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Posts Tagged ‘Marco Scutaro’

How ya doin’ this morning, Tom Brady?

February 6, 2012 5 comments

I’d like to dedicate this song to Mr. Tom Brady.

I’d continue to harass you about your devastating loss to New York last night, Tom, but if TMZ is correct, you have enough problems this morning, don’t you, tough guy?

Click here, Pats fans. This will make it all better.

Congrats to PAUL for winning the TooSoxy Super Bowl contest and rightfully predicting the Brady smackdown.

While it was fun to watch the close up of sad eyes through the helmet (TB, I’m talking to YOU!)… I couldn’t actually sit through the Eli Manning dance…

Anywho, back to the GOOD part of New England- the RED SOX.

Yay, Red Sox.

—-

Reports come out today that Jason Varitek is still “deliberating.”

“He’s deliberating what he wants to do,’’ said his agent, Scott Boras.

And that deliberation has to include the very difficult reality of possible retirement.

Varitek will be 40 years old on April 11. In his heart, he believes he can still play. His body feels as good as it has in a long time. So why quit now?

That probably is his mind-set, but the reality is that there is no room on the Red Sox roster for him.

Whatever, Nick Cafardo!

But seriously, what Scott Boras SHOULD be doing? Sorting out a way for the Cap to coach. Or buying balloons for the retirement party. Please don’t send Tek to Minnesota.

Tek shouldn’t have to fight for a roster spot. I really hope that’s not the route this takes…

—-

Speaking of our classics, David Ortiz is saying he really wants to avoid arbitration. Really, Papi? Because there’s a really easy way to avoid arbitration. Don’t arbitrate!

—-

And Roy Oswalt drama is STILL going on? Seriously?

—-

A sad analysis that Josh Beckett 2011 will return in 2012.

—-

And apparently we could trade for Jason Bartlett, who, as the Bleacher Report points out today, would be a terrible, terrible idea.

Bartlett managed a batting line of .245/.308/.307/.615 in 2011.  His worst full season in his career.  If that isn’t bad enough, he broke his own record by beating his previous worst career season, which came in 2010.  His batting line then was .254/.324/.350/.675.

Hey, you know who WAS NOT having a record bad season? Marco Scutaro. Let’s see if he’s available to shortstop.

—-

In unadulterated wallowing fashion, Over The Monster has released its collection of the worst baseball moments of 2011.

The Red Sox were going to win the World Series. At least that was the prediction before the season started. After all, they signed Adrian Gonzalez. And Carl Crawford. And the pitching rotation was healthy. All signs pointed to destruction and devastation of any team that could potentially stand in their way.

Oh, how wrong that prediction felt in April.

This is too depressing to keep quoting.

Yuck.

I made my own list, if you’ll recall, last year. Here it is, if you didn’t get a chance to marvel.

On that note, have a happy Monday! I’ll be 28 tomorrow. Do you think I’ll feel like an adult?

~L

PS- If you like politics, you will giggle at the comparison between the Curse of the Bambino and Mitt Romney, made by Matthew Dowd at the National Journal:

The legendary Curse of the Bambino fell upon the Boston Red Sox when they sold Babe Ruth to the New York Yankees in the 1919-1920 season. The Red Sox went nearly a century after that without winning another World Series. The curse was lifted in 2004. But could it then have moved on to haunt another team? A political team?

Oswalt out, Jackson in. So. Um.

January 25, 2012 4 comments

Edwin Jackson. Rumor has it, we’re looking at him over Roy Oswalt. Which, you know, could answer the question, WHY THE FRICK HAVEN’T WE SIGNED ROY OSWALT?

So- is Jackson worth the Scut monies?

Like in all things, we turn to our trusty friend for the answers.

WIKIPEDIA.

Edwin Jackson, Wiki says, was born in Germany. Okay. But he’s an American professional baseball player. His father was a German army cook, see. Okay. In 2011, he was both a White Sox and a Cardinal. Mmm-K. He threw a no-hitter in 2010.

There was a time when Jackson was regarded as one of the premiere pitching prospects in baseball (after posting sub-4.00 ERAs in AA and the majors at age 19 in 2003), but poor showings in AAA and MLB after that season ended his status as a “can’t-miss” prospect.[citation needed] He made his major league debut on September 9, 2003, his 20th birthday. In that game, he pitched 6 innings, giving up just one run and out-pitched Cy Young Award winner Randy Johnson to earn his first career major league victory.

He tied with James Shields to lead Tampa to 14 victories in 2008

Jackson is one of a minority of MLB starting pitchers who relies almost exclusively on two pitches, a mid-90’s fastball and an effective power slider.[12].

No interesting personal info, wikipedia? None at all? How are we supposed to make a judgment on numbers alone?!

On July 29, 2011, Edwin Jackson pitched his first game as a Cardinal and threw 7 strong innings, leading St. Louis to a blowout win over their rivals the Chicago Cubs.

Uh oh, guys. He’s another Scott Boras. WE DON’T HAVE 214 MILLION DOLLARS! It’s okay. Breathe, Lauren. Breathe. Sometimes Scott Boras makes mega-fails. Like with Ryan Madson.

What do our friends at Over the Monster have to say?

Jackson isn’t as good as Roy Oswalt, and maybe not as good as Gavin Floyd, but at this stage, he likely would be cheaper than either: Oswalt is reportedly looking for around $8 million per year, and Floyd, while inexpensive monetarily in terms of the luxury tax, will cost the team in prospects. At the least, he is durable, averaging 208 innings per year over the last three years, and 202 over the last four, and his ERA+ since he left Tampa Bay is an above-average 108.

How about the Globe’s Peter Abraham?

For a guy who has been traded six times, the 28-year-old Jackson has pretty good numbers (a fWAR of 11.2 the last three seasons) and is a decent bet to produce a good season. But he’s also a Scott Boras client.

And the folks at Bleacher Report say Jackson is vital to “keep the Cardinals on top.”

Jackson might be a good fit… but what happened to Oswalt?

What are your thoughts, nation? Are we bargain-binning- or is this move something we can brag about on our facebook statuses?

~L

The quest for Nomahhhh. Oh, and Vicente might shoot us. With a gun.

January 23, 2012 5 comments

The quest for a new Nomahhhhhh-

It’s dominating the painnnnnnfffulllllyyyyyy boring headlines (if you can call them that) of Sox nation today, as we mourn the passing of Scutaro and quirk our confuzzled eyes at our roster. Seriously. Boston short stop=Spinal Tap drummer.

The kryptonite Nomar Garciaparra left behind when he was traded in mid-2004 has lost none of its potency in 71⁄2 years. Saturday night’s trade of shortstop Marco Scutaro to the Colorado Rockies for $6 million in salary relief — and, don’t forget, pitcher Clayton Mortensen — once again put the spotlight on the Sox’ curiously consistent inability to groom Nomar’s heir.

Other than giving the Herald’s Michael Silverman‘s inner child the chance to use words like “kryptonite,” not much is new.

That’s kind of the story of this off season: Nothing new, folks. Enjoy the cheese plate.

Nick Punto and Mike Aviles are going to tag team shortstop. So. Um. Apparently it takes two to make one Nomar. I hope it’s like those two guys in the Mighty Ducks. Remember the bash brothers? But with less time in the penalty box? Maybe it will be like Batman and Robin. I kind of think Mike is going to be Robin. I’d like to make a Captain Planet reference here, but I’m just not up to it today.

Does it really take TWO players to equal Marco Scutaro? I mean… I dig the Scut, really I do… but the math is fuzzy for me. Is it fuzzy for you? I get the why. Really, I do. But I still don’t understand the math. I don’t understand why we couldn’t unlock Lackey. Or Dice-K. Or a plethora of other money sucking black holes. And I really, really, really don’t understand why we care about luxury taxes. Or taxes in general. Aren’t our wallets supposed to be endless? Maybe you could sell your yacht, John Henry.

