Purple Prose For Red Sox

Good news: Jere has decided to continue his "old-timey wrapups" of Red Sox games. Here is his opening from last night's win:

The slab toed by the cancer kid on the day of his Missouri Monarch mastering was presented to young Lester tonight by head honcho Lucchino. It was a different babe, though, who would take the remodeled mountain for the Bostons at game time. "Bat" Masterson allowed his club's wood warriors to stay close to the Sunshine Foes of Florida. They proceeded to reward him with a four-point play in the sixth, qualifying the rook for his second W.

Elsewhere, Manny is referred to as the "Latin Lumber Lord" and we are told the Sox prevailed despite "the absence of the pickle-pawed 'Papi'".

Re the opening game of the Seattle series on May 26:

The batsmen of the Rosy-hued Podiatric Underclothesmen were slow afoot for six frames, save for "Big Papi," who cleared the far fence in fourth, though his trot came without accompaniment. In number six, Varitek was burglarized, as the camouflage-clad catcher clocked one high and deep and fit to cause chaos. But Ichiro made good on his promise to the Far West Faithful and fetched it, front-to-the-fence, before falling to the floor.

If you've ever had the opportunity to read some sports pages from the early 1900s, you'll know that Jere is not exaggerating at all.

For example, here is a bit of Burt Whitman's game story from the Boston Herald-Journal of July 11, 1918:

Babe Ruth swept his range finder around towards the left field fence at Fenway Park yesterday, realizing for the first time the possibilities of home run clouts in that direction, practised all afternoon off the expert hurling of Eddie Cicotte and got three doubles. ...

Someone must have told Cicotte that Babe was a cripple against pitching that kept the ball well on the outside of the plate. The Colossus of Clouters simply ruined that theory. He spanked the ball with almost nonchalant ease, twice hitting his two-sacker on the very first pitch. The field in that direction is the shortest at the park, and if Babe starts raising them, they'll easily sail over the crest of Lewis Ledge and the lad's home run record will look as if it had eaten some food of the gods.

The following day, there was thunder at Fenway Park and Whitman wrote:

The old men of the mountains were playing their celestial tenpin game all afternoon.