What’s the Word?

Omens come in all shapes and sizes. From ominous sightings of animals to burnt toast depicting the visage of the Virgin Mary, people around the world pick seemingly mundane occurrences and spin them into horrifying signs of the apocalypse.

Last night, the Red Sox Nation was visited by just such an omen. This one came in the form of a little black bird.

During the waning moments of a crushing 6-3 loss to the Indians, a little black bird found his way to the infield dirt, drawing the attention of fans and players alike. The poor fellow seemed to have suffered an injury of some sort, as he was unable to simply fly away when confronted by players trying to shoo him out of harm’s way.

The longer the bird hopped around the field, the more attention he attracted. Fans laughed and cheered the fowl when he darted along the basepath in an attempted steal of second base. Though he managed to swipe the bag fairly easily, the official scoring was Defensive Indifference, as he failed to even draw a throw.

During the height of his comic relief appearance, a welcome intermission to the Red Sox loss, the little bird perched upon second base for a while, surveying his surroundings. As if checking the signs coming in from the sideline, he peered down to the base coach before making another heroic jaunt towards third. Whether the bird had the green light or not is still a mystery.

But as the night drew to a close, fans began to realize their little temporary mascot was not there for the mere entertainment of a downtrodden Fenway crowd. This bird had another purpose that night than simply coaching Doug Mirabelli proper baserunning techniques.

This bird brought a message, and it wasn’t a good one.

As the dust settled on the morose evening in Boston, the Nation soon came to realize just how ominous this little blackbird’s appearance was. Soon after the game ended, word came down from the front office that Varitek’s knee suffered more than a simple tweak; cartilage was torn and he requires surgery, placing him on the DL for at least a month.

Though a bum knee would certainly help explain his season-long struggles at the plate, it also means our starting catcher is out for the final playoff push. The Sox won’t have Tek calling signs for either the veteran pitchers or the rookie hurlers for a while.

The Red Sox are without their Captain.

Doug Mirabelli, usually relegated to the role of Tim Wakefield’s Personal Catcher, will have to step up as a full-time player in Tek’s absense.

I can’t remember the last time Mirabelli was a full-time player. Hell, I doubt HE can remember the last time he was a full-time player. The Nation can only hope his less-than-ideal physique can withstand the rigors of daily play, and that his meager Mendoza-line batting average is merely due to lack of extended playing time. Hope.

But the little winged demon that soiled the hallowed confines of Fenway last night wasn’t done there. The harbinger of doom wasn’t content with simply taking down a key cog in the Red Sox machine.

After Boston’s loss, a win from New York placed them in first place in the AL East … by .002 percentage points. Having played two less games than the Red Sox, New York technically sits alone atop the standings because of a mathematical calculation.

Though the difference in schedule will eventually even itself out as New York plays its make-up games, seeing the Yankees looking down on the Sox shrouds the city of Boston in a disheartening cloud of despair. Even after dispelling the ghosts of 87 years back in 2004, Boston still seems to peer over its shoulder in anticipation of the inevitable Yankee surge to first. It happens so often, and this year suddenly seems no different despite the success this team has enjoyed so far in the season.

So while the antic of the little black bird in Fenway gave the fans a momentary release from the reality of Boston’s recent slump, and while Boston websites are having cute little contests to name the base-stealing bird, the true meaning of his visit is becoming all too clear today.

Shoo, bird, don’t bother us. We’re in the midst of a Pennant Race.