BOSTON, Mass.--No base-ball club in this fine league has pilfered victory from the cold, soul-less paws of defeat in its final stick session more than the American league squad of this city. The total instances would fit snuggly into ma's cardboard egg-storer. And in the last of the eighth frame at the Fenway park to-night, the Code of the Snake was finally cracked by the Boston batsmen.

Broadcastman Remy, once a second-sacker for the BoSocks, was honored in full, and some might say to excess, without an idea sarcastic. A wringer list of famous Franks and Francines poured into the announcing nook and just as soon were filtered out the other side as a new face pushed the old aside. The comic stylings of "Lenny" Clarke were appreciated, even by the fair-haired Heidi Watney, who was called upon and doted on by the frenetic funnyman. Former teammate "Rooster" Burleson joined Remy, and cohort Orsillo, and spoke of the Little Man's post-game barley beverage consumption: it was eternally a "three dog night" back in the playing days. The "Rooster" pulled the ultimate rookie mistake and the announcer's least best friend, continuing a conversation without pause into the between-inning advertising conference. Orsillo's predecessor, Mr. Kurtz, shared tales of past springtime Sunshine State adventures with the "Rem-dawg." And another blast from the announcing past, McDonough, shared laughs with the crew. Even Hollywood's super-star actress, Renee Russo, who many recall as Jake Taylor's love interest on the silver screen, placed a telephone call to the two-decade describer. Master of horror-literature, Stephen King, rubbed Remy's tummy with a rare Don Aase joke! (Aase may not be guffawing, having recently been bumped off the team's alphabetic top rung by tosser Aardsma.) The team owners, Masters Werner and Henry, tried their hand at comedy, giving a phony list of excuses to put on the event.

On the ball-field, after Remy's legendary ex-mates moved aside, genuine hurler "Bat" Masterson toed the 'tangle, and was bitten early by the crotalus atroces. A singleton in the second and a Tracy tri-dong in the third put smiles on the reptilian faces of the arid zoners. But "Bat" held steady for the remainder of his one hundred and one pitches. Spotless relief work by two pen-sters gave "Chris" Smith his first win at this level, and Papelbon another saved game.

The wood-wielders of The Hub actually struck first, last year's phenomenal rook Pedroia sending a hard one above the highest point on The Wall. After six innings of futility followed, some feared the four to one tally the board showed might stick. Others sat back and waited for what they now feel is manifest destiny: the Bostons will find you, wrap you in strong twine, and hold you down, foot-to-throat, until you concede the high score. The latter group of cranks, had they been betting types, would be smelling the green about now. Lugo began the glorious eighth by bingling. Ellsbury followed suit, as did Pedroia, and the deficit was just two. After two more axmen were sent to the pine, the Cuba-rican of the hot corner, Lowell, connected on another one of his patented two-jewelers, and the game was deadlocked. Earlier, God's tears rained down on the region, but now they were replaced by jubilation. The celebration continued as the Captain kicked Lowell home with the eventual contest-clincher.

In other action, the New Yorks of the A.L. were pummeled by the Pittsburgs, 12 to five. The Tampans kept pace with the front-running Bostons with a win of their own.