As George Michael once famously, said, you gotta have faith.

(Photo from Boston.com)

See, Papi? We knew you could do it. Never doubted you for a second. Okay, perhaps that’s not 100% accurate but I’d state confidently that most of us knew you had that in you somewhere. But we were worried. And while a curtain call after the first home run of the season might seem excessive and a little, you know, much to some people, it was an acknowledgment that, “Wow, been a while, huh? Good to get that monkey off our backs.” Now let’s move on.

And perhaps I’m not quite as hardened and cynical as I thought as the Fenway crowd’s reaction to Ortiz’s blast last night had me all choked up. That’s what happens when a fan base truly loves a player. You want them to do well. You will for them to do well. And when they do, it’s excellent.

Also excellent was the home run derby the Red Sox decided to play last night against young Mr. Cecil. It wasn’t quite the same as the night a few years ago when the Sox went back-to-back-to-back-to-back off the Yankees Chase Wright and where, if you looked closely enough, you could actually pinpoint the moment his soul left his body, but it was similar in terms of the amount of mercy they showed. Read: none. And Captain ‘Tek with the hitting! 37-year-old can’t hit catcher my ass. That’ll show ’em.

So tonight, it’s Game Three against those worrisome Blue Jays from yonder North. I’m sure Kevin Millar has something delightful on tap for the finale, possibly involving some questionable tonsorial decisions or a barnyard animal or two. One never knows…

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