Red Sox Avoid Sweep As Fortune Flips Other Way, But Season Already Going In Opposite Direction
By Chris Felico
Ceddanne Rafaela gave Red Sox fans a flicker of euphoria Wednesday afternoon with a walk-off opposite-field home run that somehow wrapped around the Pesky Pole—308 feet of hope that barely stayed fair, barely cleared the fence, and barely masked the truth.
The 2025 Red Sox are still a mess.
Sure, they won 11-9. Sure, they avoided the sweep against the Los Angeles Angels. And yes, for once, they didn't crumble after falling into an immediate 4-0 hole in the first inning. In fact, this is exactly the kind of game they usually lose. But this fluke of a win, despite showing an offensive fight all game, is no turning point. It’s not a foundation. It’s certainly not momentum.
It’s just a win—a single, random spike on a flatline.
Because the problems this team faces are too deep to be solved by a 308-foot fly ball that just happened to catch a break.
This game should be remembered more for the four runs allowed in the opening frame, the repeated pitching implosions, and the fact that Garrett Crochet is still the only reliable starter on this roster, than for the fireworks that ended it. The rest of the pitching staff continues to be a roulette wheel of underperformance, uncertainty, and injuries.
We’re not going to pretend that walk-offs like Rafaela’s erase the fact that this team has dropped 17 one-run games this year—most in the majors. That’s not bad luck. That’s a reflection of a team that doesn’t know how to finish. A team that constantly plays from behind. A team where hope is all they seem to have left.
And hope? Hope’s not good enough anymore.
This win doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t correct the mismanaged pitching depth. It doesn’t erase the games already lost due to the same issues. It doesn’t build momentum when nothing behind Crochet can be trusted to hold a lead for more than a few innings.
Ceddanne Rafaela gave the fans a moment. But moments don’t save seasons. The Red Sox are still broken. Still hopeful. Still waiting for something to change.
But unless that change involves action—not hope—this team will keep walking off the field with nothing more than a good feeling and another series lost.