Pedro Martinez was 13-2 this season at Fenway Park.

"I'm just going to go out there, do my job and forget about the fact that Babe Ruth was traded in 1918 to the Yankees, or sold or whatever," Martinez said. "I don't even know the story."

Just as well, really. At 175 pounds, Martinez has the season on his skinny shoulders. New England is good and strong, so let it hold onto a century's burden. Martinez has come late to Boston's agony, maybe naive and cocky enough to believe he can change the course of history on his own.

Roger Clemens found it impossible. End the Curse of the Bambino? He tried, but failed. He can end the Red Sox dream of a World Series on Saturday, tear the heart right out of New England's chest. No one has to tell him twice. Still, he shrugs, calls Saturday another start, another game, another city, and everyone gets a good laugh over it.

Face it: These are the games Clemens gets good and tight. He'll push. He'll press. He'll squeeze the ball so tight. Clemens called his assignment "like any other start," and he's kidding no one. When Clemens walked out on the Sox three years ago, it made possible their trade for, and $75 million signing, of Martinez.

Think it doesn't bother Clemens that the Sox don't miss him, that they made out smarter with Martinez? Well think again. Clemens has an ego the size of his home state of Texas, a chip on his shoulder maybe as large. New England isn't just counting on Martinez to keep the season alive, they're counting on him to keep Clemens from killing it.

Bad enough the greatest righthander in Boston history left for Toronto, worse he returns a Yankee three years later, trying to deliver the dagger to put the Sox down 3-0 in the series. These days, Clemens has the good ghosts on his side. Twenty-four world championships to none since purchasing Ruth for $125,000, the Yankees have been merciless on the Sox.

Across 80 seasons of trying to chase a world championship, Clemens had them closest in Game 6 of the 1986 Series with the Mets. Always, they'll wonder: Why couldn't he have finished it? When the ground ball rolled under Bill Buckner's glove to end the game, Clemens had the most ashen face on the Boston bench. Officials quickly tore down the plastic coverings over the lockers in the Red Sox clubhouse at Shea Stadium, hurried champagne out.

Clemens had been on the brink of extinguishing the demons, holding the Mets to one earned run over seven innings, when a blister on his throwing hand -- his manager John McNamara insisted -- made Clemens ask out of the game. Even now, Clemens disputes it. Whatever. He left the game, and the Sox collapsed. He had to sit in the still of Shea Stadium that night and wonder whether it was all true, whether The Curse lived to haunt these Sox.

"You hear about curses, and all that," Clemens admitted this week. "Babe Ruth will always be there."

Pedro Martinez isn't so sure. Believe in what? A curse? No, no. This is his season, starting with the striking out of Murderer's Row in the All-Star Game, sitting down 17 Yankees in a game late in the season and rescuing the Red Sox with six hitless innings in Cleveland. Maybe it's time for the Sox to believe in something besides The Curse, like the promise of his golden arm. It happens to be the final hope of the century.

Adrian Wojnarowski, a columnist for the Bergen (N.J.) Record, is a regular contributor to ESPN.com. He can be reached at NJCOL1@aol.com.