One run

Uh, yeah. Perhaps I should not have been so hubristic.

A dose of humility may be just what the doctor ordered. So, Wake, could you please float like butterfly tonight? A win would be much-appreciated.

Thanks in advance!

In the mean time, I’m gonna try to erase the memory of that tragic waste of a dynamite Beckett outing by thinking back on my honeymoon, where I was surprised to discover that Red Sox nation extends south easterly to the British overseas territory of Bermuda.

One of our cab driver’s cars was bedecked in Olde Towne Team paraphernalia (he didn’t miss Manny either). One friendly cashier filled us in on the details of the previous night’s game. (You can get NESN down there — and the NBC affiliate at the hotel, weirdly, was WHDH.) And at The Swizzle Inn, the island’s oldest pub, the flag out front proudly trumpets its allegiances.

Ten things about one-run games.

Recipe for Rum Swizzle. (Not to be abused after one-run losses.)