For Ken Giles, Saturday night was the loneliest night of the week

Astros manager A.J. Hinch (left) gives his battered closer Ken Giles a hand upon lifting him after Cody Bellinger's tiebreaking double Saturday night. Catcher Brian McCann is behind them.

Astros manager A.J. Hinch (left) gives his battered closer Ken Giles a hand upon lifting him after Cody Bellinger’s tiebreaking double Saturday night. Catcher Brian McCann is behind them.

In 1944, Frank Sinatra recorded one of his classic contrast songs, a jaunty swinger with a melancholy lyric. “Saturday night is the loneliest night in the week/I sing the song that I sang for the memories I usually seek,” goes one couplet.

Astros closer Ken Giles might have held onto a couplet like that after Game Four of the World Series.

“It was weird. You’re getting cheered for getting yelled at.”

Eckersley in Fenway Monday night, receiving maybe baseball's first known standing O "for getting yelled at."

Eckersley in Fenway Monday night, receiving maybe baseball’s first known standing O “for getting yelled at.”

Dennis Eckersley got a standing O Monday night in Fenway Park. Not for pitching, though even at 62 the Hall of Famer looks like he could still go out to the mound and shut the other guys down to secure yet another win. The Red Sox honour assorted team legends at each home game, and Monday night was Eckersley’s turn.

The Price is wrong about Dennis the Menace

Dennis Eckersley (second from left) and Kirk Gibson (second from right), once World Series warriors, now banded with Tony La Russa (left) and Joe Torre (right) on behalf of Torre's foundation for neglected and abused children.

Dennis Eckersley (second from left) and Kirk Gibson (second from right), once World Series warriors, now banded with Tony La Russa (left) and Joe Torre (right) on behalf of Torre’s foundation for neglected and abused children.

If one thing above and beyond his pitching ability marked Dennis Eckersley’s career, it was accountability. Surrender a game-ending bomb to a Dodger batter who was lucky he didn’t need to swing from a wheelchair in the first game of a World Series? Eckersley didn’t shrink. Nobody said baseball was simple. Dennis the Menace would have called that person a liar.

Homer Bailey, One, None, and Done

Spreading his wings after no-no-ing the Pirates . . .

“Late success,” Sandy Koufax once mused, “is quieter.” I’m not entirely convinced it’s true in Homer Bailey’s case, since he’s gone from a seventh-overall 2004 draft pick to a shaky major league beginning despite the ballyhoo to standing on top of the world, or at least the PNC Park mound with his Cincinnati Reds owning the National League Central, and himself proving, at long enough last, he belonged in any serious Reds rotation plans.