The Boston Red Sox were unceremoniously swept by the Kansas City Royals last Sunday and in writing the recap of that giant suck-fest, I happened to mention something about how the Sox were kicking the crap out of the Oakland A’s and holy crap, I almost jinxed their win. Whoa…that was scary. So I’m been keeping my mouth shut this week and trying not to gloat too much about things like the Red Sox currently having the best record in baseball. But I don’t often get to gloat about best records, so I’m officially gloating…if only for a short time.

It’s been quite a week for the Red Sox—since the double crappy loss on Sunday, they’ve gone 6-1 and welcomed the Houston Astros to the American League with a good ol’ four-game sweep. That’s what you call Boston Strong, people!

Monday, April 22: Red Sox 9 : A’s 6
Felix Doubront pitched 6.2 innings, giving up just three earned runs and striking out eight to earn his second win of the season. The Sox offense exploded for five runs in the 5th, capped by a Mike Napoli grand slam. The A’s mounted a comeback with three runs in the 8th, but it was too little, too late…thankfully!

Tuesday, April 23: Red Sox 0 : A’s 13
The only loss of the week and boy was it a doozy. Alfredo Aceves was shelled for eight runs on seven hits and four walks in just 3.1 innings of work. He was demoted to Triple-A Pawtucket shortly after the game. Don’t let the door hit you the ass, you crazy whacko. Despite the loss, his demotion was a highlight for me.

Wednesday, April 24: Red Sox 6 : A’s 5
It’s nice to see the Sox able to bounce back for a win after such a humiliating loss. Jon Lester pitched well enough for his fourth win of the season, helped by two three-run innings, which turned out to be just enough run support. Andrew Bailey came in and struck out the side in the 9th for his fifth save.

Thursday, April 25: Red Sox 7 : Astros 2
Clay Buchholz continued his tear, winning his fifth game with a 7.2 inning, five strike out performance. He did allow two earned runs which raised his ERA to a whopping 1.19. The Sox offense jumped on the Astros pitching early, scoring four runs in the 1st inning. David Ortiz hit his first home run of 2013 in the 3rd inning.

Friday, April 26: Red Sox 7 : Astros 3
Ryan Dempster finally gets his first win in a Red Sox uniform. It’s not like he hasn’t pitched well before, just wasn’t getting the support. He definitely got support in this game—in the form of the long ball. David Ross hit two home runs, Will Middlebrooks whacked his sixth, and David Ortiz launched his second in as many nights.

Saturday, April 27: Red Sox 8 : Astros 4
Not to be out-shined by Lester and Buchholz, Felix Doubront notched his third win. The Astros got close in this game, scoring one in the top of the 7th to bring them to within two, but the Red Sox would have none of it and scored three in the bottom of that inning to secure the win.

Sunday, April 28: Red Sox 6 : Astros 1
John Lackey’s return from his recent stint on the DL was celebrated with his first win of 2013. He pitched six innings on one-run ball and showed no signs of the bicep strain that knocked him out on April 6th. Ortiz, Daniel Nava and Mike Carp all had 2-hit games to spark the offense. Bailey earned his sixth save which was highlighted by a spectacular diving catch by Nava to end the game.

Can’t every week be like this one? After a well-deserved day off tomorrow, the Sox head north to Toronto for a three game series. Jon Lester is scheduled to start and will have the chance to catch Buchholz in the five win club.

As awesome as the Red Sox and Fenway Park were on Saturday, Sunday was the complete opposite. With Friday night’s game cancelled because that terrorist maggot still at large, a day/night double header with the Kansas City Royals was on the schedule for Sunday. And while the Sox aimed to keep their current winning streak on track, the Royals had other plans. Unfortunately, the Royals prevailed. Bastids.

When I heard about what Jonny Gomes had done for the game—engraving the names of the three victims killed in Monday’s attack and slain MIT officer, Sean Collier into his bat for the first game, I thought there was really no way the Red Sox could lose at least this one. I figured the bat had to be magic. Unfortunately, I was sadly mistaken.

