BOSTON — Maybe David Price is afraid of October. Maybe he hates sweater weather and Halloween and pumpkin spice lattes. Maybe the calendar page flips and so does his heart. I don’t know. Neither do you. And certainly neither do the fans who used his abysmal outing in Game 2 of the ALDS as confirmation of some statement about his soul or his stomach or his genitalia. At this point, I’m not even sure David Price knows what happens to David Price in the postseason.
What I do know is that Saturday night’s rotten start—five outs, three runs, zero strikeouts in a game the Red Sox lost 6–2, to even the series at one game apiece—is not evidence that he can’t pitch at this time of year.