The Fenway Rules

 

What an amazing, tremendous, supercalifragilisticexpeallecdosius—or however you spell it—win for our arch-rivals from the north.  I salute them!  Now excuse me while I vomit.

You gotta hand it to those juju gods. They outdid themselves this time. After a season of tantalizing omens that this, yes, THIS might finally be the season The Dynasty What Never Was broke through...we're going to get this. Another, quasi-miraculous Boston pennant, followed by another World Series against the team that turned its back on Brooklyn.

O. Joy.

I can't let this miracle triumph go, though, without noting how once again the Olde Towne Team got an unfathomable break from the boys in blue.

No, I'm not talking about the mind-blowing break the jujus gave them on that ball Kiermaier hit. I'm talking about Randy Arozarena's game-tying hit in the bottom of the 8th, the ball that Boston's centerfielder Tiki Bar Hernandez went all out on—and missed. Randy seemed to have a triple for sure and who knows, with hurried relays and the like, maybe he dashes all the way home.

Instead, as the announcers put it, he "tripped" on this way to second. But he didn't trip. As it happened, Kyle Schwarber, the Sox' first sacker, just "happened" to be ambling across the infield at the moment Arozarena was turning on the after-burners and bumped into him. Arozarena barely made it to second, and was limping visibly.

The umps' decision? No harm, no foul.

Right.

In 55 years of watching professional baseball, I have never seen a similar play. Schwarber just happened to have got in the way? In a pig's eye.

Picture the same play in a game in Yankee Stadium, with Rizzo or Voit "accidentally" clipping the biggest hitter on the other team. I can promise you the result would be:

—The immediate ejection of Rizzo or Voit.

—Arozarena at least awarded third.

—Federal agents swarming the Stadium.

—A war crimes trial convening in The Hague.

Thing is, this is not the first time in the last 22 years that the Red Sox have received some outrageous break in a key game, despite violating timeless baseball rules.

How about Sox employees and fans openly attacking Yankees players in BOTH the 1999 and 2003 playoff series and disrupting those games—without any penalty? Or Sox 3B Bill Mueller "accidentally" getting in the way of the Athletics' Miguel Tejada rounding third in the 2003 ALDS, keeping him from scoring what would have been the run that eliminated the Carmine Hose?

(They tried this again in the 2013 Series against the Cards. That time, they didn't get away with it. Although it is interesting to note that this last night makes three times they've used this "play" in the last 15 postseasons, implying it has become a cherished part of their repertoire.)

Let's not forget the mugging of Gary Sheffield in right field by some of their fans. Or...oh yeah, the time in 2004 when their Big Papi disabled our pitcher at the same time that Varitek, clad in full tools of ignorance, slugged A-Rod—all without so much as an ejection.

Hey, I'm not even going to going into how it was that their biggest juicers never did a day of time—while ours got a year's suspension the FIRST time he was caught. Or the cheating judgement against them...that cost them a one-year managerial suspension.  Oooooh.

Am I bitter? Yes, I am bitter. Am I jealous? Yes, I am jealous.

The Boston Red Sox of this century are an incredibly well-run organization that understands the game much better than anyone running your New York Yankees. And yes, they're oh-so-cute, and yes, their park is so adorable that it (almost) makes us forget about their long history of racism that is egregious even for baseball.  

Point is, they don't need any help. I don't care how much the networks love them—and no doubt loathe the TB Rays. You have to play the game by the rules, even in Fenway Pahk.