Game 1: Red Sox 2 : Royals 4
Ryan Dempster was thwarted in his attempt to win his first game in a Red Sox uniform by one stupid 4th inning. The home team hopped out to a quick 2-1 lead by the bottom of the 1st, but unfortunately, those would be the only runs they would score all day. Ervin Santana kept the Sox bats relatively quiet all afternoon—scattering eight hits, three of those by David Ortiz.

It’s not like the Sox couldn’t get guys on base. I mean eight hits is eight hits. They just couldn’t get those guys home, successful plating just one of seven runners in scoring position. Oh well, can’t win ‘em all I guess…although it would’ve been nice if that seven game winning streak went just a few more. For Boston, you know. Click here for the sort of really boring box score.

Game 2: Red Sox 4 : Royals 5 (10 innings)
This loss was especially hard to swallow. Mainly because newly promoted Allen Webster had such a solid start—six innings, five hits, two earned runs and five strikeouts—not too shabby for a 23-year-old making his major league pitching debut. He took a no decision.

The Sox had a 4-3 lead going into the eight inning and seemed to be steaming right along with the ever so reliable bullpen taking over for Webster. Koji Uehara, who had yet to give up an earned run this season, served up an 89 mph fastball that Billy Butler lost over the centerfield wall. Game tied. It would stay that way until the top of the 10th when Andrew Miller fell completely apart—and by fell completely apart, I mean he walked in the winning run. AAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH! Click here for the frustrating box score, courtesy of the Red Sox.

At least the Sox seem to have snapped out of their current skid for the moment and are presently kicking the crap out of the Oakland A’s. Go Sox!

Here in Boston, Fenway Park was the place to be on Saturday.  37,000 fans, crammed into the old wooden seats, the narrow walkways, and the cavernous green concourses bordered by a bright spring sky.  37,000 fans erupted during a pregame ceremony for the ages, applauding until they were hoarse for the first responders, the government leaders, and the victims that have become part of our world this week.  Yelling into the beautiful expanse of baseball diamond, shouting out names and “thank you”s and singing the national anthem.  Cheering loudly for, well, the chance to cheer loudly.

“This is our fucking city,” David Ortiz told us on the day of his return to the lineup.  He told us that, we loved it, and the Sox won on a majestic Daniel Nava three-run homer.  You couldn’t have written a movie script any better.

It must have felt incredibly liberating to be at Fenway on Saturday, to be loud and out in the open, to be obvious and unafraid and within arm’s reach of so many others who were within arm’s reach of you, because Friday in Boston was the opposite.  As the SWAT teams and the bomb-sniffing dogs and the endless, endless lines of police cruisers patrolled Watertown, Boston, Cambridge and surrounding communities, we were all – every single one of us – subject to an order to stay inside, draw your shades, and not open the door for anyone but “a properly-identified law enforcement officer.”

Ask yourself this: what do you do when you wake up on a Friday morning to what feels like a dream – a really screwed up, bizarre, barely believable dream?  When you wake up already thinking about the motions and phone calls and emails and to-dos that stand between you and the end of the work week, and your wife, who has bags under her eyes from tracking the news all night, tells you that “they found them, well, they’re chasing them, well, one of them’s already dead, they’re from Chechnya! They robbed that 7-11 in Central Square, you know the one, and then they shot a cop at MIT, and then they carjacked this SUV and drove it to Watertown and then they got in a shootout and one of them, Black Hat, was killed, and now they’re looking for the other one – White Hat.”

Imagine waking up to that.  Here’s what I know about Watertown: there are batting cages there, near that huge five-way intersection (you know the one) that scares the daylights out of drivers without the guts and steely reserve that Boston requires.  My slow-pitch team rents out the cages this time of year to get ready for our season.  There’s a decent pizza place up the street from the batting cages, kind of across from the Starbucks.  There’s a Home Depot and a Target there, that we cruise through the baby aisle at regularly.

