FanNation

   All right, Red Sox. Time for a pep talk.

   Yes, it's a long season. Yes, world champions don't panic. Yes, Tampa Bay has little postseason experience on its roster (and closer Troy Percival is out of service).

   Yada yada yada.

   Everybody has a bad road trip and gets swept at some point during the season. Oh, right, this is the fourth three-game sweep on the road this season, the second under the ugliest dome in baseball.

   And the wakeup call arrived last night after the Rays finished the 7-6 victory and broke out the brooms.

   First, Evan Longoria, whose two-run single in a six-run seventh (whose horrors were only missing Rich Gedman and Bill Buckner failing to block balls in the dirt) proved the eventual game-winning hit, had a bucket of Gatorade dumped over his head by his teammates. Three-and-a-half games up prior to July 4, and they're acting like they've already clinched a playoff spot. Ev, why didn't you just help yourself to Erin Andrews when you had the opportunity? She seemed willing.

   If you thought James Shields plunking Coco Crisp last month was an affront...

   And then somebody in the Tampa Bay organization hocked a bigger loogie: "Sweet Caroline" at game's end. It would be like the Sox busting out the Liza Minielli version of "New York, New York" after a win over the Yankees at Fenway Park (the Sox-Yankees rivalry hasn't crossed that line yet).

   Watching this play out on TV, I went from wanting to swan-dive off the top of the Sunshine Skyway to grabbing a bat instead in 4.3 seconds.

   And the worst part, Sox: you did this to yourselves. Last night in particular, you did just as much to lose this game as the Rays did to win it. You botched it so badly that even scoring two runs in the ninth off special guest closer Dan Wheeler (sporting an ERA around 1 at the Trop) wasn't enough.

   Dice-K, congratulations on your 9-1 record so far, even if it's the baseball equivalent of an empty tuxedo. It would be nice if you could keep the walks and pitch count down enough to get to the sixth inning.

   Manny Delcarmen, when the ball is it to the first baseman, GET TO THE BAG. PRONTO! The way you've been tagged your last three outings, you no longer have the luxury of fundamental screwups.

   Craig Hansen, plate's over here. Two walks led to the Rays' insurance run Tuesday night, and two more walks last night poured gas on the fire Manny lit in front of you. If it were my call, you wouldn't have been on the charter to LaGuardia after the game; you'd have been on a Southwest red-eye to T.F. Green, within a 25-minute taxi ride to Pawtucket. Instead, Chris Smith was condemned to flying steerage back to Rhode Island with today's activation of Mike Timlin from the disabled list (hopefully, he brings some of what he threw in rehab with Pawtucket to the varsity).

   And the biggest disappointment of all: Terry Francona (or Francoma, as they say on talk radio). It's 7-6, Mike Lowell on first, one out in the ninth, and you're trying to play hit-and-run with Jason Varitek, whose batting average is sinking faster than the Dow Jones. Like Dioner Navarro possesses a wet noodle for an arm. The inevitable: Lowell is thrown out stealing (not even close) when Varitek swings and misses, and the slumping captain goes down on strikes to end the game. I'll be generous and call it a brain cramp.

   Oh, and it's been mentioned that David Ortiz won't be back until later this month with a wrist injury, putting a crimp in the Boston offense.

   In the words of the great philosopher JoeCocker (or the more contemporary Justin Timberlake), cry me a river.

   You're the world champions, boys. Start playing like world champions. A four-gamer in the Bronx over the holiday weekend (while the red-hot Rays snack on Kansas City beneath those catwalks) is a good place to start.