On the Ropes

Friday night, actually early Saturday morning, I thought the Sox were in good shape. Dice-K had gone seven shutout innings; Beckett was going in Game Two in Tampa; and then they would come home to Fenway with Jon Lester for Game Three. But Beckett is clearly not himself this October, and eight runs were not enough for the Sox to win the second of two road games. And then tonight, Lester's post-season no-earned-runs streak came to a sudden halt. The Rays banged four home runs, and our bats were, for the most part, silent. So now they're down 2-1, which is obviously not an insurmountable lead, but looks that much bigger because our two stoppers aren't stopping much of anyone right now. Besides which, we don't have Schilling. Even an old Schill could find a way to even the series in Game Four. Can Wake make that knuckler dance tomorrow night? Or will the Rays pound out another four home runs?

That's the bad news. The good news is that it's hardly a cause for despair. The team was banged up all year, and still made it to the post-season. I thought last October that the most important thing for 2008 was to resign Lowell, which Theo promptly did, but then Lowell was in and out of the lineup this year, so the team had to do without. Papi, and Drew, and Beckett, and Lugo were also out for lenghty stretches, yet the team still managed to win. Lowrie gave notice that he intends to be our shortstop for the future; he and Pedroia can turn double plays for years to come. Masterson pitched well, sometimes as a starter, and later on as a dependable middle reliever. Eventually,we should be able to add Masterson and Buckholz to the rotation, giving the Sox five strong starters. So when we say, wait till next year, we can really mean it. If the Sox stay healthy next year, 2009 should be another good year.

On a cheerier note, I just finished a great book - Scotland and its Whiskies - with text by Michael Jackson, and gorgeous photos of the Highlands, of distilleries set in the most beautiful countryside, of the remote Islands like Skye and the Orkneys, of stills, and fields of barley, and streams, lochs and coastline. What an incredible coastline Scotland has. This book makes me want to drop everything I'm doing and go visit. How about spending an afternoon in the Gordon & MacPhail shop, with their incomparable collection of malts? Or how about hiking through the highlands, and ending the day by a fireplace in some little inn or pub, with a glass of Aberlour, or Macallan? How much fun would that be? Jackson's text makes the book especially enjoyable beause he combines his inexhautible love of malts with an encyclopedic knowledge of everything remotely related to scotch whisky. He knows the geology, the history, the topography; and of course, he really knows his whisky.

The boys and I have talked about how we all need to make sacrifices in these uncertain economic times; so that means fewer 18 year old drams, and more tens and twelves. But I think that's a sacrifice we all can make. And then maybe, if the rest of the world follows suit, then the prices on those older malts will stop going through up into the stratosphere. So then there's a silver lining to every cloud, right? I mean, we haven't lost an ALCS since 2003, but I don't think it will mean the end of the world. Not when there's a glass of HP 12 within arm's reach. Not when there's a date for dinner at Keen's in the coming month.