Here’s what you do when you wake up on a Friday morning to that kind of onslaught.  You throw on sweats and a hoodie, make some coffee, and you glue yourself to the TV showing police and army guys and reporters swarming all over the town that you identify with cases of inexpensive baby wipes and smelly ill-fitting mandatory batting helmets.  You watch all day, you speculate, you honestly get a little bored with the lack of developments.  You read your book, you thumb through your magazines.  You clean the kitchen while listening to the radio so you don’t miss anything.  You fold laundry.  You scuttle around the immediate neighborhood with the dog, who’s acting like she really has to pee, but you peer around corners, stay off main roads, and keep your cell phone on its loudest volume in case your wife calls to tell you that now they think the bomber’s in the few square miles you call your own and you should run home.  All the dog did outside was eat grass, you complain when you get back – I’m standing there in plain sight, wearing a bright yellow “Boston Strong” t-shirt, even, when there’s a lunatic running around town planning god knows what, and we’re all supposed to be inside, and the dog wants to eat grass?  You look out the window whenever you hear a car engine or a siren – it’s a police cruiser, it’s an ambulance that sounds like it’s headed towards the hospital, it’s an ice cream truck?  Why is there an ice cream truck out today?

That’s why Fenway was such a beautiful sight on Saturday.  On Friday, this city was not ours.  On Friday, this city was Tsarnaev’s.  We can talk about how Friday’s shelter order was a key measure in tactical strategy and public safety that let law enforcement do its work, and that our cooperation was a show of solidarity and defiance that proved we’d already won.  We can talk about that (it feels pretty good to write it).  But the other side of that is, I was scared because my dog was taking too long to enjoy her loop around the deserted neighborhood.  I was appalled that an ice cream truck would even think to drive down my street.  I was listening to sirens and watching repetitive, unchanging news reports telling me things I already knew and questioning whether my neighbor should really let her six-year-old play in the front yard.  On Friday, this city wasn’t mine.  On Friday, this neighborhood wasn’t mine.  On Friday, this block wasn’t even mine.

Was this all an overreaction?  Looking back, maybe – probably, even.  It’s easy to feel silly for rushing your exuberant, galumphing, just-happy-to-be-here dog around corners and keeping your shades drawn and double-checking your locks when, it turns out that the entire time, Tsarnaev was hiding.  He was trapped and bleeding and slowly running out of will, in a boat high and dry in a backyard in Watertown.  The whole time, this kid was stuck a good six miles away and only a block or two from what was probably the biggest assembly of troops in the area since the very Lexington and Concord that the Marathon itself celebrates.  I mean, that sounds silly.  The guy – the boy, mind you, the teenager – that held this entire area breathless in the palm of his hand all day, that stopped the T, that shuttered downtown, that kept cars off the road and children inside – he was trapped, hiding, cowering, out of options and marooned in a boat on dry land.

But, silly as it may be, it was true at the time.  For one day – a beautiful, warm, sunny, tempting day – this was Tsarnaev’s city.  But, it’s not anymore.  “This is our fucking city,” David Ortiz proclaimed to the packed crowd, the busy field, the American flag hanging off the Monster at Fenway on Saturday, and he was so right, so perfectly on-point, that the FCC isn’t even going to fine anybody.  This is our city again, our fucking city.  It felt good to be able to let the dog sniff around and roll in the grass and maybe even chase a few squirrels for good measure yesterday; it felt good to have breakfast at this great, crowded, loud neighborhood spot this morning; it will feel good to grab my wallet and chase down the next ice cream truck i see (be honest, who doesn’t love the ice cream truck?).  This is our city again – Ortiz said it, and Fenway proved him right on Saturday.

To say that Boston can now return to normal would be wrong. Even after yesterday’s apprehension of both suspects—one dead, one in custody—in last Monday’s Marathon tragedy, it’s still a city in mourning. Things have not returned to normal—especially for the families of the deceased, and the victims still recovering in the area hospitals. For the victims, normal will never be the same.

