It Was ‘Really, Really Ugly,’ but Red Sox Turn It Into a Beautiful Thing

Breaking an age-old curse is like breaking an angry horse, the Boston Red Sox discovered Saturday after saddling up for a lurching trip filled with bumps, bruises and Manny.

In Game 1 of the World Series, the curse gave them a five-run lead, then tried to toss it into the ancient Fenway dust.

The curse tossed one ball into the dugout, flung another one into the stands and glued two more to their gloves.

The curse planted one hit into an umpire’s belly, blew several other hits into foul territory scarves and walked three consecutive batters to load the bases.

Finally, in one last desperate attempt to dislodge its prey, the curse snarled into left field and swallowed poor Manny Ramirez whole.

“It was really, really ugly,” said Doug Mientkiewicz.

And, for thousands who filled the old yard with screams of relief, it was really, really beautiful.

Because the Red Sox held on.

Because the Red Sox didn’t give in.

Because the Red Sox turned the foul breath of the curse on itself, using a wind-blown homer by Mark Bellhorn in the eighth inning to steal -- and we mean steal -- an 11-9 victory over the St. Louis Cardinals.

Who knows? If this four-hour stumble could still be their day ... maybe this really could be their year?

It felt that way in their tobacco-stained dugout in that eighth inning. With Jason Varitek on first after a once-every-six-months error by Edgar Renteria, Bellhorn hit a high fly ball down the right-field line that chilly winds blew into foul territory.

“You know what we need?” Curt Schilling announced in the dugout. “How about that wind blowing that ball into the foul pole?”

One pitch later, it was done, the ball bouncing off the legendary Pesky Pole to finish the Cardinal pests.

“When Curt said that, and the ball went out, you knew something special was going on,” said Mientkiewicz.

Any time a team can win a World Series opener with a knuckleballer throwing beach balls and a defense committing four errors and an offense leaving a dozen guys on base, something special is indeed happening.

“You can’t make a living that way,” said Kevin Millar with a wince. “We got lucky. We got out of it. That’s a good sign.”

Now, for two more good signs, in the form of Game 2 and 3 starters Schilling and Pedro Martinez.

If this were an exam, the Red Sox just aced the ending essay question first, leaving them little doubt that they can now handle the multiple choice.

“It doesn’t matter how it gets done, as long as it gets done,” said Dave Roberts. “And now, to have Schilling and Pedro coming up?”

He paused, wary of putting the cart before that temperamental horse.

“Let’s just say we’re going to keep having fun,” he said.

It didn’t seem that way earlier Saturday, after the Red Sox took a 7-2 lead into the fourth inning and then began playing in a manner as incomprehensible as Steven Tyler’s national anthem.

In the fourth, the Cardinals scored three runs after Tim Wakefield walked the bases loaded on three consecutive hitters, then Millar threw a relay into the Cardinal dugout, then third baseman Bill Mueller couldn’t get a grounder out of his glove in time to save another run.

“We, like, never play that bad,” said Millar.

Oh yeah? It got worse in the sixth, when the Cardinals scored two more after pitcher Bronson Arroyo threw a slow roller into the stands and left fielder Ramirez overran a line drive that had dropped into his glove.

All those Red Sox fans that appear, in virtually every television cutaway, to be praying?

Against the New York Yankees, they were praying.

Against the Cardinals on Saturday, they were surely stifling their laughter.

After what happened to Ramirez in the eighth inning, the Red Sox didn’t even try to hide their chuckles.

Attempting to dive after a line drive by Larry Walker, Ramirez tripped on what he claimed was a drainage pipe and fell on his face, the ball popping over his glove.

He looked like a child who, trying to make his first dive into a swimming pool, belly flops instead.

Even though the tying run scored on the error, the Red Sox thought he looked hilarious.

Said Roberts: “Yeah, we were laughing, not after the win, but right then, at the time. He went from silver glove to bronze glove to green glove.”

Said Ramirez: “I should not have tried to dive. I didn’t need to dive.”

He was asked whether he was worried about looking silly.

Said Ramirez: “No, I don’t get down. I know I am a champion.”

A couple of more escapes like this, he could be right.

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.