How Bobby Jenks and Saltalalalalalalalalalamacchia tried to stress me the frick out. Why would you do that to me, Bobby? Why? Why? Why? Is it because you weren’t loved as a child? Does it have anything to do with a beloved family pet? Because Bobby, I’m not a fricking psychologist. I’m just a girl. Trying to watch a game. Damnit.
“I was looking for Bobby — I looked at him real quick, turned around; I didn’t think the ball hit off my glove, I thought I had trapped it in the dirt,” Saltalamacchia said of the passed ball. ” Obviously not.
You let BOBBY ABREU kick your ass! You were out Bobbied and you ARE a Bobby! Damnit, Jenks.
Who ARE you and why are you trying to ruin my game?!
You deserve two chastisements! For shame!
You too, Salty.
“It was frustrating. I’ve never done that before. I can’t remember ever doing that. But we still got the win.”
Six of the past seven? Wins.
3.5 games out. Oh, and Bucky boy? We’re a half game from not last.
9:05, soxies. 9:05.
Here’s to hoping that the time machine has been destroyed for good and old school Dice-K will have to make an appearance tonight. And YES Crawford. I saw that. It was okay. It still wasn’t worth a katrillion billion dollars. Geez, Crawford. No, that’s all the recognition you get. Don’t like it? Why don’t you go journal about it?
Paps, I love you.