The Boston Red Sox left Boston in the midst of the melee, heading out to Cleveland for a three game series. Each and every player worried about the city they left behind, the city they call home—at least this year. A Red Sox away jersey with the number 617 and the battle cry of Boston Strong hung in support in the dugout. And when the city needed a little pick-me-up in the midst of all trauma, the Red Sox came through for their fans with a sweep of the Indians.

It was their first meeting with former manager Terry Francona and boy did they show him just how strong Boston’s spirit is (as if he didn’t know.) After winning handily on Tuesday night behind Felix Doubront, you had to wonder how they could keep it up with the weight of a city on their shoulders. But they did.

Wednesday’s game 2 of the series saw the Sox quickly going up 3-0 in the first, staking Alfredo Aceves to a lead before he even took the mound. They pounded out 15 hits on route to their 6-3 win with 3-hit games from Jacoby Ellsbury and Shane Victorino—both also scoring two runs each. More importantly, they were able to prove Indians’ pitcher Justin Masterson is human. Click here for the box score.

The series finale on Thursday ended with the same score, 6-3 on the back of another stellar performance from Jon Lester for this third win. The game was a real nail biter until the Sox broke it open in the 7th inning with single by Jacoby Ellsbury and an error allowing Shane Victorino to reach. After a fly out by Dustin Pedroia, Mike Napoli singled to right field to drive Ellsbury home, and Daniel Nava plated Victorino with a sac fly. Pinch-hitter Mike Carp singled to right to score Napoli and give the Sox a safe lead they would never give up. Click here for the box score, courtesy of the Red Sox.

After yesterday’s madness and the Red Sox and Royals getting postponed, they’re back in action this afternoon with Clay Buchholz looking for his AL leading 4th win.

Let’s go Red Sox, let’s go!!

First, a personal note: thank you, everyone, for reading my post on the Boston Marathon.  I never expected that so many people would see that post, and I feel honored that so many of you read it, shared it, and found something in it.  Things are still very raw in Boston, but the city’s also starting to pick itself up, dust itself off, and get back to business.

Speaking of getting back to business, we have a few Red Sox games to catch up on.  The Sox beat Tampa Bay on Monday in a true Patriots Day classic, and then proved their mettle against Terry Francona’s Indians for the first time yesterday.

The Patriots Day game is fun and unique, because it starts at 11:00 a.m.  You literally wake up, get dressed, and go straight to Fenway.  But, the fact that Patriots Day is always the third Monday in April portends a mixed bag on two fronts: weather, and early-season shaking the rust off.  Monday’s weather was beautiful, but I went to a Patriots Day game a few years ago (I don’t know which year – Josh Beckett pitching, playing the Angels, Manny was in the lineup) wearing my snowboarding gear, including a hat and gloves.  I had thought about bringing my goggles, decided not to, and then regretted it – good times!

Along with the weather, Monday’s game was also one of the good ones.  Ryan Dempster – RYAN DEMPSTER, folks – spun a gem, holding the Rays to one run and two hits through seven innings of work.  The former National Leaguer (I point that out because National League pitchers are not known for adjusting well to the American League, so this is an interesting and heartening development) struck out ten batters and only walked two.

Andrew Bailey picked up closing duties for the injured Joel Hanrahan, but he promptly blew the one-run save when he let Desmond Jennings on, and then let him steal second, and then let Ben Zobrist drive him home with a line drive to left field.  Oops.  It’s sad that this doesn’t surprise me – Bailey had such a clunker of a debut in Boston, that you can’t help but think that maybe his closer mentality’s gone.

Anyway, bottom of the ninth, Dustin Pedroia on first, tie game: Mike Napoli’s swing was horrible, but he managed to ding the ball off the Monster to score Pedroia and win the game for the Sox.  Pedroia and Napoli, Napoli and Pedroia: I picture them getting together after the game to be gritty and unshaven and clutchy together.