—-

Speaking of strange purchases, Detroit wants Johnny Damon. And Roy Oswalt (who, undoubtedly, they will buy. I have no faith in Sox’s shopping department right now). Fascinating.

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In other news, Josh Beckett is listed as the #25 “biggest hothead” in sports. Well. He is pretty hot. I don’t think his hotness is confined to his head…

Newly acquired Vicente Padilla (oh goody) is also on the list- number 19.

Red Sox pitcher Vicente Padilla never met a batter he didn’t want to hit with a baseball; he’s pegged an impressive 106 batters in his career so far.

Vicente, do you take requests?

He also apparently shot himself- accidentally- in 2009. Oh, goody.

A nasty temper and a deadly weapon are an excellent combination.

Oh. This is funny. Apparently he nailed Mark Teixera in consecutive at-bats in 2009.

Does Vicente remind you of anyone?

Good job with the bargain binning, Benny C.

No Yankees made the hothead list. And no Kevin Greggs either.

—-

In other news, Doug Mirabelli isn’t even PLAYING and he’s winning. So maybe we should snatch him up too. Why the frick not? Dougie, want to come home?

And, if you want to sigh an audible awwwwww at work today, read this.

~L

JUST IN- Scut scoots away. And we get… um… somebody?

January 21, 2012 8 comments

So. Um. Just in. We’re. Um. Scut-less. We better get a great pitcher. A GREAT one. We traded with… let’s see… the Rockies. So a great pitcher would be… Oh. Right.

Crap.

~L

Update- hearing it’s Clayton Mortensen. Clay Mortensen. Okayyyyy.

Let’s meet you, courtesy of Wikipedia.

On the night of 2 October 2009, Mortensen was arrested on suspicion of drunken driving and spent the night in the Santa Clara County jail.

Okay.

Um. Anyone else feel another beer and chicken joke coming?

Oh no. Don’t read this article on a Rockies loss in June. It sounds too dejavuzy. You will shudder and have Bard-bad-streak-flashbacks. Here’s an excerpt.

Clayton Mortensen, at this moment the saddest man in Colorado, was muttering to himself as he trudged to the Rockies’ dugout.

His shoulders sagged. His right arm was hanging low. He kept talking, with himself as the only audience, as he approached his teammates.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Scoot away from the Scut!

January 21, 2012 5 comments

Are you seeing this? Rumors abound that a Scutaro trade could be a-foot.

Scut was actually useful. USEFUL. Could we stop this crazy talk, Benny V?

Let’s talk more imports than exports, guys. Who we can get. Not who we can kick out.

The theory is- Scut would free up the $$$ to get pitchers. Okay. Great. I like pitcher $$$.

Someone explain again why we can’t do that with Lackey? He’d be a GREAT export.

Apparently the Scut deal fizzled… but if they’re shopping Scut, more deals could be on the horizon. Wonder how the folks at the Scut blog feel about this development.

What’s your take on Mr. Marco? Leave the scoop on the Scut in the comments section.

~L

PS- it is snowing in Delaware. See?

Hmm. You can't really see in this picture, can you?

I am terrified. Because I have to drive to the Philly airport in the am. Stupid snow. It follows me. I’m telling you…

PPS- I like Delaware. Because you never have to pay for drinks. More on this later.

Just can’t win.

August 4, 2011 7 comments

Inspired by fellow blogger Jup.

Jup, you see, doesn’t like Jacoby Ellsbury (who she calls Pretzels). And is unapologetic about it:

You’re not getting me on that bandwagon. It looks crowded, and I’m not that social. After giving it thirty seconds of thought, Pretzels has Kevin Cash syndrome. No matter what he does, no matter how well he plays, I won’t like him, and I don’t have a legitimate reason.

I get it.

No, I do.

I am a staunch Jacobist. Always will be (as long as he stays anti-juice) thanks to a well-timed home steal against Pettitte that one time.

But it got me thinking…

Who’s that player that you’re unapologetic about? Who’s that player that can’t do right by you, even if they work the win?

I have two, really. You know my anti-Lackeyness… (who I grimace at even on the few outings where he kicks) but unless you’ve been paying close attention- you may not know about my anti-Jed Lowrie-ness. I can’t explain it, really. I think it’s because he’s always injured. But Dice-K is always injured. And much more of a liability. And I find myself missing him, that little smirk he does when he sizzles. You know?

Jed Lowrie? I don’t even miss him when Scut anti-sizzles. You know. That thing he has been doing ALL THE TIME lately.

So who is it that cringes your last nerve? That you force yourself to watch? That you root for BECAUSE he’s on the home team?

And, on the other side of the spectrum… who do you unapologetically defend with every fiber in your fan being, often for no reason? Who will always be on your fantasy team? Even when he’s swinging strikes and falling face first into the baseball dirt on his way back to the dugout?

I don’t have a player like that. Nope.

KEVIN YOUKILIS DOES NOT COUNT. HE IS PERFECT.

~L

Non-Sox fans? Same question.

200 or BUST.

August 3, 2011 4 comments

4:23. At work. Explaining to someone the tradition that is Tim Wakefield.

So, betting time. I’ve got all my imaginary money on a win. That’s approximately 127,450 imaginary dollars. Imaginary dollars that I was saving for my imaginary boat and my imaginary high-interest mutual fund. It’s all I have left after purchasing my imaginary island last week with my imaginary savings. If I lose it, I’ll be marooned.

What do you think, Soxies? Is today the day that Father Time… um… Father Tim will deliver double hundreds?

See you in a few hours!

—-

6:15. Getting off work. Step closer to being able to watch entirety of actual game…

—-

HILARIOUS story about Alex Rodriguez on Deadspin (thanks, Jeb!).

New York Yankees star Alex Rodriguez played in an underground, illegal poker game where cocaine was openly used, and even organized his own high-stakes game, which ended with thugs threatening players.

Check it out while you tailgate.

—-

7:15. Okay. Carlos Carrasco. There’s something funky about the video on MLB.tv today… anyone else experiencing this? Checkerboards? No? Just me.

Jacoby chops to first. First out.

I wish they would stop spitting in public. It’s embarassing.

This is frustrating already. two outs. Sorry, Pedroia. I thought it was a homer too.

Gonz has an extremely dramatic single. Jacoby would have made that a triple. But whatever. The crowd goes silent as Youkie steps up to the plate. Okay. I may have assisted with the mute button on my computer…

Okay. They’re picking on Youkilis. The announcers say they’re picking on Youkilis. STOP PICKING ON YOUKILIS.

Thank you. With that complete and utter fail, Cleveland, you stopped. And helped my husband have one hell of a double. Okay, sound. You can come back again.

Papi at the plate. This MLB feed is really going to annoy me. I can tell. Base hit! Youkie! Gonz! 2-0 lead. 2-0. I like how this is going. Yes. Go team 200. That’s what I will call you all today. Team 200. Do it for Wake. Do it.

Carl Crawford, buddy, pal, friend, let’s widen the cushion, shall we? Let’s spread out that cushion like a picnic blanket. Like throat coating cough syrup. Like… like a home run.

Out. Okay. Um. First inning. Two runs. Okay.

Top of the second. 7:29. Travis Hafner. at the plate. Strike two.

Youkie in the shortstop spot (????) throws him out.

K.

Carlos Santana who has shifted from catcher to first base? What a weird game.

Okay, announcers. I don’t want to know how well the batters hit against Timmy. This is not helpful information for my pro-200 mindset. You will go on mute again. Mute, I say.

Steeeerike. First K of the night.

Knucklin’. Knucklin’ your way to 200. Knuckleballs look so silly. I wonder how they look coming at your face. Judging from the confuzzled expression on Konerko’s face, not pleasant.

Throws it in the dirt again.

Um. Let’s not do that.

Tim turned 45 yesterday? Why didn’t I know that? I would have thrown a party.

A-Gonz shoves in the out.

Sweetness.

7:35. I am so tired, guys.

Bottom of the second.

