Now We Know How L. B. Jefferies Felt...

I'm starting to feel like L. B. Jefferies (see: Jimmy Stuart, Alfred Hitchcock, and Rear Window): the furtive camera shots and photographs into the dugout immediately following the last several games have revealed things the party line spewed from high above 4 Yawkey way. Two nights ago, before Schilling got shelled, we saw Josh Beckett talk to Al Nipper while staring intently at his finger. Tonight, we saw Willie Harris get the evil eye from DeMarlo Hale... and boy, did he ever deserve it.

It's the bottom of the ninth. Two out. One on. One run deficit. The righty on the mound is throwing 97 mph gas, and up steps one of your best left-handed fastball hitters.

The pinch runner you inserted at first base has just been caught stealing.

End of rally. Game over.

We all felt the same thing when we saw Harris taking off for second. There's no way in hell Francona has the balls to pull a move like that. There was simply no need for it. The only comfort for the fans tonight was that we saw Harris get his come-uppance from the coaches when he got back to the dugout. Sure, it was unlikely he decided to steal on his own. Chances are he just got the signs crossed up. Still, that's one helluva painful way to end a ballgame.

What else did we learn from tonight? Tim Wakefield repels run support. He pitched pretty solidly, but the bats just couldn't muster anything more than a whisper against the up-and-coming Bedard. Eventually, Wake will get his W's. Three more games and then back home for the Yankees.