Tuesday’s game was more somber – the Sox traveled to Cleveland to oppose Francona for the first time since he left Boston.  Cleveland played “Sweet Caroline” during warmups (New York, which nobody ever accused of not having class, played it in the third inning).  Cleveland also held a moment of silence, after which the Red Sox bats made some noise.  Boston scored seven runs in the second inning (double, three walks, sac fly, single, walk, walk), putting the game out of reach.

It’s nice to think that the Sox are playing with the city on their minds – that they’re somehow playing for us, that they’re thinking of us when they dig in.  Boston needs something happy and joyous, and when baseball’s played right, in that ethereal, balletic way, it’s the very personification of joy, of the human capacity to be perfect for a brief moment in time.  But while the city needs the joy that comes from the perfect double play, the lope across the outfield grass, the uncoiling of a bat against a ball (PS: Mike Napoli’s double on Monday – you’re doing it wrong), the city also needs to not have that joy be a condition of grief.

Joy as a condition of grief: what I mean by that is, baseball will help this city heal.  The Red Sox can – and should, and do – acknowledge the city’s grief.  But instead of focusing on the tears, and the hurt and the uneasiness you feel when you notice a SWAT team on the corner of your street or when you step off the T to a phalanx of soldiers with assault rifles, the Sox are in the unique position of being able to help the city find joy again.  Very few things, we’ve learned, unite this city like an attack on one of its institutions.  Another one of its institutions has a chance to unite this city in joy, not in grief.  It sounds so simple: that baseball, the same simple game that’s always been there, can suddenly help us all handle this monumental obstacle that’s been put, unwillingly and unwelcomed, in front of us.  But, it can.

The Sox are winning games because they’re playing good baseball that, for short bursts, is perfect baseball.  That’s enough to help the city start to heal – play well, let spring turn into summer, let nights at Fenway be the place to be again, and smile in the dugout.  Let’s be happy about something as pure as baseball.  Let’s enjoy those small, sweet moments of perfection while they last.

Two things strike me about this picture.

The first thing I notice is how happy I look.  This is me with my eight-month old daughter.  We’re standing near the finish line of today’s Boston Marathon route watching the elite runners go by.  She’s at that point where anything in her wingspan – hair, necklaces, or in this case, my very expensive and entirely off-limits sunglasses – is fair game.  She swipes, she grabs, she twists, she mouths, and she leaves an impressive swath of destruction, only more so when you consider the fact that she only weighs 17 pounds and can’t even crawl yet.

What’s not to be happy about?  It’s a sunny April day in Boston – too warm for a jacket, too cold for short sleeves.  We’re pretty sure it’s not going to snow again this year.  It’s a Monday morning, and I’m not at work – it’s Patriots Day, the commemoration of the battles at Lexington and Concord.  The Red Sox play in the morning, the police look the other way as college kids run wild from one bar to the next along the route, and everyone bursts with pride in this awesome, amazing city and its pivotal place in this nation’s history.  You run into friends, you stop and say hi, you promise to grab a drink soon, and you really mean it.  And, did I mention, it’s a Monday morning and I’m not at work?

The second thing that strikes me about this picture, and the dozen more that I have on my camera, is that I should probably email them to the Boston Police Department.  The BPD is asking people that took pictures of the area where the bombs went off to send them in.  I stood in this spot for three hours with my wife and our daughter today.  An hour after we left (the baby got fussy and I had to head to my office for the afternoon, which I complained about at the time), the second explosion ripped through that same spot.  That exact spot.  If you look at the picture on Twitter showing both explosions, there’s a blue flag hanging above the second one.  We were standing right under that blue flag – the baby was obsessed, and kept craning her neck up to look at it.

