Well, it’s officially a cluster f#$%. And I am TOO MAD to use your real pictures.
“We met this morning to look back on the 2011 season and to consider the future of the Boston Red Sox, including my involvement with the club. I passed along my frustrations at my inability to effectively reach the players. After many conversations and much consideration, I ultimately felt that, out of respect to this team, it was time for me to move on. I’ve always maintained that it is not only the right, but the obligation, of ownership to have the right person doing this job. I told them that out of my enormous respect for this organization and the people in it, they may need to find a different voice to lead the team.
In my eight seasons as manager of the Boston Red Sox, I have developed a tremendous appreciation for Red Sox Nation. This is a special place with some of the most knowledgeable and passionate fans in all of baseball. They packed Fenway Park for every game and because of them, I had a special sense of pride coming to work every day. I want to thank John, Tom, Larry and Theo for giving me the opportunity to manage this team through some of the most successful years in this franchise’s history. I wish the entire organization and all of Red Sox Nation nothing but the very best.”
From John Henry, Tom Werner and Larry Luchino:
“We met with Terry Francona, Theo Epstein and Ben Cherington Friday morning to discuss the 2011 season, ways to improve the club in the future, and Tito’s status. During the meeting, Tito, Theo and Ben agreed that the Red Sox would benefit from an improved clubhouse culture and higher standards in several areas. Tito said that after eight years here he was frustrated by his difficulty making an impact with the players, that a different voice was needed, and that it was time for him to move on. After taking time to reflect on Tito’s sentiments, we agreed that it was best for the Red Sox not to exercise the option years on his contract.
We have enormous respect, admiration and appreciation for Tito and the job that he did for eight years, including two World Series Championship seasons and five playoff appearances. His poise during the 2004 post-season was a key factor in the greatest comeback in baseball history, and his place in Red Sox history will never be forgotten. We wish him only the best going forward.”
From Theo Epstein:
“Tito and I didn’t know each other when he was hired eight years ago, but over time we developed not only a great working relationship but also a personal friendship that will always be important to both of us. He proved to be an unflappable leader for our major league club, displaying consistency, calmness, hard work, thoughtfulness, a sense of humor, and faith in the players even at the most difficult of times. Without Tito’s commitment over eight years, we would not be the organization we are today. Nobody at the Red Sox blames Tito for what happened at the end of this season; we own that as an organization. This year was certainly a difficult and draining one for him and for us. Ultimately, he decided that there were certain things that needed to be done that he couldn’t do after eight years here, and that this team would benefit from hearing a new voice. While this may be true, his next team will benefit more than it knows from hearing Tito’s voice. I will miss seeing Tito every day in the manager’s office, and I wish him and his family nothing but the best in their next chapter.”
I am full of hate.
I have SOOOOO much to say. You don’t even know. But I am not ready. NOT. YET.
In other news, I just got Skype for an interview and I hate it.
And it’s windy and cold.
And I’m working too much. TOO MUCH.
Okay. I know I said I needed to breathe. I know I said that.
AND THEN I READ THIS.
The Boston Red Sox and manager Terry Francona are expected to part ways today after Boston’s epic collapse in the final month of the 2011 MLB regular season. What should the Red Sox do to replace the manager who brought them two World Series titles after 86 years of futility and heartbreak? Turn to former New York Yankees manager Joe Torre, that’s what.
WHO is doing this? WHO? THIS is why business people should NOT write about sports.
Joe TORRE? TORRE?
Do you remember… were you there… do you know… do you KNOW how irritating he was? HE MADE ME GRIND MY TEETH, Soxies. HE MADE ME GRIND MY TEETH.
REMEMBER 2004? REMEMBER? Remember how good it was to defeat, not just the Yankees, not just Steinbrenner, but JOE TORRE? JOE TORRE.
Back to breathing. Your regularly ranty Lauren will be back eventually. She just needs to BREATHE.
WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE WORLD????????
Or… maybe he was PUSHED.
I don’t know what happened. I’m not ready to TALK about what happened. Maybe tomorrow.
I have things to say. Believe me. I have a LOT of things to say. But I’m kind of trying to breathe for a day or so. I’m trying to focus on… something else.
But Tito? Tito gave us two World Series when all the world could give us was a Jimmy Fallon movie and some Yankees puns.
Tito gave us TWO WORLD SERIES. TWO.
And now we’re giving him the axe, the Buckner scapegoat medal and a passive aggressive handshake.
