American League Championship Series

With regard to the ongoing saga of the Boston Red Sox and their futile pursuit of one lousy little World Series triumph, I have always been of the opinion that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. This time, I'm not so sure. Who among us needed this ? I speak not as an embittered scribe who boldly predicted the Red Sox over the Yankees in five (while hinting that a sweep would not be inconceivable), but as a baseball-loving citizen of Greater Boston who is tired of the nonsense.

By Tony Massarotti, Boston.com Columnist The truth, quite sadly, is that the winning had become downright boring, forecasted, predictable. The Red Sox expect to win. We expect the same. And so it took an epic collapse to awaken us from the doldrums of complacency, from the highest floors at 4 Yawkey Way to the farthest bar post at Sullivan's Tap. Indeed, if the Red Sox somehow resurrect themselves and actually win the World Series — admittedly, that seems unlikely at the moment — we will marvel at how the Sox pulled it off during a year in which they have been downright...

The Red Sox never needed Mark Teixeira. That's what I kept hearing from Sox defenders after the Yankees scored a knockout punch in the heavyweight fight with Boston. The Yankees, as we warned all along, swept in and grabbed the prized free agent of the 2008 offseason. Of course the Red Sox needed Teixeira. If they didn't, they wouldn't have offered an eight-year deal for $170 million. If they didn't, they wouldn't have flown to Texas to meet with Teixeira, then kept talking right up until yesterday afternoon when the Yankees came in and trumped them.

By Tony Massarotti, Boston.com Columnist No matter where you go today, here is the simple, undeniable truth: you will be asked a question, albeit in a variety of forms. So who do you like? So whaddaya think? At the water cooler. Near the copy machine. In the hallway, outside the bathroom, adjacent to the supply closet. Your guess is as meaningful as anyone else's, which means it is as meaningless, too. Me? I like the Bruins. I think. So that is what it comes down for your beloved Boston Bruins, a team that has been rebuilt and revived in recent years: a de facto flip of the coin.

ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. - Most every night, roughly one hour before the scheduled first pitch, Terry Francona basks in the calm. For the man who has brought historic stability to the manager's office at Fenway Park, this is when his job repays him. This is his time. "Everything's over - the media stuff, the challenges or whatever requires your attention - and the only thing in front of us is the game," said Francona, who tonight will lead the Red Sox into Game 1 of the American League Championship Series against the Tampa Bay Rays.

ST. LOUIS -- The march to baseball's ultimate glory was not conventional, not mundane, and certainly not relaxing. But why should anyone be surprised? For these are the Boston Red Sox. Celestially speaking, this franchise has not exactly been Destiny's Darlings, unless you happen to have been born during the Taft Administration. Since 1946, when the team with the best record in baseball lost a painful Game 7 in this very city, the great, sad cries of the Red Sox and their passionate fans have been variations of "Why?"

Now I Can Die in Peace: How ESPN’s Sports Guy Found Salvation, With a Little Help From Nomar, Pedro, Shawshank, and the 2004 Red Sox , By Bill Simmons, ESPN Books, 352 pp., $24.95 In the movie "The Shawshank Redemption," hero Andy Dufresne endures 20 years of unjust imprisonment that includes bruising stints in isolation and vicious assaults. In "Now I Can Die in Peace," his collection of columns about the Boston Red Sox, Bill Simmons keeps referencing this movie. Why? Because Andy preserves hope.

FORT MYERS, Fla. — Josh Beckett and A.J. Burnett grew up in the Florida Marlins organization, playing together for five years. They were righthanders with boundless talent and stubborn natures. Beckett was traded to the Red Sox after the 2005 season, two weeks before Burnett signed a free agent deal with the Toronto Blue Jays. Beckett helped the Red Sox win the World Series in 2007, two years before Burnett did the same for the Yankees, the team he jumped to after leaving the Jays.

By Tony Massarotti, Boston.com Columnist The truth, quite sadly, is that the winning had become downright boring, forecasted, predictable. The Red Sox expect to win. We expect the same. And so it took an epic collapse to awaken us from the doldrums of complacency, from the highest floors at 4 Yawkey Way to the farthest bar post at Sullivan's Tap. Indeed, if the Red Sox somehow resurrect themselves and actually win the World Series — admittedly, that seems unlikely at the moment — we will marvel at how the Sox pulled it off during a year in which...

NEW YORK - The Red Sox last night beat the moribund Yankees in their terminal ballpark, 7-3. These are sorry times here in Yankee Stadium. It feels like the final days of the Nixon White House. Fifteen games remain at the iconic stadium, and it looks as though the curtain will drop for good Sept. 21 when the Yankees play host to the awful Baltimore Orioles. No soup for you this year, New York. No October baseball. No famous final scene for the most celebrated sports theater in North America.

