ESPN MLB

BOSTON -- Orlando Hernandez is listed as 35 years old and is actually four days shy of his 40th birthday, having reset his baseball age after defecting from Cuba in December 1997. But when he threw in relief against the Red Sox on Friday night, age was irrelevant. He pitched with a fastball of a 25-year-old, the breaking ball of a 30-year-old, the guile of an old man and the guts of someone too young to know better.

Boston had the bases loaded and nobody out when Hernandez took over with a one-run lead in the sixth, and El Duque got three outs without permitting any runs in a tense turning point. By night's end, Chicago had clinched a series sweep with a 5-3 decision, ending the year-long Red Sox reign as champions and clinching Chicago's first victory in a postseason series since 1917.

The White Sox raced onto the field and celebrated like a herd of gazelles, while the Red Sox players lingered in their dugout. Kevin Millar sat back with his arms crossed. Curt Schilling, who did not throw a pitch in the postseason, loitered next to David Wells and seemed to be fighting his emotions. Reliever Mike Timlin stared onto the field, his face and jersey splattered with dirt.

The Red Sox clubhouse was nearly silent, with some players speaking quietly with reporters, a few others staring straight ahead. A year ago, they had strong starting pitching and an emerging corps of relievers and a lineup full of patient hitters, but the roster had changed and there had been numerous injuries, some of them dating back to last fall's championship run. The season had been an enormous struggle, and this was the end: "We won 95 games, tied for the division title, and there's no reason we can't walk out of here with our heads high."

But they understand that many are probably walking out for the last time, from Millar to catcher Doug Mirabelli, perhaps even center fielder Johnny Damon, who is eligible for free agency.

"I hope I'm back," said Damon, who appeared to be on the edge of tears. "I fell in love with Boston. Hopefully, I'll be here a long time."

There had been a sense of apprehension in Fenway Park the whole day, with the crowd unusually reserved from the outset. The White Sox had scored two runs in the third inning after there were two out, and even in the highest level of the ballpark, you could distinctly hear the small shouts of the Chicago players, like Whos down in Whoville. The Red Sox tied the score on back-to-back homers from David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez, but in the top of the sixth, Paul Konerko drove a high knuckler from Tim Wakefield over the left field wall. The White Sox needed only 12 more outs to close out the world champions -- but you knew it wasn't going to be easy, Chicago catcher A.J. Pierzynski said.

Freddy Garcia threw 96 pitches in the first five innings and then sat through a long White Sox at-bat in the top of the sixth; Boston had changed pitchers three times. Two pitches into the bottom half of the sixth, Ramirez drove a monstrous homer over the left field wall, cutting the White Sox lead to a run.

Lefty Damaso Marte relieved Garcia, with two lefties and a switch-hitter due to swing among the next three batters. But Trot Nixon singled and then Bill Mueller walked, Marte struggling to find the plate while the White Sox complained angrily about the strike zone being called by home plate umpire Mark Wegner.

Marte walked John Olerud to load the bases -- still nobody out -- and Ozzie Guillen came out to change pitchers, summoning Hernandez. After taking the ball from Marte, Guillen turned and screamed at Wegner, turning away, turning back, screaming some more. Konerko put a glove on his shoulder to calm the manager. The White Sox were on edge.

Hernandez trotted in, a spare part on the White Sox pitching staff after getting bumped out of the rotation but more than familiar with the pressure of the postseason. He had flourished in past playoffs and World Series for the Yankees, going 9-2 with a 2.51 ERA; before that, he had pitched elimination games for the Cuban national team, feeling there was more at stake than mere wins and losses in those situations.

"Let's go, you've been here before," Pierzynski said, and Hernandez nodded.

Jason Varitek pinch-hit for Mirabelli, and Hernandez immediately locked in on Varitek's late-season weakness: At the end of a long season, the swing of the Boston catcher is a little longer, a little slower, and Hernandez pumped fastballs at him, the velocity climbing gradually, 89 mph, then 91 mph, then 92. Varitek popped up. One out.

Tony Graffanino was next, in a perfect position to redeem himself after his error in Game 2; the Fenway crowd had cheered when he was introduced, as if to prop him up. Graffanino went to the plate focused on making solid contact, through the middle of the field.

"My approach was almost like a two-strike count from the get-go, because of the type of pitcher he is," said Graffanino.

Hernandez's first fastball to the infielder was 93 mph, a surprise.

"I didn't think he threw that hard any more," Graffanino confessed.

He fouled off that pitch, and another, and four more during the at-bat, Hernandez throwing sliders and fastballs and even one slow curve, changing arm angles. The count was full. After the ninth pitch, Hernandez called his catcher to the mound and told him what he wanted to do, in Spanish; Pierzynski didn't understand at first, and Hernandez repeated.

"I want to throw a slider inside," El Duque said, which was a gamble, because if the ball hung, Graffanino might whack it off the left field wall.

Graffanino settled into the box, trying to protect all quadrants of the strike zone, unsure what Hernandez might throw at him. With a slider, Hernandez might walk in the tying run, but Graffanino knew Hernandez would throw any pitch in any count.

El Duque spun the slider, and Graffanino lifted it over the infield, a pop-up to short. Two outs.

Damon was next, the last hope to salvage the rally, and Hernandez opened the at-bat by dropping in a slow curve, 73 mph. The count went full again, with Damon fouling off a 3-2 pitch. Pierzynski went out to the mound again. Hernandez put his glove over his mouth.

"Slider, down the middle, medium," Hernandez said, and Pierzynski nodded, knowing that what El Duque meant to do was start the slider over the center of the strike zone and have it break down and in.

Damon looked for a fastball, and when the slider broke, he was helpless, committed, and failed to check his swing; end of inning. The small voices in the Chicago dugout took over Fenway Park again.

"When we signed this kid -- I don't know if he's a kid -- a couple of people called and said, 'You need a big guy in the playoffs,'" said Guillen. "I went to him because he's the only guy with more experience."

The White Sox got the last nine outs, and Hernandez puffed clouds from a long cigar afterward and had a small smile when somebody asked him what brand he was smoking.

"The cigar says," he said, "'Congratulations Chicago White Sox.'"

Buster Olney is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine. His book, "The Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty," is available in paperback and can be ordered through HarperCollins.com.