Not. A. Good. Sign for my awakeness…

Cleveland, I’m sorry your pitcher lost his last five starts. Really. And I’m sorry that tomorrow it will be six. Heidi Watney, I really don’t care about this. Thanks.

Reddick. Base hit. At the wall. Dramatic single. One out. But Joshy on first.

That ball almost hit Baltimore… wayyyyyy on the bottom of the wall list.

Marco Scutaro kind of looks like this guy I went out with this this one time. Not sure why I’ve never noticed that… my, what an awkward memory.

Good swing by Marco Scutaro? Um, Remy, a good swing is going to be when it’s out of the park and we’re two runs scarier.

Full count for Scut. See, I’m not worried- because Jacoby’s up next.

Fly to center… catch. Out.

Whatever, let’s see you, Jacoby.

Ball one. Okay. We can walk there. That’s fine. My computer keeps freezing on ridiculous expressions in the audience. Like this guy in a pink plaid shirt with his mouth open. He is clearly a Cleveland fan.

No offense, Bheise. You would NEVER wear that shirt.

In the air to right. Makes the catch. Ends the second. Okay. That’s fine.

—–

0-2. Top of the third. Tim Wakefield is about to be a badass. You’ll see.

Any minute now.

Pop out. Jacoby’s all over it.

Any minute now.

He just smirked. Was that a badass smirk?

Yes. Yes it was. Second strike out for Tim Wakefield.

That’s KK, for those of you paying attention at home.

Two outs.

Ground ball. Easy out.

And then Scutaro kicks it.

Scutaro kicks it?

Scutaro kicks it.

SCUTARO!

Bunt. Out at first.

Okay. Scut… you better go shake Gonz’ hand.

—-

Up the middle, base hit for Pedroia… our 5th hit of the night, by the by… on a new 5 game hit streak… Okay.

25 game streak broken by the White Sox. That one hurt.

Gonz tries the bunt. Not so much with the success.

Pedroia tagged out. Pedroia!

“That’s a helpless feeling for a baserunner, when you take off too soon,” announcer said.

Caught stealing. Bah.

Gonz grounds into the shift. Obvious out- but he runs for THAT one, notice.

Shut up, Heidi! Youkilis is batting.

Ball and a strike. I just love the Youk chant. It’s like a moan, really. Ball and two strikes. Two outs. Come on, baby. I believe in you. Want me to clap? I’ll clap. I can do that. Hell, it worked in Peter Pan.

Damn.

Clearly, you are not Peter Pan. End of inning.

—-

39 pitches for you, Timmy. 40th… a strike. And a fast ball.

Home run.

DAMN.

Okay, Timmy.

Okay. Breathe. 200. 200. Just repeat that. You know. 200 times.

Hopefully this won’t take 200 tries.

Zeeeeerooooo outs.

Chop.

Ball bounces. Ridiculously.

Clearly witchcraft. 2-2. Tie game.

Yeah, Salty. I think you SHOULD talk to Tim Wakefield. Maybe you should talk to him longer. NO outs. 2-2. 8:05 p.m.

Wild crazy pitch puts the guy to third.

Okay. Wakey. Okay. Let’s just calm down.

This inning is gross. Let’s start over. Or. Um. End it. Or something. Wake?

52 pitches. Tonight a year ago collision at the plate with Santana? Yeah. Let’s not repeat that. I’d rather Wake just strike you the frick out.

Like he just did. Making it KKK.

55 pitches. Okay. Let’s give that lonely out some friends. Two, to be specific.

Pedroia catches.

2 outs.

ONE MORE.

Thank you. Sit down.

Papi walks.

And, in the announcer booth, we’re talking about Tito bobbleheads. I really, really want one. Is that wrong? Will you buy me one?

“Where’s his finger so I can dislocate it again?”

That’s a bit much, announcer. A bit much.

A bobblehead night?

Doesn’t make the catch- Ortiz stopped at third, double for Crawford. Lovely. Kismet.

Second. Third. ZERO outs. ZERO.

BASES LOADED! BASES LOADED!

One out.

But BASES LOADED!

And…

Crap.

Marco Scutaro.

Crap.

Strike 2.

Crap.

Come on, Marco.

Come on, Marco. Stephen King is watching.

3-2 lead.

Okay. Okay.

I mean, it’s not a grand slam… but… at least we avoided a double play.

2 outs. Carl at third. Marco at first. Jacoby at the plate. Scut steals.

And crap.

Anddddd we start the bottom of the 6th with an out.

And about fifteen yawns from me.

And two outs. Blast.

That was a dramatic fail… and we’re on first.

Of course, it may be moot, because Marco’s up.

Out. That was fast.

Top of the 5h. 8:30 p.m., but it feels like midnight. Wake… can you do this quickly? Thanks.

Thanks. 1 out.

Crap. And one on first.

2 outs. Okay. Okay. Guy on second. Whatever, guy on second. Wake promised this would be fast.

First and second. Okay. And Asdrubal is up to the plate.

Wakeeeee…

3 outs. Thanks be to Fisk. I’m so sleepy, guys. So sleepy…

——

Gonz and Pedroia are trying to wake me up. It’s sweet. Thanks, guys. But it’s not working. Youk is going to load up the bases. He will.

Crap.

Youk.

Crap.

2 outs.

Papi. Papi.

And the fifth crashes. Like I am about to…

—–

Hi, Timmy.

Tim Wakefield. Please?

Oh no. Alfredo Aceves is warming up.

Oh no. Wakey, you can do it. I believe in you…

200. 200. 200. 200. 200.

—-

Tim. 200. Tim.

He is stressing me out. Are you watching this? Is anyone watching this?

Tito looks stressed out. And Salty, I hope that’s stress, because you are causing some plate scariness with your not catching.

Okay, One on first. One on second. two outs.

Oh. AND IT IS TIED AT THREE-THREE now.

Tim is gone. And I have this sinking sleepy feeling that this is only the beginning of our journey to 200.

Top of the 7th. I am too tired to yell at you, Randy Williams.

It looked fair to me too, Jacoby. It is 9:20.

—–

3-3. top. 8.

Bottom.

Nothing changes.

This game will clearly last forever.

Youkie. Fix it.

Ball four. Leadoff WALK.

Okay.

Tony Sipp. Whatever.

Mike Avilles pinching. This is the first time I’ll really see you in action, Mike. Can I call you Mike? Papi. Oh, Papi. Swing and a miss. ‘Course.

Zero outs, Aviles on first.

Aviles steals second. This Aviles, he’s alright.

Pop out. Papi.

Carl. Can I call you Carl?

Seriously. Ties cause me to lose sleep. Fix this, Carl. Be a buddy.

Out on strikes.

Okay. Um. Aviles is still in scoring position. One out left. So. Um. Salty?

Oh no. Justin Masterson tomorrow. Oh no. I am so conflicted. I loved him so.

Right. Back to the actual game.

13-1 Yankees? Really, White Sox? REALLY?

Bah.

Salty. Yes. Salty.

Strike three.

Damn.

—–

This game is stressful. I know what will make us ALL feel better:

You’re welcome.

—-

The 9th. An out.

Papelbon.

Second out.

Crowd on its feet. Wish we were there.

Strike out.

—-

Score. PLEASE.

Hi, Darnell McDonald.

FAIL, Darnell McDonald. Go. Sit. Down.

Oh, Marco.

Marco Scutaro.

DAMNIT, SCUT.

Crap.

One out left.

ONE OUT.

ONE OUT or extra innings. And I can’t stay awake, people.

Jacoby, if you CARE about me at all…

OHMYGOD. You… you love me… you… you really love me…

HOME RUN.

OHMYGOD.

I love you too, Jacoby. I love you too.

4-3.

~L

“Just want to try to drive the ball.”

You did, Jacoby. You did.

I love Paps’ victory face. I love it.

“We’re going to compete until the last out,” Jacoby said.

LIVE bloggin’ some Lackey.

