Guess it all depends if you’re a Red Sox or Tribe fan.

It’s October and the Sox made it to the playoffs by sweeping the Angels while it took the Tribe four games to bring down the Yanks.

I wrote blogs about the first Sox/Tribe series already, so I will not be repetitive here. Some others have written blogs on the current series and you can read those to supplement this rant. Every season is golden because it includes the Red Sox; however, sappy drivel aside, our current standing in this series is no surprise to me and I’d be shocked it if really surprises anyone else.

We’ve performed inconsistently all season and tonight was no different. I roll through the season in my mind— how many one, two, three game series did I bemoan the ups and downs? But inconsistencies aside, tonight where were the Red Sox that I know and love? I watched disinterested faces staring into the camera from the dugout while Cleveland players continued to reach, push, and pull through— as if they didn’t have a 5 run lead.

Francona won’t pull pitchers when they are struggling. It seems that it has to be a truly damaging set of runs before he’ll pull the pitcher. So often I could be heard muttering “get him off the mound” and I’m not typically a backseat manager. I love Tim Wakefield and Curt Schilling. They have provided me with some pretty amazing memories and other ones that simply endeared them to me. However—and I say this kindly— it is time for them to step off the mound. Schilling especially has been a source of frustration all season. I’m a nervous wreck every time he’s scheduled to pitch… will he pull it off? And “it” isn’t a no hitter.

Throughout the season, Francona has hesitated just one batter too long before pulling a struggling pitcher. And tonight, I did momentarily appreciate the fact that he isn’t Joe Torre. It can’t be said that he’s impatient with his pitchers. He doesn’t stride out there after a few bad pitches like Torre, making a revolving door out of the bullpen. Or well, at least not that often. More often that not, though, he leaves them in just a moment too long and then, the other team breaks it open OR we by the grace of gawd pull out of the inning without severe damage.

I know a game isn’t won or lost by heart; some of it is pure luck and a team’s ability to seize upon the other’s missteps, but for me, HEART has A LOT to do with it. Tonight, the team I love seemed emotionally absent. I’m angry right now— I’m angry at the bored faces in the dugout. Hey, boys, are you here to play? Why are you all sitting there, disinterested in the game? I’d have some sympathy if you were sitting there with your shoulders lagging, apprehension and disppointment evident… but you’re NOT. It looks like you’re a bunch of guys who are bored and waiting to head off to a costume party in your pretty uniforms.

I’m angry that you aren’t out there fighting like YOU want this. I want this— do you, Sox, do you? Grrrrr….