While we were cheering the runners, one man stopped on the course right in front of us.  He was exhausted.  Completely done.  His right calf had cramped up, and he was having trouble just staying upright.  We couldn’t have that happen, though, not when he had run all the way to the last block of Boylston Street from some mysterious town named Hopkinton all the way out in the ether past 128.  The crowd cheered him on.  “Go!”  I encouraged him, joining the chorus.  “Run!  You can do it!”  (I also demanded that the third-place woman “run harder!” – I thought she could catch the woman in second.  I apologize).  The man took a moment, and started to walk.  He tried a couple of exploratory jogs, and then he started to run towards the finish.  He looked back at us, the strangers that helped him, and smiled.  We waved and cheered until he was out of view.

That’s kind of the awesome thing about a marathon.  You can train hard and eat right and break in your shoes just so, and you can, in theory, complete a 26.2 mile race.  But to really, truly, be able to finish a marathon, you need help.  You need support.  You need people to cheer for you and urge you on and give you hope.  That’s where the crowd comes in.  We will cheer you on while feeling inadequate at how fit you are.  We will clap for you and yell your name, even if we’ve never met you.  We will watch you tear around the same city streets that we work on, shop on, walk down each day: we will take pride in knowing that the Boston route, our city’s route, with its Heartbreak Hill and its wind in your face and its relentless easterly pace is designed to beat you, and we will cheer you on and ask you to win the fight and make this city your own the same way we have.

We’ll give you hope along the way – the Wellesley scream tunnel, the Citgo sign in Kenmore Square, and the iconic “right on Hereford, left on Boylston” that opens up on two breathtaking walls of spectators and a finish line that suddenly doesn’t seem that far.  But, you have to battle through the heartbreak and the wind in your face to get to make that right on Hereford, left on Boylston.

I think that the Boston route, in a lot of way, mirrors the city itself.  I wasn’t born in Boston, or even in Massachusetts.  I didn’t grow up here, and I hadn’t spent more than a day in the city before I decided to move here for law school ten years ago.  I had no connections to this place, but I sensed something about this city and its people when I decided to pack up my car and head east: that if you wanted to live in this city and get to know these people and truly call this place your home, you had to earn it.  And, I sensed that “earning it” would be hard, but it would be worth it.  Boston is not a sterile city, or an easy city: it’s old, with narrow roads and an incomprehensible street map.  It’s fractured, between neighborhoods, socioeconomic class, and race.  The families that have lived here forever are suspicious of the families that just moved in, and vice versa.  We’re all strangers, and we don’t know each other.  We like it that way, almost – when people are too friendly, it kind of freaks us out.

We’re all strangers and we don’t know each other, except for that we do: we come together and cheer for those among us who brave the heartbreak and the wind and the run towards the sun.  We root them on, we watch them win the fight, and we call them our own.  If they fall, we pick them up; if they come back from three down to beat the Yankees and win the ALCS in seven games, we pronounce them heroes and leave notes on our grandparents’ graves letting them know the Sox finally won the World Series.  If they need help getting down one more block of Boylston Street, we throw our voices behind them and push them towards the finish.  They’ve earned it.

When I finally got home tonight and turned on the news, one of the first images I saw was of a mother and two boys on a golf cart being driven to a hospital for injuries that were obvious on the television screen.  That family – that mother who had asked me to let her know when the runners got over Heartbreak Hill, and her two boys who wormed their way to the front of the crowd in time to watch the elite women battle it out – they were standing right next to us.  I don’t think they were from around here: the mother didn’t seem to know exactly where Boston College was when I told her that’s where the runners were.

But I’m from around here, or at least, I live here (I think I’m still earning it).  I call Boston my home, and I’ll be back at the marathon next year.  We’re at the bottom of Heartbreak Hill, the wind’s in our face, and we’re staring down 26.2 miles of easterly migration: but we’ll get to the scream tunnel, we’ll see the Citgo sign, and if we just stick with it and give each other hope, we’ll get to make our right on Hereford, left on Boylston again, and open up onto a cheering crowd and a finish line that’s not that far away after all.

After the rainout on Friday night, the Boston Red Sox took a take no prisoners approach to the rest of the weekend against the Tampa Bay Rays. So far, I am loving this team. Check in with me again around the All-Star break to see if my feelings have changed, but there’s a spark here I haven’t seen in a long time. Maybe since 2004.

