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<BODY.CONTENT>
<UID>
8602150350
</UID>
<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
861008
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Wednesday, October 08, 1986
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL CHASER
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1D
</PAGE>
<ILLUSTRATION>

</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>

</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1986, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
BOSTON IS BEANED AGAIN BY BASEBALL BLUNDER BLUES
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

</CORRECTION>
<BODY>
BOSTON -- It was new and fresh and wonderful for about four pitches. Then
Wally Joyner stroked one to right field, a double, and one inning later, he
hit another one to left, knocking in a California  run, and suddenly these
playoffs became all too familiar for Red Sox fans, who figure heartbreak comes
exclusively in their size,  anyhow.

  "Sammy Stewart warming up in the bullpen" a voice announced, 37 minutes
into Game 1.

  What? Huh? Whoa! What was Stewart doing up? What was anyone doing up in the
second inning? Wasn't Roger Clemens pitching for the Sox? Rocket Roger?
Shoo-in for the Cy Young  award? Cause of all the heart palpitations lately in
this hub city? That Roger? 24-4?
  Kid Whiz?
  Wasn't this to be the gimme game, the one the visitors concede, the one
that gives the Red Sox  the 1-0 playoff lead they earned by having the best
record in the American League? Wasn't it?
  It was. But it wasn't. And by the eighth inning, Clemens was taking that
longest of walks -- to the showers,  with the game still in progress --  and
his team trailed, 6-1. The packed house at Fenway rose and clapped their
mittens together, but it was the applause of commiseration, not celebration.
The sure thing was lost. Boston would drop the gimme.
  Kid Whiz went fizz.
Angels dodge Rocket Roger
  In the subdued Red Sox clubhouse after the game -- final score 8-1, Angels
-- reporters peppered Clemens  with questions about his pitching elbow, which
was hit by a line drive a week ago, which forced him to leave the game
immediately.
  "It felt OK," he said. "I felt strong. I felt I made some good pitches.
They were just the better team tonight."
  You can believe that, or you can believe the box score, which is no doubt
causing its share of heartburn over Boston breakfasts this morning. To
understand  what is going through the minds of Red Sox fans now, realize that
in the days before this series began, the talk was all Roger. On the streets
it was Roger. Along Yawkey Way, it was Roger. In the cabs  and the pubs and
the Hancock Building, it was Roger. He was compared in the Boston papers to
Larry Bird -- that quietly confident, that reliable, that much of a sure
thing.
  "They won't beat Roger  in Fenway," people said. This was a gimme.
  Unfortunately, for Boston fans, it was Clemens who did the giving. Ten
hits, seven earned runs. Elbow or no elbow, this was not his vintage pitching.
He  was walking people. Walking people? Since when does he walk people? Since
when does he give up hits to Gary Pettis, the ninth batter, who was  0-for-9
against him before Tuesday night?
  Clemens threw  143 pitches before leaving -- a game and a half for him when
he's sharp. He threw 45 pitches in the second inning alone. The game would be
out of reach by the third. The Boston bats were far too silent,  and, like a
slick nightclub singer who suddenly discovers his fly unzipped, the Red Sox
feel embarrassingly mortal this morning.
  Remember that the home team can't give up a hit around here without
someone thinking "here we go again." Take your pick of Boston near-misses:
1978, 1975, 1967. Great teams. All fell just short. Don't think the fans
overlooked the fact that California's first five runs  Tuesday all came with
two outs.
  Ernest Hemingway, with his sense of the tragic, might have felt right at
home in Fenway's bleachers. Here in Boston, the glum also rises.
Angels took the gimme
  And what of the Angels? And Mike Witt, who had a no-hitter going until the
sixth inning? And Brian Downing, who drove in four runs with two hits? Credit
them with a stunning victory given the conditions,  and the atmosphere, and
the pre-series buildup.
  Joyner, a 24-year-old rookie, two months older than Clemens, got the
series' first hit and its second RBI. "My rookie season ended last Sunday," he
 said afterward. Oooh.
  So the Angels jump ahead. They win the game they were supposed to lose. In
certain ways, it could make the series more interesting. No gimmes. Earn the
victories. But it will  take all the belief Red Sox fans can muster to come
back to the park this afternoon confident that things will work out fine.
  When his post-game interview session broke up, Boston manager John McNamara
 made sure to say, "Gentlemen, see you tomorrow."
  It was a gentle reminder. Baseball is about coming right back. That is
true.
  But the inertia that swept the Red Sox into the post-season has  dropped
them like a school bus at the corner. They'll have to hoof it the rest of the
way.
  Kid Whiz goes fizz. The Sox are on their own now. And destiny already leads
by a step.
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