McAdam: Red Sox win a classic to put themselves a victory away from the AL pennant

HOUSTON -- At some point, it had to begin to feel like so much more than a baseball game, albeit, a very, very long baseball game.

It was long alright — four hours and thirty-three minutes worth — and it seemingly had everything. It had three lead changes and three ties but it somehow felt like it was always tied, or soon-to-be tied. It felt like one team was always about to lose the lead and the other was about to take it.

A game? Or some test of human endurance?

Game 4 of the American League Championship Series? Or a sadistic exercise to determine how much you can handle?

It began on one day and ended the next, and for all of those involved, it was one, long, beautiful, sloppy roller coaster of emotions -- finally ending in triumph for the Red Sox. And even then, just barely, with the final out an all-out gambit by Andrew Benintendi, who snared a sinking liner to left in a way that Carl Crawford couldn't in Game 162 in 2011.

Final score: Red Sox 8, Astros 6.

"Lot of back and forth,'' concluded Jackie Bradley Jr., who homered to drive in two runs. "I've got some gray hairs. But I can dig the salt-and-pepper look.''

"I believe it would have been less nerve-wracking if I wasn't in the game,'' determined Xander Bogaerts. "If I just watching on TV, I would have been less nervous. But being part of the game was special.''

"It was back and forth the whole night,'' said Benintendi. "I think every time they scored, we scored the next inning, so it was good to punch them back after they gave us a punch.''

Ah, the boxing analogy, a staple of sports clichés. Every thrilling game is somehow, eventually inevitably, compared to a heavyweight fight, where the teams absorb the best shots from their opponents and somehow find the strength to return as many blows in exchange.

But this time, it might actually be apt. This was physically taxing, mentally training and uncommonly demanding. By the end, both teams had nearly run out of pitchers and almost certainly run out of energy. But still, they pushed forward.

From the beginning, there was the hint that it was going to be one of those games: two runs in the top of the first, followed by a hugely controversial umpiring call in the bottom of the inning that would hang ominously over the rest of the contest.

With a baserunner on first, Jose Altuve drove a ball to right which Mookie Betts tracked, appearing to time his leap perfectly. Betts went up, extended his glove and seemed ready to make the catch, but a fan seated in the first row reached out and with his movement, knocked Betts's glove closed.

Chaos ensued as the Astros believed they had a game-tying two-run homer, but right field umpire Joe West immediately ruled fan interference and a crew chief review of the play made the original call stand.

The Astros and the vast majority of fans at Minute Maid Park were livid. The Red Sox were relieved.

Less than a full inning had been played, and for the rest of the night, there was the nagging, inescapable thought: how would that have changed the game?

And yet, the game had barely gotten started. There was so much, much more to unpack.

There was the Astros finally tying the game -- this time for real -- in the third, then taking their first lead with a run in the fourth. There was the soft parade of relievers from both sides -- five for the Red Sox, five for the Astros. There was a pitcher (Eduardo Rodriguez) thought to be a candidate to start Game 5 for the Red Sox brought in for five pitches and there was another Game 5 candidate (David Price) who warmed up for several innings in the bullpen, but never came into the game.

Back and forth the lead went. Over and out went the momentum.

The visitor's bullpen at Minute Maid Park sits in left center, closed off like a garage with a screen door. It's impossible to see large parts of the field, and as one reliever after another left to go to work, Price and a handful of others remained, as though stranded on some remote island.

"It's tough,'' confessed Price. "Our bullpen TV is almost a full inning behind the actual game, so if you want to check a pitch, just come back 10 minutes later. It's unique.''

In the dugout, infielder Ian Kinsler, who wasn't pressed into duty until he took over at second base in the bottom of the ninth, had a far better view. Better, but more nerve-wracking.

Kinsler was part of the 2011 Texas Rangers team that was twice two strikes away from winning the World Series against the St. Louis Cardinals in Game 6 before losing the game in extra innings, said the tension was nearly as thick Wednesday night.

"Baseball's crazy,'' marveled Kinsler. "We saw an all-time classic tonight. But when you go back-and-forth like that, honestly, on our side, there was no doubt that we wouldn't turn a deficit into a lead. That's just the way this team thinks.''

That confidence, Kinsler added, wasn't verbalized or demonstrated with any proclamations. It was quieter than that, but still understood.

"When you're around your teammates for so many hours,'' he said, "a lot of it just body language and eye contact — whatever it is. It's just a feeling.''

Sure enough, after the fifth, the Red Sox never let up, adding four runs to the Astros' one.

"It was a fun game to be a part of,'' said Benintendi.

Once you get over the waves of nausea, anxiety and terror that accompanied it.