July 27, 2011 9 comments

6:30 p.m.: T-minus one hour and counting… And I am definitely stopping by the liquor store on MY way home. Because tonight… horror of all horrors (crap. The PLEDGE) wonder of all wonders, we have the one, the only, the ugly

JOHN LACKEY!!!

Eeek! I mean:

JOHN LACKEY!!!!!!!!

My bad.

Tonight’s drink of choice is…

The John Lackey! A double shot of whatever cheap liquor is on sale.

See you in an hour. And please join me. I have pledged not to say anything bad about John Lackey. John Lackey is pitching. <– See the moral support I require?

—-

Food. Check.

Which Wich: I’m happy you opened a store in Boone. Really, I am. And my hummus sandwich with the crispy onions makes me quite happy. But your clientele? Questionable. Just saying.

——-

A trip to the ABC, and I’ll be good to go…

—–

“Lackey (8-8, 6.28 ERA) started the month of July with a putrid performance, allowing seven runs in 2 1/3 innings against the Blue Jays, but he’s steadily improved over his last three starts. Since July 9, he’s 3-0 with a 1.95 ERA, including an impressive seven-inning, one-run start against the Mariners in his last outing. Granted, the Mariners rank 30th in the majors in runs, batting average and on-base percentage, but the win brought Lackey’s record back to .500, a confidence boost for any pitcher.

And. Okay. I did see THIS, when Lackey made a big deal about being willing to go in Monday night. That was cool. I GUESS.

In one way, the image of Lackey, who is on tap to take the mound Wednesday night, stretching in the dugout and then making his way out to the pen was not something the manager ever wanted to see. In another way, it was.

“That’s probably a side of guys that you guys don’t see, that we appreciate,” Francona added. “Probably why we defend guys, because that’s not at my urging. He’s running down there to help. We appreciate that.”

I can read between the lines. This is the internet telling us everything’s going to be okay.

You’re right, internet. We are going to be JUST fine. John Lackey is going to be JUST swell. Thanks, Internet.

Still need something to get pumped up for tonight’s game? Jeb fans like FDA should check out THIS LINK.  It’s why Jeb and Pirate nation didn’t get any sleep last night.

A still of that clip is Jeb’s facebook profile picture.

6:50. Ready to play.

————

7:19. Okay. Um. I have been very quiet. Very quiet for about five minutes now. So quiet. Just watching. You know. Sitting here. On my couch. Watching you, John Lackey. The game is FIVE minutes in. And it is THREE TO ZERO Royals. Top of the FIRST. One out.

I just want YOU to know that I know, Lackey. I KNOW.

—-

Base hit. Look at that. Third hit in the inning. Look at that. Are you looking at that, LACKEY? Just checking. Jussssst checking.

—-

Oh, look. Line to right. Heading down the corner. Double for Brayan Pena. Look at that. Hi, LACKEY. Keeping my cool. Just like we pledged. See? Just. Like. We. Pledged. I’m sure this is ALLLLLLL part of your plan. Whip them into a false sense of security, right? Right?

29 pitches. 2 outs. and… oh, what’s that? TWO on base? Losing by what, THREE? Just checking.

—–

I don’t know, America. Does THREE runs in an inning violate our pledge?

Time for another John Lackey. JL, you are so much more tolerable in shot form. 7:26.

—-

Bruce Chen. Jacoby Ellsbury.

And… just as I’m about to say something snarky about John Lackey, Jacoby HITS ONE OUT OF THE PARK! Number 17 for Jacoby! 3-1! 3-1! And, thanks to Jacoby, the pledge is intact another minute.

Dustin Pedroia has to jump out of the way to avoid a crazy pitch from this Chen guy. Pedroia is riding a 23-game hitting streak. Kind of a big deal. Kind of something we need. When it’s the FIRST inning and you’re down by THREE. I didn’t say anything. Not a thing. But I am looking your way, Lackey.

—-

HOMERUNNNNNNNN! And Pedroia extends his hitting streak. Oh, yes he does! 14th homer of the season. 3-2. John Lackey must be wetting himself. He needs to buy them beers or something. Because about ten minutes ago I was full of hate. And now I’m full of sunshine. Sunnysunnysunnysunshine.

—-

Gonz is struck out. To a lot of booing, I might add.

Kevin Youkilis. Aka Youki-poo. Aka loveofmylife. Doing his bat dance. I am so glad to see you, Youkie. Alive. And uninjured. And alive.

Fire in their eyes tonight, see?

Ball four. First base for the Youkie-poo. With Ortiz snaking up to the plate.

Chen looks petrified. His eyes keep darting around, and he’s not just checking bases. He has these weird freckle things, see? 2-2, Papi’s giving the death glare. Full count. Death glare. Checking first. Death glare. Papi’s on fire with the glares. Let’s hope he can back it up with a punch. Not literally, David Ortiz. This isn’t an Oriole. He’s just a Royal.

A home run should suffice.

Strikes out? I’d like to see a replay of that, please. 2 outs. “He did not check a swing on that one but he was called out,” Jerry Remy says.

I’m watching you, Ump.

Saltysaltsalt up for some smacking. 5-game hitting streak. I’d be more impressed if HITTING WAS NOT YOUR JOB. Like, If it was me? Like, Lauren has a 5-game hitting streak- see, that’s impressive. Because I don’t have to hit anything. Ever. Ever at all. Except Pixie sticks (the candy. not the drug euphemism). It would be like saying Lauren is on a five-story streak. See, I am paid to write stories for the paper. Just like you are paid to hit balls for the Red Sox. I just … I just… not impressed with your five streak. I’m sorry.

That was rambly. Omen of rambles to come, no doubt. Hi, Salty. You adjust your gloves a lot. Yeah. It’s the gloves fault. Sure. Jacoby’s uniform is awfully clean in the dugout. Meanwhile, back in salty land, full count. Third consecutive three ball count for Bruce Chen, if you’re paying attention. I’m not. But Jerry Remy is. Strike out.

Wow. Two runs. We’d be 2-0. You know. If SOMEONE hadn’t allowed those three runs.

—-

Lackey.

“John Lackey had kind of a guard on his elbow and the umpire asked him to take it off,” announcer said.

Maybe it was the sleeve that allowed the three runs. Not the Lackey. Thanks for watching out for us, Ump.

Grounder, thrown out. First out.

Ew. Lackey just spit. Ew. America saw that, Johnny.

Fair ball. Look at that. Second base. Look at that. Second double of the night for this guy. Hmmm. Second. What was that, Lackey? Second?

Staying calm. Staying cool. Just the second. Just Johnny being…

Running Gordon back and forth… got him out. Other guy safe at second. Okay. So we’ve got a guy on second. How did that happen? Oh, that’s right. He got a hit, Lackey. That’s what happened.

Butler at the bat. Lackey’s on pitch 39.

This is not a criticism/mockery/judgment… but what is John Lackey doing with his beard? Really?

In the dirt. Okay. I’m sure you were just keeping Salty on his toes. He’s on his toes, see? So you can just pitch now. Thanks. Oh. Another base hit. Oh. So, someone at first and third. 6 hits into the game for the Royals. Oh. Look at that.

Lackey. I think you need to reread the terms of our Pledge RIGHT NOW.

Ellsbury makes the catch. Lackey, you owe him balloon animals or something. I didn’t call you a clown just now. I called you a finely tuned rubber artist. Who is. Um. Full of hot air.

—-

Bottom of the second. Scutaro leading off. Oh good.

Scut, I thought I told you I needed space. After Monday, I need time to rebuild the trust. You’re smothering me, already. How are we supposed to make this relationship work if you won’t listen to me?

Trust in what we have, Scut. Just trust in what we have and give me time.

Full count. Fulllllll count. A walk. Okay. A walk. Thanks, Scut. I appreciate the gesture.

—–

Darnell McDonald. Another ball. Pitching coach and Pena to the mound to dry Chen’s ‘ittle tears. poor tike. Okay, Chen. You do not blow a bubble with your gum when your boss is talking to you.

