When I was asked last night to predict the score, I said Sox 9, Yanks 6. My thinking was that the Red Sox would have little difficulty putting up big numbers on the Yankees’ Junior Varsity pitching squad and that, simply because the Bombers’ studs had hit something of a cold streak, the Sox’s second line of hurlers may have just a bit more success. But wouldn’t you know it, Derek Lowe, Derek Lowe for crissakes, turned in the start of his life. I sincerely hope that Lowe’s performance will not be lost in last night’s story. For me, and dedicated Sox fans everywhere, Lowe has doubtless and permanently etched himself into our collective catologue of wonderful Sox memories. Between the crotch-chop 2003 relief appearance in Oakland or the best start of his entire 2004 season coming in Game 7 of the American League Championship Series on Yankee Stadium’s mound, any fan worth his salt will recognize what Lowe has contributed. Bear in mind that last night’s performance took place on the very same mound where, on September 18, he had betrayed his organization’s confidence by laying as big an egg as you possibly could. Well here here Ol’ Boy, you are redeemed and then some.

Yesterday I wrote,

“And please, mainstream media, shut the Christ up about Bellhorn. If I can make a little comparison to equity markets, consider ballplayers like stocks. You need to look at their fundamentals (numbers over the long haul) in order to determine whether or not they are worth purchasing (or should be playing for you). Because just as it is nearly impossible to time the market on a short-term basis, you never know when a Bellhorn or Damon might breakout.”

Well Johnny broke out all right. And Bellhorn wasn’t so bad either. Combined, the two of them at the top of Boston’s order batted .444/.545/1.444 in the biggest game of either of their lives. And it wasn’t because of heart or any sort of lofty personal characteristic the hyperbole-prone will try and ascribe. It was because they happen to be talented individuals that New York was not going to be able to silence forever. If you chanted “Pokey” after Bellhorn’s misplay in Game 4, hang your head and if you even allowed something resembling a “boo” directed toward Johnny Damon, Christ, then I sure hope that wasn’t you I saw trying to make out with bartender last night. You don’t deserve to celebrate like that.

I know it will be one of the main storylines but people have to try and resist the Yankees-as-chokers crap. Baseball is weird. These two teams were evenly matched and yet Mariano Rivera had the ball in his hand with three outs to go in order to close out a sweep. So if the Yankees could get that close to winning four consecutive games against Boston and if you accept the premise that the two teams are just about evenly matched, wouldn’t it stand to reason then that it was certainly possible the Red Sox could turn around and win four straight against the Yankees? No team has ever come back from a 3-0 series deficit but some team was going to some day. This New York Yankees team, time and again, displayed courage and an unwillingness to give up all year long. They routinely won after trailing, they routinely won in dramatic fashion. Don’t mold recent events just to fit your storyline.

And so now we look forward. Fortunately, Jim Edmonds hit a game-winning home run in the 12th yesterday to force a Game 7 and so both Houston and St. Louis will be in all-hands-on-deck mode just to advance.

I said last night that the end of Game 7 represented the very happiest moment of my life. I don’t think I take that back. I am not married (though I have been dating one helluva gal for 4 years or so now) and I haven’t really had one of those landmark life events that allegedly accounts for one’s happiest individual moments. So I’ll stand by it.

Four more.