The Dead Horse

I know this horse has been beaten to death lately, but I was astounded to see the relative lack of pub the South Siders received today (ATH, PTI, Cold Pizza, various national sports pages whose columnists take the weekend off, etc.) from the national media after trouncing the vaunted Red Sox Nation.
Even more so, everyone was so quick to slurp on Roger Clemens's Sunday performance when El Duque's was --without arguement!-- more impressive considering the pressure situation and the hitting strength of the teams faced.
Everyone knew that the Braves would find a way to lose in the first round (c'mon, they let Kyle Farnsworth pitch in a meaningful game); that was a forgone conclusion. But the frightfully awesome Red Sux line-up was supposed to pound our Pale Hose's pitching into oblivion.
Enter El Duque--exit Red Sox.
Forget the Graffinino error from game two; that wasn't the real choke job. Bases loaded, no outs, momentum rumbling to the rescue in deafening crowd noise, and three straight hitters from the frightening Red Sox line-up (Varitek-the captain, Graff-the second base savior, and Damon-Jesus in stirrups) all choked like Wade Boggs's wife forgetting to remove the wish bone from his pregame chicken meal.
But does El Duque get any pub?
Maybe in Cuba.