Friggin' Prayin'

The Red Sox are up 2-0 in the World Series.

The Red Sox are up 2-0 in the World Series.

Can this be real? Can I let myself believe it's real? I can't get excited yet. I can't let myself get excited yet. I was one of those fools who had opened the champagne during Game 6 in 1986, because it was all over, in the bag, just a few easy outs away. And then it all slipped away, the agony, the howling, poor Billy Buckner driven out of town by the wrath of Red Sox Nation.

Curt Schilling was amazing last night. I keep thinking about that poor cadaver they practiced on with the tendon sheath stitches. Was the dead guy a Red Sox fan? Is he up there in heaven lording it over the other Red Sox fans about how he's helping break the 86-year-old curse? Or was he a Yankee fan & God is involved here -- a Yankee fan had to be sacrificed to break the Curse of the Bambino?

Speaking of religion, we enjoy Curt's frequent references to God. He's an avowed Christian and for example in last night's post-game press conference, he said "I'll never use the words unbelievable and the Lord in the same sentence again." Very Christian.

Righty-oh, there, Curt. I watched Letterman last week the day after the Sox vanquished the hated Yankees and saw our God-Squadder Curt read the Number One reason the Sox beat the Yankees: "We got Babe Ruth's ghost a hooker and now everything's cool." OK, if Curt's a Christian, I guess that's a very Christian statement.

My friend heard him interviewed on WEEI (our local sportstalk radio station) a few days back. In a short interview he said the word "frigging" at least a dozen times. Now, when I was a kid & I used that word, my parents treated me as though I had said "f**king". Because that's really what you're saying when you're saying frigging. So I guess using "frigging" is very Christian, too.

Last night I finally realized what Curt is doing when he sits in the dugout between pitches with his head in his hands. He's praying. They did a close-up from the side, and he has a chain around his neck (cross? saint?) in his fingers, his eyes are squeezed shut, and his lips are moving. Curt Schilling, praying between innings.

Frigging praying. Frigging praying. That's what all of Red Sox Nation is doing today.

Go Sox.

For further reading, try Schilling Gives Boston a Leg to Stand On by Tom Boswell in the Washington Post; Schilling again prevails on blood and guts alone by Sean McAdam in the Providence Journal; Fans get Curt-ain call: Ace's morning pain gives way to night of life by Stephen Harris in the Boston Herald; and Painful day, then win sewn up by Jackie MacMullan in the Boston Globe.

UPDATE: How could I forget George (not hack Peter) Vecsey? Schilling May Become Another Gimpy Legend