I’m not ready to talk about this. But I’m sure ready to stew over it. I’m ready to stew and stew and stew and hold it all inside like a pressure cooker of bitterness and wit.
When I am ready to talk about this, get ready. It will be like a Papel-bomb. (Except successful. And scary.)
Yep. That just happened. Nope. Still not ready to talk about it…
Texts I received last night:
“Sux for you.”
“Told you so.”
“Let’s root for the Tigers.”
“Keep your chin up.”
And four missed phone calls.
Oh, and to the eight people that found this blog by searching “Curt Young Dead,” I… I… I just don’t know.
Last stand. Live blogging the stages of grief so you don’t have to live through them. Sox vs O’s, the game that counts.
Last stand is a loose military term used to describe a body of troops holding a defensive position in the face of overwhelming odds. The defensive force usually takes very heavy casualties or is completely destroyed, as happened in “Custer’s Last Stand” at the Battle of Little Big Horn.
“We’re either going to be good enough or we’re not…We can write this ending however we choose. We can be the team that got beat up, came back, put it together and went on this great run, or we can allow this to defeat us. Hopefully, we have enough to have it be the first. That’s obviously how we feel.”
Okay. I mean, I’ve heard better peptalks, Tito.
Oh, and this one:
But yours is fine too. Um.
So… less than two hours to go. AL Wildcard waiting.
I feel like a vodka tonic. Do you feel like a vodka tonic?
Please blog with me tonight, starting 7ish. None of us should be alone, Soxies. Not tonight. Not tonight.
I can’t talk about this.
6:20. ESPN says lots of things, FDA. BUT SO DO WE. <- did that look confident?
Andrew. Please don’t die or, um, something. New York can be a scary place in that Youk jersey…
Hi, Kristen. You can cheer for the Red Sox if you want… I saw someone in an Angels shirt today and thought of you. Because it’s a rare sight in North Carolina.
6:50 p.m. On my way to the bar. Condiments, be afraid. Be VERY afraid.
This game is maddening.
First. I call bar.
Bar says, we have internet AND Sox game.
See, I have work to do. Not just the blog. WORK.
Go to bar. It is on the fricking Braves game.
Jeb makes fun of me because of my teenage angstiness.
THREE people make fun of my Youk jersey.
It takes them NINETEEN minutes to turn the Sox game on.
There is NO internet.
And A FRICKING RAIN DELAY.
It is 10:01. I just got home. Because rain delays are not worth my time or money at bars.
FDA! You would have me date a Pirates fan?!
And I am not available.
I’ve been practicing that.
You should not read news this week, FDA. You should not read news.
So. Now we’re just waiting on a rain delay…
Well… the Stanks are winning…
I REALLY can’t handle a game tomorrow. I need sleep. I need to go watch my old theatre director in “High Country Dancing With the Stars” (watching Gary do the mambo is kind of a goal of mine). Oh. AND I NEED SLEEP.
WHAT? WHAT are they doing, FDA?
The Yankees are not loading on my computer, sneaky devils.
Jeb and I met this Stanks fan at the bar. We talked because he is from Florida. Oh, and he was old and gimpy and endearing. Right. And he said he rooted for the Red Sox in 04 but that it was hard for him to root for them any other time. And I said that, since I was rooting for his team tonight, he should take the peace feather and climb aboard the Sox bandwagon.
He said okay.
It’s ’cause I’m pretty.
WHY IS IT RAINING, FDA???!!!! FIX IT.
YES. YOU CARE. Do not give up on me, FDA. DO NOT GIVE UP ON ME.
7-6???? Really????? How does that even happen????????
Did they really accomplish that in… like… an INNING?
ohmygod! So, I’m watching these two cats. And one cat is adorable and awesome. And one cat hates me and tries to kill me in my sleep. And devil cat just cuddled on my lap! For like a minute! And didn’t scratch me in the face! So I took a picture to prove it! Side bar, yes, but more cheerful than the game!
Okay. I am working on my articles. Hopefully, I will be awake when this game restartssssss….
JEB, don’t MAKE me give the Red Sox fans more make-fun-of-you fodder…
TIED? I got disgusted with 7-6 and turned it off.
This is CHEAP.
What? What? Rain delay over? Aceves? Aceves! Hi! I sure am glad to see you…
HIT HIM? Damnit.
The goal is to NOT get the on base.
“How long can Franconca ride this horse?”