FORT MYERS, Fla. — Josh Beckett and A.J. Burnett grew up in the Florida Marlins organization, playing together for five years. They were righthanders with boundless talent and stubborn natures. Beckett was traded to the Red Sox after the 2005 season, two weeks before Burnett signed a free agent deal with the Toronto Blue Jays. Beckett helped the Red Sox win the World Series in 2007, two years before Burnett did the same for the Yankees, the team he jumped to after leaving the Jays.

The Red Sox never needed Mark Teixeira. That's what I kept hearing from Sox defenders after the Yankees scored a knockout punch in the heavyweight fight with Boston. The Yankees, as we warned all along, swept in and grabbed the prized free agent of the 2008 offseason. Of course the Red Sox needed Teixeira. If they didn't, they wouldn't have offered an eight-year deal for $170 million. If they didn't, they wouldn't have flown to Texas to meet with Teixeira, then kept talking right up until yesterday afternoon when the Yankees came in and trumped them.

ST. PETERSBURG, Fla. - Most every night, roughly one hour before the scheduled first pitch, Terry Francona basks in the calm. For the man who has brought historic stability to the manager's office at Fenway Park, this is when his job repays him. This is his time. "Everything's over - the media stuff, the challenges or whatever requires your attention - and the only thing in front of us is the game," said Francona, who tonight will lead the Red Sox into Game 1 of the American League Championship Series against the Tampa Bay Rays.

NEW YORK - The Red Sox last night beat the moribund Yankees in their terminal ballpark, 7-3. These are sorry times here in Yankee Stadium. It feels like the final days of the Nixon White House. Fifteen games remain at the iconic stadium, and it looks as though the curtain will drop for good Sept. 21 when the Yankees play host to the awful Baltimore Orioles. No soup for you this year, New York. No October baseball. No famous final scene for the most celebrated sports theater in North America.

Now I Can Die in Peace: How ESPN’s Sports Guy Found Salvation, With a Little Help From Nomar, Pedro, Shawshank, and the 2004 Red Sox , By Bill Simmons, ESPN Books, 352 pp., $24.95 In the movie "The Shawshank Redemption," hero Andy Dufresne endures 20 years of unjust imprisonment that includes bruising stints in isolation and vicious assaults. In "Now I Can Die in Peace," his collection of columns about the Boston Red Sox, Bill Simmons keeps referencing this movie. Why? Because Andy preserves hope.

ST. LOUIS -- The march to baseball's ultimate glory was not conventional, not mundane, and certainly not relaxing. But why should anyone be surprised? For these are the Boston Red Sox. Celestially speaking, this franchise has not exactly been Destiny's Darlings, unless you happen to have been born during the Taft Administration. Since 1946, when the team with the best record in baseball lost a painful Game 7 in this very city, the great, sad cries of the Red Sox and their passionate fans have been variations of "Why?"

By Tony Massarotti, Boston.com Columnist No matter where you go today, here is the simple, undeniable truth: you will be asked a question, albeit in a variety of forms. So who do you like? So whaddaya think? At the water cooler. Near the copy machine. In the hallway, outside the bathroom, adjacent to the supply closet. Your guess is as meaningful as anyone else's, which means it is as meaningless, too. Me? I like the Bruins. I think. So that is what it comes down for your beloved Boston Bruins, a team that has been rebuilt and revived in recent years: a de facto flip of the coin.

FORT MYERS, Fla. -- It was so out of character, this impetuous act of astonishing directness for a private man so isolated by language and culture and unfamiliarity with a new team and a new city that he seldom gave voice to his feelings. But at that moment, with his shoulder aching and his heart brimming with frustration that even when he did pitch his manager had little confidence in him and the fans even less, he raised his middle finger in a universal gesture of contempt, anger, and disrespect, when just about everyone who mattered in his world was watching.

With regard to the ongoing saga of the Boston Red Sox and their futile pursuit of one lousy little World Series triumph, I have always been of the opinion that it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. This time, I'm not so sure. Who among us needed this ? I speak not as an embittered scribe who boldly predicted the Red Sox over the Yankees in five (while hinting that a sweep would not be inconceivable), but as a baseball-loving citizen of Greater Boston who is tired of the nonsense.

FORT MYERS, Fla. -- It was so out of character, this impetuous act of astonishing directness for a private man so isolated by language and culture and unfamiliarity with a new team and a new city that he seldom gave voice to his feelings. But at that moment, with his shoulder aching and his heart brimming with frustration that even when he did pitch his manager had little confidence in him and the fans even less, he raised his middle finger in a universal gesture of contempt, anger, and disrespect, when just about everyone who mattered in his world was watching.