Statistically, we’re going to win one. Live blogging: Sox vs Stanks. ILLUSTRATED.
It is 12:30. In 35 minutes. There is going to be a baseball game. And I will illustrate it. Join me. LIVE. Because. Um. None of us should be alone right now.
“It’s going to be a long day here at the stadium.”
Yes, Jup. We WILL start today. We WILL.
I like how the announcers are saying more mean things about AJ Burnett than they are about us.
“The Red Sox slide…”
“That’s how you lose games. Amazing.”
And Pedroia is out at first.
It’s okay, guys. It’s okay.
A bunt. And Gardner gets a single. From a BUNT.
“There was not enough salt last Sunday,” announcer said. He’s been waiting since Sunday to say that.
Announcer says Salty is not great at Wake catching. Yep. I see that. I mean, he seems to ALWAYS catch for Tim. But. Um.
And a terrible throw by Salty. And now Gardner is on second.
How long do you think it’s going to take for the announcers to give us another salt pun?
And Jeter bunts a single
“They’re doing small ball here.”
The Jorge chants make me want to VOMIT.
2-0. 2-0. 2-0. And it’s… SALTY’s fault.
Russell Martin. Yep. HE is the one we want to walk. YEP.
Salty, there is only one way you can fix this. By scoring 3 runs for every run you give them. THREE. So far, you owe us SIX runs. SIX.
Oh, and I wasn’t counting that error. Let’s just round it up to EIGHT runs.
Derek Jeter twisted his ankle awhile ago. Did you see that? That was neat.
No. I don’t like the ankle twisting. Even if it’s a Stank. I have ankle issues, you see.
Caught by Scut. And. We are in the second inning. WHATEVER.
And I’ve decided on THIS.
You’re a creative bunch. You can apply this to baseball.
Oh look. A double play.
Thanks for that, universe.
Okay. That’s it. Do you have a computer in the dugout?
A computer? With maybe a plasma screen?
Because there is something you all need to see.
It’s like eight minutes, but watching this is more productive that watching you:
Okay, quick! Play the video!
Lackey, take notes on the dry erase board.
Maybe the universe wants something from us. Like. Um. A hunger strike.
Okay. How about this. I will go on a grilled cheese strike.
A grilled cheese strike.
That is my absolute favorite food. And I eat grilled cheese sandwiches every day. But NO MORE. Not until we win. I am on a grilled cheese strike. Okay. Your turn. What will you give up, Soxies?
Andrew, you should give up Jameson. Oh, and FDA, you should give up cursing. Oh! And farmville. Because both of those things seem equivalent to grilled cheese sandwiches. Peter, you should give up being sick, because I miss you. Jeb, you should give up… um… the stock market.
UNTIL WE WIN.
Hmmm. I should have waited until lunch to give up grilled cheese.
Oh look. Crawford catches. 1, 2, 3. Nice.
Cheering on everything I can.
First out by a guy named DICKerson.
Two outs. And now they’re talking about how the Orioles are the “fly in the ointment” and I totally don’t understand what that means. Another out. Going into bottom of the fricking third.
I miss winning.
And Kevin Youkilis.
We have an out. And a person on first. And Posada is back. The walking, talking, batting neck.
And Salty looks like he’s TRYING to do the juggling thing, but he lacks confidence.
A TWO RUN HOMERUN. I want. To. Die.
I don’t want to paint anymore.
Wake struck HIM out.
He was probably distracted by the neck.
Andrew Miller is warming up.
Russell Martin. The hater. The Kevin Gregg wannabe.
“You do wonder, how does that quote help the Yankees?” announcer said.
Martin “works a walk.”
Yeah. YEAH. Smack him down. Caught stealing.
A grilled cheese would hit the spot.
“I had no love for the Red Sox either when I played,” announcer said.
I’m so glad YOU are announcing.
I am so unhappy.
HOMERUN FOR ELLSBURYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
THE ONLY MEMBER OF THE RED SOX WHO REMEMBERS HOW TO PLAYYYYYYYYYYYY
4-1. ONE. We’re on the board! We’re on the board! We’re on the board! We’re on the board!
Pedroia! There’s one out. and one RUN. One RUN. Match it, please.
Okay. No one is watching this in the world but me. No one.
My mother just called and, apparently, they’re so distraught they are watching the Panthers’ game.
“Because they can win.”
So, I’m doing some dishes and blogging at the same time. So, if I miss something. Sigh. Leave me blissful in my ignorance?
Come back in time to see CARL CRAWFORD JUGGLE THE BALL.
Crudmuffins. This is the worst game.
When old people like Derek Jeter have your number, it’s time to reassess.
Wake, I love you, but I’m glad you are sitting down.
Remember yesterday when we scored ONCE and they switched the pitcher out? Remember that, Curt?
It’s 2:51. It’s still 5-1. Now they’re talking about “epic collapses in the history of sports.” You know. Like the Mets.
Oh. And us. And US.
Just got a call from a friend who wants to go to the Parkway.
Can’t. I said. Can’t.
Not going out until the Sox win.
I may never see the people I love again.
ANOTHER HOME RUN FOR ELLSBURYYYYYYYY!
All three hits? ELLSBURY.
THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS HOW TO PLAY.
3:06 and we’re just hanging out. This is the way most teams play this time of year. YOU KNOW. THE TEAMS THAT NO LONGER CARE. Oh look. Another bunt. Oh. A foul. Good.
Because the bunts seem to make Sox wet themselves in this game.
Bunted. And we get jackass two out but jackass one moves to second.
And now it is 6-4. And this fan stands up and takes a bow. I HATE that fan.
This is the dumbest game.
Now they’re moving out Albers and moving in Atchison.
I do not understand how they work the pitcher switches out in their minds.
Maybe it’s a dice toss or something.
Base hit for Papi! Clearly challenged by Jacoby’s badassishness.
Jeff, it’s hard to play when you’re a team of ONE.
And two outs. Look at that. And Papi went away..
And… well… maybe if we could all just NOT GET OUT, we could fly through the rotation and just wait for Jacoby…
Seriously. Posada is deformed or something. JUST a neck. With a pimple that some might call a face. I just don’t understand. And those veins. All the better for juicing, my dear.
Outs. FINALLY. I am glad that stupid 7th is over.
Where are we in the lineup?
Well. We’re on second. If you’re still watching. If anyone is still watching. Anyone… one out. Top of the 8th. 3:40 p.m…..
3:46. I hate this game.
FDA! I am so glad to see you! Do you… do you… Do you know what’s happened? Do you? It’s… it’s… HORRIBLE.
Fix it. Fix it now!
Bought off by someone… bought off by someone… Hmmm….
FDA. I think the Red Sox broke my heart today.
So, I LOVE brussel sprouts. and there’s this recipe for maple braised sprouts in Every Day Food. Is that a guy-friendly dish?
I’m planning. Because it’s either grocery list writing or watching this game.
Someone was at my door. I thought it was someone who would save us. But it’s not.
Good. I am glad the Patriots are losing. I am GLAD.
I saw some commentary that said we got our win with hockey this year.
Okay. I have a guest. She is more important than this game.
At least Pedroia is on base. Stop booing PAPI!
I hate this. We just lost.
I hate this. I am going somewhere.
I will see you later.
“They probably won’t make the playoffs. They probably don’t deserve it,” Mom said.
My optimist mother.