Ow. 14th batter Aceves has hit this year. Well, he did play for the Yankees, and I imagine that takes a while for you to get over.
Bottom of the 9th, extra innings in Stank game, Atlanta’s tied too…
Aceves used in four straight games.
And he hit this guy in the neck. So he is going to load the bases with hit-by-pitch?
And now the ump is involved?
Curt Young, when are you going to go talk to YOUR PITCHER?
Bard AND Morales in bullpen.
Aceves, please work your stress out on a punching bag or something, not an Oreo.
That batter was scared. He did a little mini-dodge. Can’t say I blame you.
Aceves looks like he is trying to exterminate you all.
Seriously. WHY are you doing this, Oreos? You have nothing to gain by a win. NOTHING. Just spite. SPITE.
SPITE and CRUELTY.
Buck Showalter just rolled his eyes. BLAH.
Did you see the Oreo who threw his helmet when he was out at first earlier? That was hilarious.
Yikes. That just tried to kill Lavarnway. Right in the mask.
Okay, Aceves. You can hit him with a ball if you want to.
NO. I didn’t mean that. Please do not hit the bases loaded, Aceves.
And they are playing the Jaws theme. Which would work if your team was a FISH name. Baltimore, YOU MAKE NO SENSE.
Strike out to crowd adoration. Interesting how many Soxies are in your house, yes, Baltimore? I am trying to stay awake. But if I stop typing… it’s because I fell asleep on my keyboard again…
This game is killing me.
I HATE this announcer.
I HATE this game.
I HATE mlb.
AND I HATE this game.
Aviles is out.
AND WE COMPLETELY- COMPLETELY- WASTE TIME I COULD HAVE SPENT SLEEPING.
I canNOT believe I have fought sleep for this.
Out one. Okay.
Out two. Okay.
Out three. OKAY.
9 Sooooo tired..
Got that, Jon Lester? Only ONE. Here. Let me illustrate it for you using the cult classic, Highlander.
We’ve got this. Oh. We’ve got this.
And today, that’s literal…
So, Soxies. It’s been a great season. And… if… if…
You know I love you guys, right?
Any last words?
I don’t know what to say, Soxies. I do not know what to say.
I don’t know. I had kind of a roller-coaster, Jerry Springerish night. Throw in a Beckett implosion, and I don’t think I’m fit to be around people. Sigh. Could someone else do the pep talk today? Because I’m spent.
You heard me. I REFUSE. Jacoby Ellsbury won a game yesterday, damnit. Haters? You can go the way of the Oreos. Don’t know the direction? Watch later today. Because we are going to shoot those Oreos out of the sky. Oh. Orioles. Right. I’m hungry. Sorry. One’s just wasted calories and the other’s a delicious cookie. It’s easy to get confused.
So, my day is splendid. I just learned I get to do field sobriety testing with the police department Wednesday. They called to ask me if cranberry and vodka will be okay. They said I could watch the baseball game in between tests. So it looks like I am going to have a very good Wednesday.
I’m not sure if I will be live blogging tonight or not. But I will be watching the crap out of the Orioles. THE CRAP OUT OF THEM. Especially you, Kevin Gregg. Because I get off work at SEVEN.
And my facebook status will be changed momentarily from “I am in love. Again. His name is Jacoby Ellsbury and we will be very happy together” to “Let’s punch Kevin Gregg in the face.”
Soxies, what’s your status on this fine, glorious, post-Jacoby victory day? Best status wins a paint photo illustration. And, if the last two days have taught you nothing, it’s that I am very talented.
In other news, I cut my hair.
Took a walk.
And went to work.
Two of these things were great. One sucked.
I am having an emotional affair with Jacoby Ellsbury. I can’t help it. Kevin Youkilis. The hernia. He just… He just can’t satisfy me right now like Jacoby can. Does that make me a bad person? I don’t know. But I can’t help the way I feel. And Jacoby, I can’t quit you baby.
In honor of Jacoby’s single-handed victory, I thought I would create a thank you card. I’d use construction paper and crayons and scotch tape and glitter and it would be even more glorious than that macaroni art I made Josh Beckett that one time. But, since you people kept me up all night with your stupid hundred thousand inning game, I don’t have time to wait for glitter to dry.
So, I am creating this blog post so we can all give thanks to the victor which is NOT Terry Francona. It is NOT Curt Young. It is NOT John Lackey. The person, the only person, that won THIS game is Jacoby Ellsbury. Please leave your “Dear Jacoby” thank yous in the comments section.