—-

Nice. Now we’ve got McD on first and Scut on Second. Nice.

LOVE it.  Navarro. A pop that looked like they could get to it. But it drops about two feet away. Lovely. And We load the bases with no outs. Lackey, you better be cuddling that lucky blanket.

3 balls for Jacoby. With the bases loaded, I’d like to add. BALL FOUR. Walkin’ in the game tying run. You can open your eyes now, Lackey. It’s okay.

Bases STILL loaded. 3-3.

And Dustin Pedroia pops it out. But McD scores for a 4-3 lead.

Okay guys. I don’t want to say what leads me to this conclusion: But that’s not enough! Up your game, guys! Up your game. We’ve got runners on first and third and Gonz at the plate. And Jacoby steals second. That’s steal 29 for those playing at home.

Out, but with room to score in a run. Thanks, Gonz. 5-3.

Still not enough guys! Pump them out.

Youkie at the plate. Caught pop. But that’s okay. Because it’s 5-3. I kind of wish Lackey hadn’t seen that. I kind of wish he thought we were still 3-0. Because now he’s all, “I’ve got a cushion.”

But chairs come with cushions.

That was deep. Think about it. You’ll see. That was so deep.

——

Catch. Catch. Two outs. Top of the third. Nice.

Beltran may be headed to the Giants? Whatever. We didn’t really want you. Your name doesn’t rhyme with anything.

And three. Three outs. Okay, Lackey. Okay.

—–

Ortiz. Strike One. Ortiz. Ball one. Chen, it’s going to be okay. It’s just one game.

Pop catch. David Ortiz looks frustrated. Give that one to Chen, Papi. We don’t want tears on the mound.

Salty pops up. And Another out. One, two three. Just like Lackey. Blah.

—-

Top of the fourth. 1, 2, 3. Yes. Out, out, out. Okay, Lackey. Okay.

—-

McDonald on 2nd. In a neat failed dive catch by the Royals. Neat.

3-6.

Us! Us! Us! And I’m distracted by people. I’m so popular, you know. So popular.

Okay. a REALLY weird out call on a Jacoby steal. We’re at 2 outs. And Youkie-poo is at the plate. Being all Youkilicious with the bat dance. Ground, leftside! Through the glove! Base hit! Bases are loaded.

Loooooaaaaaded.

And three people is an island you don’t want to strand. Right, Papi? Pooooooooor Chen. Bottom of the 4th and they are already warming someone up. Outside pitch. Three more of those is a walk on run, Chen, dear.

No pressure.

Ball THREE. One strike. Ball THREE. Anddddddddddd… In the air, right field… and….. GRANDFRICKINGSLAM.

Replay! Replay!

Oh, pretty. And Lackey grins. You better grin. You better buy David Ortiz an egg roll or something. Because he has saved you.

1,000th CAREER RBI for Papi! A grand slam. I think I just teared up. Remember two years ago when they (you know, they) were allll Papi’s finished? Remember that? And I said to you, Papi… I said, if you can break your crap streak, if you can break it, I will name my puppy after you. I was at Midtown Tavern in Charlotte. With Eric. And when I got home, Elliot’s name was Elliot May Precious Ortiz. Oh… Oh… oh…

I love him so. 10-3 SOX, baby. Salty’s out. But no one noticed. They are too busy grinning at our Papi.

—-

I’m walking Ortiz’ name puppy while I’m on a high. Don’t let Lackey ruin it while I’m gone.

Okay. I was gone six minutes. SIX minutes. And is 10 to 4. And one person is on second. I knew this would happen. Lackey makes a 7 point lead look iffy.

And he walks someone on first. Awesome.

90th pitch for Lackey. Is a ball. Of course it is. Curt Young, you watching this? Lackey, if you blow this lead, I swear to Fisk I will…

I haven’t broken the pledge yet. No. I haven’t. Damnit.

To left field. And a base hit.

AND the bases are loaded. ARE YOU WATCHING THIS, CURT YOUNG?

Okay, Lackey. Okay. You are trying my patience and my keyboard. You let ONE of those batters hit home and we are done. Do you hear me? DONE. The pledge will be null and void and I will mock you like you have never been mocked before. MOCKERY. Randy Williams is warming up. Of course. The one that cost us the fifty bazillion inning game the other day. Yes, that seems smart.

Chris Getz at the plate. If he gets a grand slam, our 10-3, I’m sorry, 10-FOUR lead will be 10-8. 10-8! Do. NOT. Let. That. Happen.

And it’s the fricking ROYALS, Lackey. Seriously. The ROYALS. They are from Kansas. KANSAS. And I know a lot about Kansas. I’ve watched Wizard of Oz. So I know there’s wheat there. And no color. Oh, and people that hate dogs. Does that sound like a team YOU want to lose to, Lackey?

And Salty makes the catch… saving your ASS, Lackey. We’re cool. Really we are. But I do NOT want to see you in the 5th inning. Hear that, Curt?

Jeb, dear. Which Wich is a smarmy new sandwich place where that healthy grocery store used to be near Boone Mall? Winkler’s Creek, maybe. But apparently Cano and Jeter eat there. That’s what the wall says.

Marco Scutaro. We’re on better terms now that I have another focus for my negative energy (LACKEY). Well, we were on better terms before you just got that out.

Darnell McDonald.

Okay. You know what? I thought I could do it. I did. I thought I could be mature about this and look at the score numbers and…

No.

I’m okay.

Oh, look. Heidi Watney. Talking to Jed Lowrie.

“I continue to push it every day. If I didn’t get that feeling I would think I didn’t get enough work in that day.”

Oh, Jed. You DL addict.

—-

That’s it. I can’t hold this inside of me anymore. I feel like the Hulk. I feel like James Dean in Rebel without a Cause.

YOU’RE TEARING ME APART.

It’s YOU. YOU, John Lackey. I take it back. I rip the pledge up. I am ripping… the pledge up… and now I have a paper cut. I have a PAPER CUT. THIS IS YOUR FAULT. YOUR Fault. YOUR FAULT you Napolen Dynamite-esque jaw of inappropriate proportions. You sullen-faced attitude crapping, base loading excuse for mediocrity. I can NOT believe I ever-

Out number one?

What? You’re. Um. Not sucking?

Wait a mite… maybe…. could it be… could my public ridicule be… no…

Pop out. Two outs.

Could it be helping you? Every time I call you a name, like a wormy-slackfaced excuse for a Bond villain… you do… well?

Base hit. Well, blows that theory.

You’re just slime.

—-

I would like to give Lackey to the Pirates. Here. Take him. He will be your booty. FDA, I’m going to need some help. His ego’s so huge.. I just… can’t… lift… him…

—-

Jup! It’s so good to see you, Jup. Did you see that? Did you see what that sloth almost did to our 7 point lead? Did you?

—–

Seriously. That fifth inning… by the grace of god and…

BASE HIT? Frick on a frick stick. One on first and third. I’m typing that out in case you can’t see that from your vantage point, Curt Young.

YESSSSSS Tito going to the mound. YESSSSSSS. Send that sloth to Pittsburgh! The dugout will do for now.

——

OhnoRandyWilliams. Ohno. Monday. No. We must not think of Monday. It’s a new day. A new day. With liquor. And cookies. Crap. I’m out of cookies. Have you ever had Paul Newman-Os? No? They’re Newmanneriffic. Randy Williams, I wish you were Daniel Bard.

Ends the inning. Pedroia does. Yes he does. Why do we call him the muddy chicken? I never figured that one out.

—-

Jacoby Ellsbury. Double off the fricking wall. 10 to fricking 4. To fricking four. With Jacoby on second. Which means Jacoby will soon be on third. Which means… we’ve got this, Soxies.

Of course, that means Lackey’s also “got this.”

I can see it now. Can’t you?

Smug chin. Shrugs it off. Saying, see how bad ass we were tonight? We. WE.

Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn. You still make my neck knot.

And base hit! base hit!

The Offense.The Offense. The Offense’s on fire. And we don’t need no water let the motherf…

Right. Blogging. Baseball. Tequilla. Shot thirty. Excuse me.

—–

David Ortiz! Stop spitting! America is watching.

Gonz! Base hit! Score! Score! Jacoby! Run, Jacoby! Score. You do! You do! 11-4. 11-4!!!!!!!!! Zero outs. First and second. Zero outs! And… from the mist… baseball dirt, rising like fog from a mountain… steps the mighty… the fearless… the furious… the sexy… KEVIN YOUKILIS! And the crowd moans Yoooooouuuuukkkkk and it sounds like booing. But it’s not booing. It’s Yoooouuuuukkkkkiiinnnngggg. And he shrugs it off, like a noble warrior. Like a noble viking warrior. Like um…  viking. Some of them were noble. They had Cool helmets sometimes.

Oh. Fail. Double play. Fail. Oh.

And. Like a noble warrior. He collapses. Gracefully. In the depths of the….

Damn it, Youk. Damn.

First base. You are on first base. And that is enough for me. You are enough for me. Hold me close and don’t let me go. Shot thirty again. Hi, Papi.

Inning ends. But that’s okay. Because we got to see another replay of your grand slam.

—-

Okay. Observations. This is the Royals. This is not the Yankees. This is not Cleveland. This is Kansas Fricking City. This is Chen. Easy trumped by power bats. What if this was the Yankees? What if this was some badass like Cliff Lee? And Lackey pulled this shit? What if, instead of catching that ball when Lackey loaded up the bases, Salty dropped it? An ordinary error? What if-what if-what if? And, see, soon, we won’t be playing piddly teams like the Brewers and the Royals and the god awful Orioles. Soon, we’ll be playing actual teams. We’ll be playing October teams. And I don’t want to see what Lackey will do.

—–

How many others must the paper cut?!

It’s like politics. And the economy. And the stock market. It’s all like that.

That’s called a stretched metaphor, for those of you playing at home.

—–

Dan Wheeler. Warming up. Good. See, I’d rather see you than Mr. Let’s-allow-the-doubles. That’s your name, Williams.

Top of the 7th. Monday on my mind. Wincing as he hurls the rocks. Strike one. But it’s three and one, see. Three and fricking one. Is it just me, or did they get louder?

Ball four. Moustakas. REALLY. Of course. Seeing this, Curt, baby? Watching this?

I get it. Put the annoyingly frustrating players out this game so you can save people like Bard and the Beckster for Soxtober. Nice strategy. Stressful, but nice strategy.

Brayan Pena. NOBODY OUT. Until now. When Pedroia catches you, Pena. But runners on first and second.

—-

McD makes the catch. Second out. Randy Williams, you need to get better. Just saying.

—-

Alcides Escobar. I want to date someone with your name so I can say it quickly. But I do not want to date you. Because your team is annoying me. But you do have a lot of money. So there’s that. Okay. I’d go out with you if you asked nicely, bought me things and didn’t tell Youkilis.

In the air to left field… McD catches … and you are out. Call me!

—–

Okay. I feel so much better. After another John Lackey, the drink…

Salty. Hi.

I miss Reddick. Who, according to THIS article, saved us much cash today.

BASE HIT, SALTY! Loverly. Just like the song form My Fair Lady.

All I want is a win today.

It’s not enough, just to play.

With your enormous name…

Oh thank you… Saltalamacchia…

It’s to the tune of “Loverly,” if you’re playing at home. I’m very talented.

Popped up. Whatev.

Oh, Heidi Watney.

“there was a controversial end to the Braves-Pirates game… he was clearly out….”

Oh, that’s you, Jeb!

Apparently, it’s sparking talk of instant replay… And she asks Ortiz.

“You know already post season because of tv and everything they’re already too long… so just make the effort and try to stay on top of the game… You don’t say that many plays like the play last night between the Braves and Pirates… he’s a human being,” Ortiz said of the ump.

See, Jeb? He’s a HUMAN BEING. Treat him with dignity! And hugs! After all, it’s only baseball Jeb. It’s just a game… and I’m sure he’s very sorry.

:)

Terry Francona has an idea to have a fifth umpire in a booth up top.

“And you rotate them like you rotate guys in the field,” announcer said.

Navarro strikes out. But that’s okay. Because it’s still 11-4.

—-

Top of the 8th. And Randy Williams back on the mound. I see Curt’s point. Curt’s like, ‘why not?’ Let the pup have his day.

In the air… Ellsbury can’t make the catch. A long double. Third double of the night. They’ll call him the Doubler, they will. And our eyes will roll. Poor little kid at the wall. He really thought he had that. The kid, not Jacoby. I think Jacoby figured it out.

FDA is going to be at the game tomorrow. She promised to stalk Kevin Youkilis for me. I mean us. I hope that means acting as my go-between for the great love affair we will soon start.

Tito comes out. And Wheeler has a turn. Sit down, Williams.

———

Royal Reunion is a movie that MLB.TV has decided to preview. Hah. They also had a Royal Caribbean commercial. Noticing a pattern?

One out. 8th inning. Dan Wheeler.

I hope to see a lot of players I’ve never heard of at the bottom of the 8th. That always makes me feel better.

So, Soxies. How are you? You good? Thought I should check in. 11-4ness gives me some time to check in on YOUR needs.

Wheeler strikes out. B2B strike outs. It’s like he read the wikipedia article on how to pitch or something. Could you print that out and post it in the bullpen?

—-

Two outs. Two outs. Two outs. I can chant here too, guys.

Damnit. The throw gets away. Run is in. 11-5.

Damnit.

This is your fault too, Lackey.

—-

You know what? You don’t like it, e-mail me, ohnolauren@gmail.com.

—-

Felipe Paulino warming in the pen for KC. Jeff Francoeur. Whose name I love. But whose bat gives me hives…

Sexy catch. OUTTTTTT.

—-

Bottom of the 8.

Okay. You know what? We’re winning. Right? Right.

I should stop bashing Lackey. I should save it for the losses, right?

The losses we will inevitably have if we don’t figure out the Lackey situation…

Am I too harsh? I’m too harsh.

Okay. I’ll see what I can do about that pledge. but I really ripped it up. Maybe some scotch tape? And another shot. That will fixxxxx everrrrrryyyythinggg….

Yesss! Error throw gets Jacoby (our MVP candidate, I say) on first.

11th straight Sox game, btw, with at least 10 hits. Neato.

Hi, Pedroia. On the ground right side, throws out Pedroia. One out. Ellsbury takes third. A-Gonz who, shockingly, seems to be hitting the LEAST right now, takes the plate.

He’s 2 for 4 tonight with singles. Crazy close foul right now. If only this were horseshoes.

I like having Jacoby on third. Reminds of that Pettitte game. Ahhhhh memories. That’s a song from Cats. Memories….

In the air to left… back… OFF THE TOP OF THE WALL! Ellsbury scores. Gonz is out at second? Really? 12-5.

“This had to miss being a homerun by inches,” Remy said.

If only this were horseshoes, I say again. The game, not the crabs.

12-5… 10″08 p.m. Line drive down the right field line… foul.

Swing and a miss for Reddick. Strikes out.

Headin’ to the 9th. Feelin’ groovy.

—-

Just read your comment. Don’t you worry about it Jeb. Lackey’s free. We don’t need anything from you. He’s going to be part of a surprise fruit basket, tucked between the cantaloupes. And we’re going to be out of there so quickly you won’t even be able to find the WSJ article. Your mouth will be full of grapes and then you’ll see Lackey, and you’ll be like, “oh shit,” but you won’t be able to say anything, it will come out like, “ohmfffft” because your mouth will be full of grapes. They’ll be really good grapes, though.

