How dare'st we even try to compete with this communion of saints???

The original—and much better—name of the Red Sox was the "Pilgrims," a group that, in their original incarnation, liked to refer to themselves as the "communion of saints."

Apparently, The New York Times still thinks of them that way.

Here is Billywitz on the brawl game the other night:

"But there was, lost among the testiness, some gentlemanly behavior.

"In the bottom of the sixth inning, Jackie Bradley, Jr. of the Red Sox took off from first toward second on a ground ball, just as Austin had done three innings earlier.

"As Yankees shortstop Didi Gregorius prepared to field the throw from first baseman Neil Walker, he lost his balance and fell, his legs splayed near the bag. It was a compromising position for a fielder—Gregarious leaving a rather sensitive area exposed with a runner bearing down on second.

"If Bradley, Jr. had followed Austin's lead, there is no telling the damage he might have wrought. But Bradley, Jr. slid early and directly into the bag, and though Gregorius managed to get off a throw to first from the seat of his pants. It was too late.

"'A lot of people get caught p in their emotions, whether it's the fans, the media, the players and I think they lose a sense of the game itself,' Bradley, Jr. said Thursday after batting practice.

"He continued: 'Everybody is out here trying to play the game and make a living for themselves and their families. There's no need for the extra stuff. At the end of the day you don't want anybody hurt. I was just trying to play the game the right way and that was that."

I know, right?

I'm already reduced to tears myself. All the Pilgrims, uh, Red Sox want to do is play the game the right way, and there we are, mildly nudging Brock Holt. How can we even think of being on the same field with these people???

They are gentlemen. They are saints. They are stardust. They are golden. And we—we've got to find our way back to the garden.