter and walks to Vladi and Rivera – before that inning ending ground out to Dustin.
With 30 pitches to 7 Angels in the first, Beckett set the tone for an excruciatingly long game.
5 hours and 19 minutes long.
In this freakish contest, the Angels out hit us 16 to 7 while scoring just 5 times.
Platoon catcher Mike Napoli crushed two homers.
Napoli broke the tie, scoring the game winning run in the 12th inning.
Before Napoli’s first HR, the Angels had played 68 innings in the post season without one.
The Sox snapped their long winning streak in elimination games, dating back to the 2004 ALDS.
The Angels snapped an 11 game losing streak to the BoSox in the post-season.
The Angels misplayed a pop-up into a 3-run single for Ellsbury.
It was the first 3-run single in post-season history.
Beckett yielded four runs, nine hits, four walks, and struck out six in five innings. His postseason ERA nudged from 1.73 to 2.09.
The Sox did have opportunities.
They left the bases loaded in the 10th.
Dustin, Bay and Jed dotted the frame with 2 whiffs and a fly ball out.
And perhaps hardest to watch of all, Dustin went hitless again. He is 0-for-13 in three A.L.D.S. games.
Our best hitter didn’t hit.
Our post-season stud couldn’t locate.
Our hunger for the kill evaporated.
I don’t know when Stephen King checked out.
We left Fenway at 12:40 a.m.