——-

Two outs. Back to back in the 9th. This game’s MVP is going to be a toss up between Jacoby and David Ortiz. Oh, and Lackey. Wait. That was a joke.

—-

I love this part. Where people stand and rally the win.

Well, not this part, where the ball goes into the dirt.

Come on, Wheeler. Can you hear my stomping from Boston? I bet my new neighbors can hear my stomping.

Base hit. Yeah. That’s not what the stomping was for. Let’s try that again. Strike one. Outside. One and one.

The last batter always takes the longest.

Come on, Wheeler! Come on!!!!!!!!!

On the ground. Thrown out to first! What? Safe? What? Fricktastic. Frick-frick-frick-frick-fricking-frick. Crap. Okay. That looked fair to me. Fair. Whatever. First and second runners.

This is wayyyyy too complicated for a 7 run lead.

Just go quietly.

It’s like the last scene in a movie where the villain (that’s us) tells the victim (always a girl) that it’s over. No one can hear your scream, little girl. So why fight it? I’ll make your death quick.

Of course, we’re not villains. So we’re not actually going to kill you by tying you to some train tracks. We shall show mercy and beat you at baseball.

Swing and a miss…. two and two. Gordon. The baseball player. Not the fisherman. Fenway rises to its feet. Love. It. North Carolina’s Fenway (in my townhouse) is doing the same thing. Except for the puppy. She isn’t sure what to do. She looks very confused.

Popped up. Foul ground… Navarro …. overruns the fricking ball.

For frick’s sake, people.

10:19.

—–

STRIKE OUT. 10:20.

And the Red Sox win.

That was way too complicated.

John Lackey, You did NOT do this.

Did you see how close Heidi Watney just got to David Ortiz? Why can’t I have her job? Can you make that happen? I used to be on television, after all. And being a news anchor is just like being Heidi Watney. Except I would get to stand more often. I would totally come out of television retirement for her job. I am going to sleep.

Thoughts? Have we been too hasty writing off Lackey? Do you think he did a good job? Do you think he will do a good job? Do you feel sorry for the Pirates, or are you just bemused? Oh, and are Newman-Os better than Oreos? These questions and more can be answered in the comments section. I look forward to reading what you have to say.

~L

14 innings of crap with crap call icing.

July 26, 2011 10 comments

My feelings this A-M can best be expressed by THIS CARTOON by The Soxaholix.

REALLY?!

I have had some time to reflect. Yes I have. So let me amend that.

REEEEEEALLLLLLYYYYY???!!!

“I just didn’t see the sign,” Scutaro said. “My fault. I was kind of watching the signs but didn’t see the squeeze. I was watching Bogie (third base coach Tim Bogar). I was focused on getting a pitch to hit.”

“It’s my fault; I just missed the sign,” Scutaro said afterward. “Tito’s trying to get something going. It’s late. We haven’t scored. We’ve been kind of struggling tonight bringing guys in from third base … It just feels bad, man. It feels like all your teammates, the manager, fans just want to kill you.”

REALLY????!!!!!!

It’s just one game. Just one game. We’re still at the top. Because, it being one game, it’s not exactly the point of a knife.

It’s just one game. To. One. Of. The. WORST TEAMS.

REALLY????

After 12 innings. TWELVE. No. I’m sorry. FOURTEEN

“We just missed the sign,” said Red Sox manager Terry Francona, whose team was 1-for-11 with runners in scoring position. “I thought it was a good opportunity. We got half of it right. We didn’t’ get the whole thing right. Red got it and Scoot didn’t. We had some other opportunities too. We kind of let them off the hook it felt like. I know there’s not much sleep anyway, but that will be a tough one tonight.”

We? WE missed the sign? No WE didn’t. YOU DID, Marco. YOU DID.

FAILS: Marco Scutaro

FAILS: Garry Cederstrom. And BAD CALLS.

FAILS: The fact that it took TWELVE INNINGS TO LOSE.

MVP: Crawford. Who kept his cool in the midst of some of the dumbest calls ever made.

Runner up: Reddick. YOU WERE PAYING ATTENTION!

MVP: Scutaro. Oh wait. I think I meant. Mauled Victory Perpetrator. Because you mauled my victory, Scut.

REALLY?

I can’t talk about this.

~L

“It stinks,” he said. “We waited around for two and a half hours to play a five-hour baseball game. It sucks. You want to come out on top of these ones.

~Jon Lester.

“The exam was really good,” Francona said about Youkie-poo. “He hit the bag, and I think his heel sort of gave way a little bit.

“I think we’ll stay away from him tomorrow, but hopefully, it won’t be anything more than that. Who knows.”

Jon. I am glad you are not broken. But if Youkie is broken… oh, Scut, you will get a letter from me.

An until-I-go-to-sleep Live Blogging experiment. Is it really Monday?

July 25, 2011 3 comments

Just got off work. Turn on browser just in time to see Scutaro kamakazi catch that. Sweetness. Like the ice cream I am going to indulge in. A treat after a long day. Is it really almost 10 p.m.? 9:58? I need a weekend already. Is it really only Monday?

So. The big news of the day. Of the week. Of the month. Of our LIFETIME. He’s BACK.

That’s right. The Lesternator. And this time, he’s going for blood. Now in High Definition. Prepare to be:

LESTERNATED.

Okay. So. Jon Lester. 0-0. Top of the second. Wait. Why do they have two on base? Why do they have two on base, Jon? 2 outs.

Okay. I get it. You were waiting for me. You didn’t want to start being a badass until I got here. Okay. Well, I’m here now, Jonny. You can stop scaring the good people of Boston. Thanks.

And an out.

Now that my new internet is working, I certainly am blogging a lot. You know what? Today brought my 900th comment. That was kind of neat. For comment 1,000 I should do something. I will. Um. Draw you a picture.

A walk to first by Ortiz and more annoying prattle by Jerry Remy. I am not going to be able to handle this whole game, am I?

—-

I really like Crawford. I really do. I like base stealers. He’s fun to watch. He breaks up the monotony of long games. And Reddick… a double as Crawford scores! 1-0. Nice.

Yes, Crawford. We will be friends. I will make you a friendship bracelet.

—-

May 19, 2008. Lester’s no hitter against the Royals. I remember that. That was the day I bought my car, Sweet Caroline. We watched the game at a Ham’s Restaurant near the car dealership. The food was terrible and the potatoes were cold. But Jonny, you were red hot.

—-

Now they’re talking about whether you can wear Royals gear at Fenway and not get mauled. I read a blog the other day saying that Sox fans throw nachos at people wearing other jerseys. Anyone ever experience this?

I bet if someone threw nachos at you, you did something to deserve it. Unless you were wearing a Joba jersey. That in itself is deserving of a major cheesing. You don’t have to do anything.

And now they are showing clips of Jonathan Papelbon throwing tomatoes.

Really, guys?

I don’t know. What are you thinking about Lester? I know they’re scoreless (so far) and he’s striking three of them out- but he just doesn’t seem to have his usual Lester snap. Am I just being paranoid? Evidently, because, as a speak, a cutter strikes out another Royal. And another strike out. Well, I feel better.

—-

Bottom of the third. 0-1. Jeb, the Pirate Princess, sent me a fantastic link that you should check out right now:

The Boston Red Sox have shaken off a woeful start to the season to take pole position in the American League and a near lock on a playoff spot. Unlike other recent great Red Sox teams, this year’s Boston club is doing it almost entirely with hitting.

~The Wall Street Journal

I think the current rate paid per win is approximately $4 million, so to have four different position players giving you over $16 million each of production at this point is pretty damn good.

~Jeb

For those of you who do not know Jeb, he is a kindred spirit. Just misled. He, like me, is stranded in North Carolina. Unlike me, he is Pirates fan. But in Boone, NC, you take what you can get.

And Pedroia extends his hit-streak to 22!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can someone explain this Muddy Chicken thing to me?

