The moment I walk into House of Blues on Landsdowne Street Friday morning, I know something's wrong in Red Sox Nation. WEEI's Mut & Merloni are broadcasting live from the big room in honor of Opening Day at Fenway, but barely enough people to fill the walkways around the dance floor have showed up.
Those who do come immediately begin knocking back shots – at 10 a.m., a totally acceptable time to drink, right? – but never pay much attention to the bar's festivities.
Everyone remembers how the 2011 Red Sox started 0-6 and missed the playoffs. The 2012 team – one win better as of Friday – hasn't convinced anyone this team's worth the torture of an entire baseball season.
"They've got some issues," says Tim Regan, a retail manager from Johnston, RI. "It was the same thing last year, and they they were fine, and then they choked at the end."
The Red Sox have in their first six games done nothing offensively, little on the mound and n0t much more managerially. Bobby Valentine's first six games have been a disaster, and I'm stupefied how a man as media-savvy as him can make as many PR mistakes as he has.
Really, dude? A New York radio gig? What's next – play-by-play for Montreal?
"He wouldn't have been my first choice," says Mike Saia, promotions director for WEEI, of Valentine's hiring. Some fans secretly hope he's gone in two years, replaced by former Sox pitching coach John Farrell.
The House of Blues music hall has emptied out by the first pitch, so I walk into the restaurant to watch the game. Pretty much nothing's going well right now, and no one has cause to feel anything more than apprehension and disinterest. I can hear it in the Fenway crowd's cheers as names are announced.
I'm pretty sure the Red Sox's orthopedist and clinical consultant get a more positive reaction than Bobby Valentine. That's never good.
Players like Jacoby Ellsbury, Dustin Pedroia and David Ortiz get appropriately loud cheers. They play with the grit and emotion Red Sox fans always identify with. And in Pedroia's case, his less-than-dominating physical presence further connects him to the fans.
"When the umpire gets down in his crouch, they're at about the same point," says Matt Mayo, who runs a boarding farm for horses in Sherborn, of Pedroia.
But no one gets the standing ovation Fenway gives Johnny Pesky. Whereas in the past Pesky's youthful attitude and still-muscular physique belied his age (92!), he now looks considerably older than he did a year ago, and he needs help from two young women to get to the field.
Plus, Pesky looks like he ought to be commanding Darth Vader to bring him things.
I met Johnny Pesky on the day of the 2007 World Series parade. My brother and I trained down to Fenway nice and early, grabbing a spot right outside that Chinese restaurant on Boylston Street. Pesky drove up in a limo, rolled down his window and motioned my brother over to him. My brother hurried over, ecstatic to meet the last reminder of the Ted Williams era.
Johnny Pesky leaned his head out the window, looked up at my brother and said, "What's wrong with your hair?" Johnny Pesky kicks ass.
The game gets underway after ceremonial first pitches from the newly retired Jason Varitek and Tim Wakefield – appropriate, but also kinda funny, since Varitek flat-out sucked at catching Wakefield's knuckleball. That's why the Sox kept paying Doug Mirabelli instead of signing someone who was actually, like, a catcher.
Josh Beckett starts against the Tampa Bay Rays. Beckett's another player no one's too keen on right now – his newfound selfishness reminds us too much of Keith Foulke, post-2004. And when he gives up an RBI double to second baseman Jeff Keppinger in the second, fans immediately get on his case.
Because of Beckett's attitude, some fans have already have already replaced him atop their popularity polls with younger, gutsier pitchers.
"My first child was conceived on the night of [Clay Buchholz's] no-hitter," says Pat Kielty, House of Blues bartender.
But the Red Sox have won their last seven Fenway openers. They won't be denied Friday, scoring three runs with the bases loaded in the bottom of the third. An Adrian Gonzalez single and a Kevin Youkilis sacrifice make it 2-1, then David Ortiz drives one in with a ridiculous check-swing:
That alone is enough for Beckett, who gives the Red Sox eight terrific innings. He doesn't allow another run, and he finds a dominating late-game groove, getting through the sixth and seventh on 16 pitches before setting the Rays down 1-2-3 in the eight.
"Nice to see Beckett not fucking tanking," says David Lawdon, a 30-year-old non-local police officer.
Beckett could easily finish the game, but the Red Sox offense explodes in the eighth:
The eighth ends with the Red Sox up 12-1. Leaving Beckett in to pitch the ninth would just risk injuring him, and the Red Sox have already lost one key player to injury:
When Rays shortstop Reid Brignac falls on Jacoby Ellsbury's shoulder in the fourth, everyone at House of Blues does one of two things: gasp in horror, or swear loudly. Or both.
Ellsbury's the Red Sox lead-off man. He runs like a sabre-tooth tiger's chasing him, and he hits like the baseball insulted his mother ("Hey Jacoby! I pegged your mom last night!"). He might've won the MVP last year had the Sox not missed the playoffs. Without him, they'll have to pierce together a lineup and find a new center-fielder.
But even Ellsbury's injury doesn't take too much away from Friday. The Red Sox win, 12-2, on 16 hits. The weather' perfect. Kenmore Square is a sea of red, blue, green and white jerseys and hats.
Once again, all is well in Red Sox Nation. At least until the test results on Ellsbury's solider come back.
Matt Goisman is going to write about a game each and every week from America's #1 city for sports: Here. We're calling it 52 Games, because that's what we're going to end up with. Last week, he watched the Red Sox season opener in Allston's Pus Stop Pub. This week, he saw the Bruins start their playoffs and the Red Sox return to Fenway. Next week: the Boston Marathon and Real Madrid-Barcelona soccer! Keep up with him here.