I will start.
I would have your babies.
Thanks for playing baseball, understanding the rules and actually trying.
All my love,
Your turn, America!
I love the Red Sox.
WHO’S WITH ME??????
6:49 p.m. Apparently not the Red Sox. Because they are down 3-0.
6:52. Two outs. This is stupid.
6:55 p.m. I could be watching “Babe, Pig in the City” right now.
6:57 p.m. To recap. It is the nightcap. John Lackey is pitching. And it is the bottom of the second. A horrible game. And Teix just got a hit. And Carl Crawford couldn’t find it. And then he just threw the ball randomly. And it rolled around a little. And now we’re looking at whether it was a foul or whatever. Of course they won’t rule it a foul. Of course. But now jackass is out at third anyway. The Sox think this will make me feel better. STOP PANDERING TO ME, RED SOX. I mean, the Stank got a single. Oh. And another single. So there’s TWO now on base. But, whatever. WHATEVER. The indifference is scathing. SCATHING. It’s like boiling tar indifference. Oh, look, Curt Young appears at the mound. Which is like the first time I’ve seen you, so I think this is the first time you ran out of whatever your equivalent of sunflower seeds is. It’s probably like, now and later or some kind of really sticky, tooth pulling candy. I bet you have a lot of cavities, CURT YOUNG. Whatever. WHATEVER. I mean, there’s only one out. And, oh look. Another hit. Pedroia catches. So. There’s two outs. I mean, it’s better than one out. I mean, Lackey can’t get an out. So any out is an out. OUT. Please? John Lackey. Lackey. Slackey. It is 7:02 and I have this weird mash up of gross indifference and numbing anger. So it’s like I’m … numb. It’s an interesting feeling, really, feeling the hope rush out of your veins. Tingly. I mean, I’ve felt it before (thanks, Red Sox). I just kind of… I don’t know… thought the numbness was over and that… Oh. A catch. Okay.
Annnnnd that’s over.
The commercials are more intriguing than this game.
And pop out. POP. OUT.
Marco Scutaro. Hi, Marco Scutaro. Hi.
You got a hit, Marco Scutaro. YOU know how to play. YOU watched the Goofy video.
YOU don’t hate me.
It’s nice to have SOMEONE I can trust.
Oh, Jason Varitek! I am so glad to see you. So glad. I mean, I knew you were catching. I knew that. But watching you bat, it’s like… like… I love you, Jason Varitek. Because you WANT to win. It’s you and me and Marco and Jacoby. It is only us now.
Oh. You’re out, Jason Varitek. YOu are out. And… Um…
Okay. I will… I will respect your… THAT’S CRAP, TEK.
Jacoby. Jacoby will save us. We don’t need you. We don’t need anyone. It’s Jacoby and me and Marco. We’re going to start a band. A BAND. It will be called the winners. You can start a band and you can call it the losers. Or the Lackeys. Which is a synonym for the Losers.
Our band is going to be so cool, Jacoby. Soooooo cool. Oh. You’re out. Oh.
It’s okay. You’re still in the band. I guess.
But Scut, don’t be getting any ideas.
John Lackey clearly wants to be the band frontman since he is sucking.
I mean, there’s one out. But he still sucks.
You still suck, John Lackey.
You know, a surprising number of people find this website by googling “Lackey sucks.”
Mark Teixeira is evil. Does clumsy defeat evil? Nope. Not even whimsy. I saw that look, John. Yankees fans LOVE John Lackey.
The Angels gave us John Lackey. They’re smarter than they look, FDA.
Yes, FDA. You can feel free to send me new, exciting paintshop pictures. You’re very good, and my blog needs pictures. You should illustrate this. Inning by inning. I tried to. But I got mad.
It is 7:21 and Nick Swisher doesn’t respond to my psychic head implosion glare.
There is no point hating the Rays. No point. They are too irrelevant to hate.
The Orioles too.
I reserve hate for calculated enemies. The kind that can, you know, actually beat you and not just rely on your own mound imploding in a metaphorical volcano.
Their pitcher keeps touching his pants. It’s creeping me out.
We are NOT irrelevant. We are just uninspired. Sadly, we remain relevant.
Out. Oh, Pedy…
My friend Daniel just texted: “Doing anything tonight?”
“Eating ice cream with a fork, crying and watching the box score.”
Danny Ainge is not calculated. Because I have not heard of him.
