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Rays Are Thinking Deep Thoughts
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"Everybody's raking in [the Rays'] lineup," Red Sox slugger David Ortiz said. "Everybody's pretty much locked in. I've been to a lot of playoffs, and you don't see that too often. You might see three or four guys hit, but everybody? It's crazy.
The dominance was complete and indisputable. The Rays pitched better than the Red Sox, behind 7 1/3 sterling innings from right-hander Andy Sonnanstine, whose fastballs darted and sunk away from Boston bats. They hit better. And they played exceptional defense, particularly speedy center fielder B.J. Upton, who ran down four long drives to the warning track as if they were routine flies.
"This is what we are," third baseman Evan Longoria said. "We put pressure on the pitcher, and the pitching and defense is always there. [But] the offensive onslaught the last couple of games is a little unbelievable."
A flat, lifeless knuckleball ought to carry a sign that says "Crush Me," and the Rays were like that bully kid who delights in taking such signs literally. The first blow was struck by Peña, who launched a drive into the seats atop the left field wall, a two-run homer. Two pitches later, on a chest-high knuckleball, Longoria hit one even deeper into those seats.
The game was only four batters old, and the Red Sox were in a 3-0 hole. Wakefield was reeling. Justin Masterson was warming up in the bullpen. The sound coming from the 38,133 huddled in Fenway's ancient stands sounded like a cross between a groan and a whisper.
"It's been a little different than usual these last couple of games -- hearing nothing out there," Longoria said. "It's been pretty silent in the late innings."
By the ninth inning, as the dregs of the Boston bullpen mopped up the mess, Fenway's stands were half-empty and the Red Sox, suddenly looking as old and worn as their home park, seemed half-dead. The only signs of energy were in the visitors' dugout, which crackled with it, electric and alive.
