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As to how the MVP of this World Series felt minutes after work that made an old man quiver with joy, Marlins wunderkind Josh Beckett said he felt relief. "I can't believe," he said, "that we're not playing a game tomorrow." So he yawned, stretched, and said, "Now I get to go deer hunting."
As if he'd done nothing special.
As if he expected to do it.
Which he did.
What we have in Joshua Patrick Beckett is a phenomenon, a real, live, Stetson-wearin', Hummer-drivin', deer-killin', snuff-dippin', cocksure, chin-whiskered Texas legend in the making, a 6-5, 218-pound righthander who brings 97 mile per-hour heat, a changeup at 86 mph and a breaking ball that breaks hearts.
What we have is Josh Beckett arriving as Roger Clemens leaves, a rearrangement of stars in the same World Series, one growing bright as another goes dim. "Josh is special" said Marlins manager Jack McKeon. "He's got the guts of a burglar."
What we have is proof of McKeon's testimony on baseball, the World Series and the Marlins. His voice aquiver, the 72-year-old grandfather who in less than six months transformed underachievers into world champions said, "You believe me now? Anything can happen."