Saturday afternoon we saw Sox ace Jon Lester matching up against the Ray’s ace, David Price. And just as presumed, a pitchers’ duel ensued. Both starters gave up just a single run in their outings but the Sox came out on top in extra frames. Following a Jarod Saltalamacchia strikeout to open the bottom of the 10th, Jacoby Ellsbury singled to center. With Shane Victorino at the plate, Ellsbury stole second and took third on a crappy throw by the Rays’ catcher.

Rays’ manager Joe Maddon then pulled in an outfielder to give them five guys covering the infield. Is this the baseball version of pulling the goalie? Even with nearly every inch of the dirt covered, Victorino was able to ground the ball to a spot where the shortstop had to dive for it. Ellsbury scored on the play giving the Sox the 2-1 victory! Click here for the box.

Sunday afternoon’s game saw starting pitcher, Clay Buchholz, flirt with a no-hitter, stymying the Rays batters through seven innings. Buchholz pitched masterfully, giving up just two hits in eight innings and striking out 11. He has improved to 3-0 with a stingy 0.41 ERA. I would’ve figured these numbers would sit him alone atop the AL in the pitching category. I was wrong. He shared the same record and ERA with old Sox friend, Justin Masterson.

The Red Sox scored most of their runs in the third inning when Ellsbury, Victorino and Dustin Pedroia all singled to load the bases. Mike Napoli smashed a double to the triangle in center to score the first two runs. Two more scored on a ground out by Stephen Drew and a throwing error. Click here for the box—courtesy of the Red Sox.

Next up for the Red Sox, they attempt to close out a sweep of the Rays with the annual Patriots Day 11:05am start. Ryan Dempster (0-1, 3.60), still searching for his first win in a Sox uniform, will take on Jeremy Hellickson (0-1, 6.35). Tomorrow is also Jackie Robinson Day—when everyone wears #42!

The Boston Red Sox have been a lot like the weather this week… they began their 2013 home schedule with an Opening Day win on a beautiful, bright blue day. But as the days have progressively gotten crappier and colder, so has their play. Maybe this year, we here at Fenway Fatales can just pretend that the games the Sox lose don’t really happen. I hate writing about losses.

Wednesday, April 10: Red Sox 5 : Orioles 8
Grrrrrrr… When I fell asleep, it was 5-3 good guys. When I woke up, it was not. After back-to-back homers by Daniel Nava and Jarod Saltalamacchia in the bottom of the 6th to put the Sox up by two, I thought the bullpen had this one in the bag. Especially considering their short history so far this season. Joel Hanrahan had other plans that basically consisted of sucking. Hanrahan blew the save and gave up five runs in the ninth—including two home runs. FYI, his ERA is currently 11.57. Gross.

Thursday, April 11: Red Sox 2 : Orioles 3
Last night’s loss was a result of not much offense. It’s hard to win without offense. Alfredo Aceves held his own in a spot start while John Lackey is on the 15-day DL allowing just two runs. But the Sox just couldn’t pull themselves together at the plate to get him much run support and the Orioles scored one late in the game to put themselves ahead for good. At least we didn’t have to witness a tragedy like the previous night… but it still isn’t easy to accept.

Friday, April 12: Red Sox : Tampa Bay Rays – Rained Out
Dear Mother Nature, I’m not sure if you’ve looked at the calendar lately, but it’s April 12th and, well, it shouldn’t be 31 degrees and snowing on my drive home. Snow in April just sucks. Do you have no sympathy for the poor daffodils that have already peaked their delicate heads up through the ground? Do you not like daffodils? Not cool, Mother Nature, not cool.

Next up on the schedule, the Red Sox and Rays will try again tomorrow at 1:05pm. A battle of the Aces is on the docket. Jon Lester will go for his third win, while David Price looks for his first.

