The Morning After.

The season that (with the exception of the first dozen games or so) started out so promisingly, came to a crashing halt last night. Your average sportswriter will gleefully write about historic collapses but this season wasn't lost in September. The season was lost with the torn ligament in Daisuke's elbow and a broken back for Clay Buchholz. (Someone really ought to have warned that little girl with the stripper name about the hazards of stepping on lines.)

Now, there were some good things that happened. Josh Beckett, despite being a surly, insufferably rude jackass, pitched better than he had the previous season. With the exception of last night, Jonathan Papelbon had a good season. And Jacoby Ellsbury (it's a real shame that he's been co-opted by the fangirls and I can't like him) had a terrific season. Matt Albers pitched well until he turned back into Matt Albers. David had a pretty good year. And Freddy was a god-send.

But: Bobby Jenks was useless, except for when he was being worse than useless. Carl Crawford was disappointing. Even Adrian Gonzalez failed to live up to expectations.

Kyle Weiland pitched a lot, given what he showed. Andrew Miller had an exceptionally long leash for a guy who, at times, couldn't throw a strike to save his life. Erik Bedard was...as advertised, so you can't fault him for that.

John Lackey had another rough year. JD Drew barely played this season and wasn't very good when he did. And Kevin Youkilis gave up walking in favor of striking out.

No doubt that this was a failure. But an epic collapse? In August this club was clinging to the cliff by their bloodied fingernails and in September their nails finally snapped off and down they went.

Losing Losers Who Lose.

So. That happened.

Heh. Last night I wrote a long melancholy post about failure and losers and all sorts of sad, depressing things. Then my Internet went on the fritz and when it came back up this morning, all that was saved was: the title and So. That happened. And it seems just right.

Not Dead Yet.

When you win by eighteen runs it doesn't count for more than winning by a single run with the tying run in scoring position, so good enough boys. One can always hope, of course, for a more definitive ass-kicking of the Orioles tonight.

You, my best beloveds, are the Boston Red Sox. No reason to be ashamed of it. No reason to take pity on the Orioles. Be the Boston Red Sox. Play like the Boston Red Sox and everything will *finger crossed* *knock wood* *spin around counter-clockwise three times while hopping on your left leg* turn out alright. Hopefully.

Finish Strong.

There was a time, cabbages, when you were the best in baseball. Better than the Phillies or the Yankees, the Tigers or Texas, ages better than Tampa. Your pitching was good but, boy, could you hit. Now, I know that you've run into some injuries; Youkilis went down, you lost two-fifths of your rotation and your rather good lefty out of the 'pen, and Matt Albers turned back into, well, Matt Albers but for the most part, you held on. You dug your heels in and survived. Sadly, my little cabbages, just surviving isn't going to cut it any more: You need to win tonight and you need to win tomorrow. That's all that there is to it.

Cornered.

Back in July, this team looked like world beaters. Now? Not so much. If you're going to repeatedly lose to the Orioles, then you've got problems. Who knows? Maybe back against the wall, no choice but to win, is what this team needed. A wise man once said, "You either ride or you either die." Let's hope that this holds true.

End Game.

Alright, lads. It's hard to root for a team that melts into a quivering puddle of goo at the least sign of adversity but as much as it pains me, I continue to do it. I've tried my best to get you to win: Ignoring you? Doesn't work. I've tried lining up all of my talismans...nothing.

So let's have a frank chat: All that you have to do today is win one, just one little game. Preferably, you'd win the first game and take the pressure off of John Lackey but either game will do; the other game won't matter as much, as long as you win one.

Now, perhaps it's been so long since you've won a baseball game that you'd like a refresher on how to do it. Never fear, that's why I'm here. There's no big trick to it. It's really pretty simple. The way to win at baseball is to score more runs than the other team. There are a couple of ways that this easy-peasy little goal can be accomplished, 1. (The preferred method with Wake and Burnett pitching) Use brute force and beat the hell out of the baseball. Do not, however, swing at the first pitch until it has been established that today, the inbred-hayseed can throw a strike. 2. The second method is dicier with Wake pitching, given that he can lose it in a heartbeat and Saltalamacchia struggles to catch the damn ball, but using this method you would limit the number of runs that you allow the other team to score. Simple, right?

There was a time, not all that long ago actually, when asking this team to score more runs than the other team wouldn't have seemed like a ludicrous request and, hopefully, today it won't be. As for tomorrow? Well, who knows.

Onward.

Fine. You know, sugarplums, that the plan only works if you win, right? And if you can't beat the Orioles, then I don't really know what to tell you. We'll go to Lenny again for inspiration and hope that it's not too soon after the last time we had to use him.

No pressure, or anything, John Lackey but you've got to be a somewhat decent pitcher this evening or the whole thing will be in shambles.