Still keeping us guessing

Just how many make-or-breaks can we have in one season? Sox fans and media folk have become like parents pledging “one last warning’’ for the 10th time. The urgency is diluted every time we say it.

“If there’s comes a point we’ve got to start doing the math, we’ll do it,’’ Terry Francona said yesterday afternoon. “We’re not where we want to be, but I don’t think that means we can’t be. We’ve got a long road ahead against some really good teams, but we’ll see how it goes . . . We’re going to play until they send us home.’’

True. The Sox can’t be mathematical ly eliminated this weekend. But they came to the Apple knowing they could be emotionally eliminated. They could be erased in the minds of all free-thinking baseball fans.

Not likely. Not now. The pitching matchups tomorrow and Monday favor Boston. The Sox look like they can finally gain some ground.

There’s been an interesting twist in perceptions. The Sox will be on network television today and tomorrow, and even though they are in third place in their division, their national image is peaking like October foliage. Despite the second-highest payroll in baseball, a record home sellout streak, and two world championships in the last six years, the Sox have become the overachieving underdogs because of all their injuries. They are the plucky Little Train That Could. This is what happens when you feature lineups with a steady dose of Eric Patterson, Kevin Cash, and Darnell McDonald.

Last night’s series opener marked the first time since 1972 that the Red Sox had played a Yankee team that was not owned by George Steinbrenner. The Yankees have memorial George patches on their uniforms. Looming in the distance beyond the screaming yellow W.B. Mason ad and the right-center-field bleachers there’s a billboard with the larger-than-life image of Steinbrenner. The sign’s headline is simple: THE BOSS.