The Boston Red Sox currently have the longest sellout streak in professional sports history… but most likely, not for much longer. The Sox believe that tonight’s game against the Balitmore Orioles will end the run of selling out 820 consecutive games at Fenway Park.

Granted, a sellout at Fenway is much smaller than say a sellout at, say, someplace like Yankee Stadium. The last few years, Fenway tops out at around 37,000 for maximum capacity. Yankee Stadium holds just over 50,000. Then consider all the scalpers and tickets outlets and there’s barely a ticket to be had at face value for your average fan.

We all knew it was going to happen, it was just a matter of when. And sadly, it appears tonight is the night. There comes a point where the organization realizes that the failures over the past couple of seasons would eventually haunt them. Fans can only take so much abuse, and the 2012 season was like never ending Chinese water torture.

The sellout streak lasted almost a full 10 years. The 820 games, which includes the postseason, broke the previous record of 814 set by the NBA’s Portland Trail Blazers late last season. Their streak of 794 regular season sellouts is also the longest in pro sports, crushing the previous mark of 455 set by the Cleveland Indians from 1995-2001.

“When we were playing, I think we just expected it [to be sold out] every night,” said former Sox knuckleballer Tim Wakefield. “Winning really sells seats, too. So we had some great runs there in the early 2000s until I retired. I’m just proud to be a part of it.”

At least the streak finished the way it started—with a win. The Sox beat the Texas Rangers 12-3 on May 15, 2003 to begin the streak, and ended it with a 3-1 home opener win over the Orioles on April 8, 2013. The Red Sox won two American League pennants and two World Series Championships during the nearly 10 year run.

So what do you say, Red Sox? Let’s start another streak next week!

Committing to going to a baseball game in April is a lot like playing weather roulette. It could either be 40 degrees with a 30 mph wind like it was this past Saturday… or it could be 65 degrees with bright, sunshine-y blue skies like it was today. A perfect scenario for my very first Opening Day at Fenway Park.

Me… in my happy place!

Fans were asked to be in their seats by 1:30 for some special pre-game ceremonies that began by honoring a 60 year partnership between the Red Sox and the Jimmy Fund with a performance by the Jimmy Fund chorus. Following the introductions of the two teams, there was a brief remembrance for both Johnny Pesky and former Baltimore manager Earl Weaver—who both passed away last year.

An American flag, covering the entire Green Monster was unfurled for the singing of the Star-Spangled Banner by the Jimmy Fund chorus. And what Opening Day would be complete without a flyover—this year by two vintage P-51 Mustangs from the Air Force Heritage Flight Foundation. From behind the giant flag emerged players and patients from the last several decades who made their way from the outfield in to the pitcher’s mound to throw out the first pitches… Tim Wakefield, Jason Varitek and Jim Rice were among those players. Of course, it made me teary. They always know how to make me cry.

The only thing that could make the day better was a win, which the Red Sox served up in dramatic fashion. The pitchers dueled for the first 6.5 innings—Clay Buchholz for the good guys and Wei-Yin Chen for the Orioles. At this point, I figured the first team to score would win the game. Luckily, the Sox struck first.

You just knew good things were going to happen when Dustin Pedroia led off the bottom of the 7th with an infield single. Mike Napoli quickly followed with a line shot to the center field wall for double. The fans got a bit restless when Pedroia was held up at third, especially when Will Middlebrooks whiffed for the first out. Not to fear though, Daniel Nava smashed a 91 mph fastball over everything into a dumpster on Landsdowne Street.

Clay Buchholz was masterful, pitching seven innings of three-hit shutout ball, while striking out eight Orioles. He joins Jon Lester at 2-0 on this young season with an ERA of 0.64. Joel Hanrahan earned his third save, but it was not without drama. He gave up two hits in the top of the ninth, one a home run to Adam Jones to make us all hold our breath just a little bit.

The Sox take on the Orioles again for game two of the series on Wednesday night with Ryan Dempster taking the mound, trying for his first win with his new team. Click here for the exciting box score, courtesy of the Red Sox.