Fall Fashion: Pinstripes In, Red Sox Out

Twenty minutes past midnight, wading through the trash and remorse of Fenway Park Section 17.

Jose Offerman hits a weak grounder to first base.

“Ohhhhhhhh,” shouts an elderly man, slapping his mitten against his thigh.

John Valentin hits a fly ball to center field.

“Don’t come down, don’t come down!” shouts another man, with two chapped hands, pleading in vain.

Jason Varitek hits a fly ball to left. This, too, unfortunately comes down.

Third out, game over. The New York Yankees race to the middle of the field and pile on top of each other on their way to the World Series.

The Boston Red Sox disappear into their dugout to face another winter like the 79 winters before it.

After spending the last three days shouting a nasty chant at the Yankees and umpires and opposing fans, the Fenway folks stare at the field and chant it at themselves.

“This [bleeps], this [bleeps],” says Ace Trainor, a 23-year-old man, who no doubt learned such things from neighbors three times his age.

And so it has happened, as it most certainly had to happen, as it could happen forever in this place bathed in the eerie glow of failure.

The Boston Red Sox have lost another postseason series they could have won.

This time it was with a 6-1 loss to the Yankees on Monday night that gave their detested rivals a four-games-to-one victory in the American League championship series.

But this time was no different from any other time.

The Red Sox, hoping to forever end talk of The Curse of the Bambino, brought in Ruth’s daughter, Julia Ruth Stevens, to throw out the ceremonial first pitch.

The Yankees countered with that guy sitting over their dugout named Bucky Dent.

In yet another late season or postseason series, the Red Sox were beaten in ways they should not have been beaten.

There was no choking-up shortstop putting a soft fly ball into the net above the Green Monster, but there was everything else.

“They were not the better team,” said Red Sox shortstop Nomar Garciaparra. “But we did not play better than them.”

After most series, such talk is so much sour mash. But in this case, he was right.

Remember, after 162 regular season games, the Red Sox finished only four games behind the Yankees.

And remember, in this series, they led or were tied at the end of 26 of the first 31 innings.

But as seemingly with every Red Sox team from Johnny Pesky to Bill Buckner, their sense of doom overwhelmed any sense of accomplishment.

They treaded lightly around success until they met failure, then they embraced it, and it became them.

It wasn’t so much their mistakes, but how they handled them.

* In Game 1, after umpire Rick Reed blows that call at second base in the 10th inning, Brian Daubach grounds into a double play, then Rod Beck walks out in the bottom of the inning and gives up a game-winning homer.

* In Game 2, twice their hitters come within inches of home runs. But amazingly, while Jason Varitek ends up on third base and Troy O’Leary ends up on second, both with less than two out, neither man scores.

* In Game 4, after another bad call at second base, their pitchers give up six runs to put the game out of reach.

And then came Monday, maybe the worst of all.

Believe it or not, the Red Sox had them. They were down three runs, but in the eighth inning there were three baserunners with only one out.

Pedro Martinez, bundled up like the Dominican Snowman, ran from the Red Sox dugout to the bullpen amid an awakened and roaring crowd.

On the mound, reliever Mike Stanton threw up his arms and curses.

In the dugout, Joe Torre, for the first time this series, took off his hat and scratched his balding head.

In the stands, George Steinbrenner--the Abominable Rich Man?--waved his hands in disgust.

But what happened against new and chilly reliever Ramiro Mendoza?

Scott Hatteberg struck out on a ball four, a pitch so bad that it bounced over home plate.

Then Trot Nixon took a perfect pitch down the middle for strike two before weakly fouling out.

Hatteberg finished the night wandering through the Red Sox clubhouse asking about his mistake--”was that a fastball?”

The Red Sox finished the game going hitless in 10 at-bats with runners in scoring position and hitless in four at bats with runners on third and less than two out.

This time, in the end, the curse looked something like that.

“I don’t believe in the curse, I really don’t,” said Jimy Williams, the Red Sox manager. “Unfortunately, we did leave runners on and . . . when we made a mistake, they seemed to capitalize.”

As in Games 1 and 4, the Red Sox made two errors in one inning Monday. One mistake after another. Failure is not halted, but doubled.

“I tell you what, we’re still a special club, all we’ve accomplished and been through,” said Garciaparra, referring to their playoff comeback against the Cleveland Indians that put them in this position. “We can’t forget that. We can’t let this take away from that.”

Tell that to the fans in Section 17, who shuffled home late Monday night with just one more chant in an arsenal that is closed for the winter, again.

“Braves in four . . . Braves in four.”

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at his e-mail address: bill.plaschke@latimes.com.