I hate I hate I hate I hate I hate.
Lackey does NOT care. Lackey HATES us.
See? See how much Lackey hates us?!
So, here’s a question worthy of more thought than this game. I might cut my hair all off tomorrow. I mean, I know I have said that before. But I really might. Thoughts? Or maybe I’ll go back to being blonde. I don’t know. Oh, and the boy is coming tomorrow (theoretically). May I could chop my hair off and dye it blonde.
So, I turned the sound off on the game, and I’m listening to Fiona Apple on Spottify. It is improving my day.
Oh look. It is still 3-1. Oh look.
HOLD THE PHONE. IS THAT JD DREW?
HOLD THE PHONE.
DID I JUST START PAYING ATTENTION? AM I HALLUCINATING?
IS THAT REALLY YOU?
HOLD THE FRICKING PHONE.
Ohmygod JD Drew it is so good to see you. I am seeing you, right? It is him, right? RIGHT?
It is! It is! it isssss!
Ohmygod. Ohmygod. OHMYGOD. Jason Varitek! You decided to get on base! AHHHHHHHHHHHH
This is the best game ever! The best game ever!
Of course, my ever bar is the past week…
I mean, I wish you had hit the ball, but throwing yourself in front of it, that’s noble.
OHMYGOD We are going to be okay, FDA.
WE ARE GOING TO BE OKAY.
Vacuuming stairs is hard.
WE ARE GOING TO BE OKAY!
What.. What? Jacoby? JACOBY? You just can’t have Drew stealing your thunder, can you?
I don’t know. I cut it short(er) last time. Maybe I should slice it all off in protest of September Sox.
FDA, we should fast.
Oh. John Lackey is still pitching. I mean, if we were the Yankees, they would have pulled him. Or the Blue Jays. See, I know that, because I PAY ATTENTION TO THE GAMES, Curt Young.
Okay. So I want to look cute, but cute casual. So, I found this purple shirt with stripes at Goodwill today and I am going to pair it with these pink hair clips. Yes? Tomorrow?
This is so much more important than this loser game. And then I have this pink glitter eyeshadow stuff that is subtler than it sounds. Yes. And black jeans. And heels. Crap. I’m not supposed to wear heels anymore. Ankles. Screw that. Heels!
Oh look. Inning over.
Maybe small heels.
There are lots of ways to fast, FDA. I am giving up grilled cheese sandwiches. You could give up cursing. You could do a cursing fast. You know. Because you like cursing!
If you spit nails, could you take a picture? I will put it on my blog and call it Kristin (or is it Kristen, I forgot already?) spitting nails.
Look. They are playing. Kinda. Pedroia, could you join the club of people that know how to play? Thanks.
They look a little selfdestructy. Nice to see that in a team that’s not us.
Since Curt Young doesn’t watch the game, maybe he should go out and get everyone ice cream so that they can eat it in front of the Yankees.
This is a terrible, terrible, terrible game.
Wait.. wait… did something… did something GOOD just happen? We’re on second AND third? AND third? Did something…
I am going to stand very very very very still.
Adrian GONZALEZ, I will HATE YOU UNTIL THE DAY I DIE AND-
Oh. We got a run.
Oh. Um. Maybe that’s why you did that.
You still can’t be in my band!
3-2? That’s… That’s… 3-2? We could… we could… I mean…
No. They NEEEEEED us, FDA. They’re like our children. You have to love them no matter what. Even when they are in meth debt. That hop thing Pedroia did just now was cute.
I mean, irrelevant, really. But cute. Kind of Harlem Globetrotty, so, clearly he reads this.
OHMYGOD My computer is working! So wordpress decided to break. Which was okay, because the Red Sox were fixed. And they were not fixed. And now Morales is messing everything up. And there is only one out. And I am so angry I could… well… did, throw things. They were ink pens. And they broke against my wall dramatically and it took me like ten, maybe fifteen minutes to clean up. DAMNITNO.
I hate this game. I hate this game. I do not understand why this is happening.
Hi, Jere and Andrew. I am glad I am not alone.
Yes. Yes. Talk to him. TALK TO HIM.
JD Drew is back. That’s good.
Andrew, this is the internet. Maybe I don’t have a shirt. Maybe I have five shirts. You don’t know.
I seriously almost died in the 9th. I was okay in the 10th and 11th. In the 12th I started to get aneurysmy again.
We go the 14th? I hope so. My computer (unsurprisingly) must be slow, because it is in the bottom of the 13th.
