Boston Red Sox fans had heard there was a secret chord that David Price could play to please the hordes, one that had never revealed itself in the postseason before it showed up in small sample during the American League Championship Series. And it was back in Game 2 of the World Series, as the much-criticized lefty earned a victory and brought his team two wins from another championship.
It went like this: the fourth, the fifth, and even the sixth. The innings fell and Price provided a major lift, baffled Dodgers hitters asking, “what’d he throw ya?” A quality start and just enough offense, including J.D. Martinez’s bloop two-run single has Boston rejoicing, hallelujah.
Alex Cora’s faith in his veteran pitcher was strong but he needed proof. He saw Price battling on the mound, his toughness in the moonlight plainly obvious. A ferocious inside fastball tied up hitters in their kitchen, he broke their bats and he placed sliders there, a study in accuracy.
Price has been there before. He’d seen that room and he’d walked the floor, but never with such confidence and effortless ease. This was a career-defining start in which he banished brutal demons. He’s ever-so-close to hanging a banner on the marble arch and loving a victory march full of cold and broken hallelujahs.
This was the time he let us know what’s really going on below. And below that sometimes cantankerous and thin-skinned exterior is a warrior. A pitcher capable of excelling in the most pressure-packed situations if given enough chances.
Maybe there’s something above directing this transformation and all Price has ever learned from the game he loves is how to beat somebody that out-threw him. No longer are we hearing his anguished cries at night. He’s someone who has seen the light.