Okay. I’m back. I’m back, guys. SOMEBODY say SOMETHING to make me feel better.
I don’t know. I don’t know!
In the interim between broken wordpress and fixed wordpress, I turned the volume wayyyyy up on the Sox game and vacuumed my stairs. All of them. Well, except for the middle two stairs. I’m not sure how to do that. I can’t carry my vacuum (it’s huge) and the extendy tube does not reach those two stairs.
So I have some great stairs. And two crappy stairs.
It’s like the Red Sox.
And those two crappy stairs just ruin the whole team of stairs.
Now it is in the 14th! But Jere already knew that.
Okay. Seriously. Commercial break. PEPTALK TIME.
True or false… I should chop my hair off.
You are guys. You don’t care.
I miss Kevin Youkilis.
We should take bets on how many innings this will go. I’ve got five on 16.
Why are they doing this to us, Jere?
Andrew. If -I- were in New York, I’d be busy FIXING THIS.
Oh yeah. Now that I can type nooooooooo one wants to comment anymore.
Yay! We did something! We did something, guys! We’re on base again! We’re on base again! Marcoooooo Scutaroooooooo….
I must be like five minutes behind you, Jere. This is great. You can warn me before horrible things happen.
Jacoby Ellsbury will save us. He will save us all.
I have to work tomorrow. And make lasagne. And clean my kitchen. And do all of these things by like six p.m. because, theoretically, that is when the boy gets here. Even though I have a meeting at 6:30 that I kind of forgot about. Conundrum. If I don’t go to it, it won’t be in the paper. And if it’s not in the paper, it didn’t happen. And if it didn’t happen, I didn’t need to go in the first place.
I love logic.
I also love you, Marco Scutaro. Because you are on a base.
Something went out of the park? DAMN YOU MLB delay. Salty is batting right now.
I want to dance. I want to dance… damn it.
DAMN YOU, SALTY. Pop caught. But you guys know that. Jacoby at the bat. I am excited. I feel like I am going to my own surprise birthday party. I LOVE fake surprises. Must. Adjust. Makeup. Before turning doorknob…
I just fell off my couch.
I knew it was coming. You told me it was coming. I just fell off the couch.
It felt like calories, Andrew. It felt like calories and I LOVE food.
Are you crying? I’m crying. I don’t think a baseball game has made me cry since Tek got his last home run.
I need a minute with my thoughts.
I can feel again, guys! I can… feel…
It’s like… how centuries were judged before and after Christ? You know, BC? AD?
All moments from now on will be referred to as AJ.
I hate babies. But I’d have yours, Jacoby. I would.
Please, Andrew. I belong to Kevin Youkilis. And. Um. Jacoby Ellsbury. I think Kevin Youkilis would understand.
Okay. Bullpen. All you have to do is keep them from scoring three times. Think you can do that? I think…
I think I don’t trust you. Curt Young. Tito. I will blame you. I will not blame Felix Doubrant. I will blame YOU.
All I have ever wanted in my life were these three outs.
OHMYGOD I hope so. We have one out on my computer. One out. I hope we won.
You can tell me the ending. It’s okay. It’s not a Hitchcock movie.
Well. Um. Kind of. It’s kind of like Vertigo, don’t you think? But with a positive (I hope) ending.
So. Um. Not like Vertigo.
Pleasepleasepleaseplease strike out. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Felix Doubrant. I won’t make fun of you the next time you play. Probably. Just do this for me.
TWO OUTS! TWO OUTS! TWO OUTS!
Just one more. Just. One. More.
I am thrilled to fricking pieces at the prospect of winning.
And perplexed, because this took 14 sucky innings. And confused, because we win the Lackey games and lose EVERY OTHER GAME.
And angry, because this is not how I wanted to enter the post season.
And happy, because this game is a big middle finger to Tampa.
And angry, because Joe Girardi is spiteful.
And happy because I like winning. And grilled cheese sandwiches.
We… We WON! We won. WE WON.
Let me rephrase. JACOBY ELLSBURY WON.
JACOBY ELLSBURY WON.
I miss Kevin Youkilis.
I have to go to sleep.
I have so many mixed emotions.
Maybe.. maybe Lackey SHOULD pitch during the post season…
Thank you, Jere and Andrew, for sticking it out. All we have is each other.
And Jacoby Ellsbury.
I think I am happy.
Thank you, Jere. I might.