—-

Another message from Jeb:

“You’ll love/hate this. John Lackey’s total WAR is currently -1.1. I think replacement-level is an average AAA player. So if you had started the season with an average AAA pitcher in Lackey’s place, you’d be 63-36 instead of 62-37. Poor John Lackey :(“

I will not love this. Not. Not. Not. Blah.

John Lackey.

We can’t think of John Lackey today, Jeb. Jon Lester is back. And he must consume all of our brain cells. All of them, I say!

I do not like how we’re loading the bases up. First. Second. I do not like this one bit. One out. Okay. I’d like to see a Sox offensive pop here in a sec. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.

Salty makes a catch. Salty is looking kind of hot today. Does his hair always look like that?

Two outs.

Jonny, you’re freaking me out with the first and second. Let’s not do this again, okay? Brayan Pena. And Youk throws it to first and ends the inning. Okay. It’s 5 hits to our 2. Let’s put some snap in our step.

—-

Bottom of the fourth inning, Youkie at the plate. Do you think he gets his beard professionally trimmed each day? Because his cheeks have been looking smooth lately.

First out. Oh, the pivot turn. He looks dejected. It’s okay, baby. I’m still here. I’ll always be here.

David Ortiz. Over the shift and into right field for a base hit. 4-game hitting streak.

Carl Crawford. My new best friend. He looks like he’d be a great best friend. Oh, the happy times we could have together. Like at the zoo. And the park and stuff. I could swing. And you could push the swing. Because, if you can wield a bat like that, you can totally push a swing. We could tell secrets and swap stories and roast marshmallows and have great adventures.

I am going to make a children’s book about us.

I am going to call it “Carl Crawford and me.”

Ohhhhhhh. David Ortiz out on a steal. Papi!

—-

Alcides Escobar. What a great name. I want to date someone with your name. But not you. Because you are a Royal. And just took a walk. No me for you.

Poooooooor Mariners. Swamped by the Stanks. I was really rooting for them. And not just because it’s the Yankees. Because I know how it feels when you just can’t get a break.

This is for you.

1-0, Boston. One on first. One out. Bottom of the 5th. Picked off… Gonz fires to second! Out! Out! Out! A fun moment in the midst of kind of a boring game…Or maybe I’m just tired from my fourteen hour work day…

And… strike out to end the inning.

—-

Salty’s on base. Salty has been on FIRE. Remember when those crazy bloggers (um, um…) kept saying he should go? Remember that? I am simply shocked and… um… appalled…

Okay. So I’m eating my words.

At least I know what to flavor them with.

Scutttttt. I always liked you better than Lowrie.

Full count. You can walk there. I don’t care how you get there. Just get there if you can. That’s a song.

See?

NICE. That’s exactly how I wanted to get you there. Single. Nice.

Salty takes third. Jacoby is out. But Salty took third.

First and third with two outs. Let’s see some offense dazzle. Or fine. Just strand yourselves and end the inning. Sure. Okay. WHATEVER, RED SOX.

—-

I am concerned about post-DL Lester going 77 pitches. I am concerned. Full count.

Curt Young. Are you watching this?

80 pitches.

Through the left side. Base hit. Single.

Jon Lester. You know I love you. But 81 pitches might be enough. We need you, see. In October.

Billy Butler. 82 pitches. Billy Butler looks like a guy from our pressroom. Into the corner. And you let them score. It’s not your fault, Jon Lester. I blame YOU Curt Young. Look at you. Not making eye contact. Looking into your clipboard. I called this like a hundred words ago.

Tie game. CURT YOUNG.

—-

“I wouldn’t be surprised to see this is the last hitter for Lester,” Remy says.

I would. Curt Young NEVER listens to me.

—-

88 pitches. BALL FOUR. DID YOU SEE THAT?

Tito is heading to the mound.

Poor Lester. He looks frustrated. It’s not your fault, Lester. I love you anyway.

Curt, I will deal with you later.

—-

Do you know what I like about Lester? He’s in the dugout with death eyes right now. Mad. You can see the anger. See, John Lackey how he gives a shit? Remember all those times when you sucked it up- a LOT worse than Lester, I might add- and do that shrug walk-off thing that irritates me to no end?

—-

Albers strikes ‘em out. Nice.

Lester, I wish I could give you a hug. It’s going to be okay. I promise.

Ground ball up the middle. Pedroia tags. Out.

Bottom of the 6th. And I am fading fast…

Another night asleep at the keyboard. At least this time it’s baseball and not city council… ah… the life of a reporter.

Hi, Gonz. Could you slam one out of the park? I bet that would make Lester smile. Or just strike out. Sure. Okay. <- Sarcasm.

Hi, Youkie.

He got something in his eye. Poor dear. Okay. Now we’re ready to rumble, he says.

Yikes. That one was straight for him. He’s getting good at ducking those.

Ground. Up the middle. Out. Close. I’d like to see a replay, please. Youk made it back to that dugout in about two seconds. Yikes. Did you see that lunge? It looked painful. Youkie, stop hurting yourself! And Ortiz thrown out.

Well. That sucked.

1-1 game in the 7th. And I’m droopy. I may not make into the 8th. God forbid this go extra innings.

Seats are emptying out. That’s what happens when it’s this late on a Monday.

Pena out. Thanks to a snazzy throw by Pedroia.

This game is hurting my brain.

Full count. Close up of Tito sweat. Thanks, cameras.

Crawford makes the catch. Because he’s my best friend.

And there are two outs.

STRIKE THREE. Out. Despite a dramatic jump-away by a faker. Good job, Albers.

See, Lester? I told you there was nothing to worry about. It’s alllll going to be okay.

Oh. Right. It’s still tied…

—-

Tim Collins. Pitching at my BEST FRIEND. Hi, Carl. What is with Collins’ hair? It’s like a back mullet. It’s a new invention, clearly.

First out. It’s okay, Crawford. Let’s meet up for hopscotch later.

Hi, Josh Reddick. You are not having a good hair day either. Just saying. If I can’t tell you tehse things, Josh, who can?

In the air… Caught. Out.

This inning blows.

I could be watching “The Tudors” or “Wings” on Netflix. Or. Um. Sleeping.

Salty’s up. Bottom of the 7th. Two outs. Keep hope alive, Salty. Keep hope alive.

Speaking of hope, Daniel Bard is warming up in the pen.

Who is umping? Do you know? Because he’s obnoxious.

Grounder to third…. and out.

That inning was worse than Tim Collins’ hair.

Pedroia fires to first for the out. And they replayed Youk’s bag slam. I knew he was hurt! I knew it! If he’s really hurt, I’m driving to Kansas. I will!

Scut dives on his face.

Single.

Jeb’s still awake. He’s watching the Pirates, as indicated by our recent Facebook convo:

WHATEVER, JEB

Ahhhh…. Facebook.

Two outs. Billy Butler sits down.

They called a balk on Bard. A bullshit balk. I don’t understand. The announcer doesn’t seem to understand. No one seems to understand. Except the pricky umpire.

2 outs. 1-1. One on second. Just so you feel my pain. Because this is painful.

Strike two.

Come. On.

Throw to first. OUT.

Bottom of the 8th. Paaaaaiiiiinnnnnnfullllll.

—-

Marco Scutaro. Up against Aaron Crow.

And the crazy Fenway yelling commences.

Pena makes a foul catch. Blah.

Out one.

I love looking at fans’ faces when the ball flies.

Jacoby. 0 for 3 tonight. So this is his moment. Right? Right?

Papelbon is warming up in the pen.

Ellsbury! Base hit! Single! 7 game hitting streak for Jacoby.

Ohmygod there is a bug on my computer screen. Ohmygod.

Eeek. Now it is on my bed. And the lights are out and…

—-

It’s okay. I’m okay.

A double play. Which is horrible, because it pushes us into the 9th. But the real horrible thing is, there is a bug in my room. And it is dark. And I’m sure it’s on me. And I can do nothing.

It’s probably like some rare African bug that will burrow into my shoulder while I’m sleeping. Ohgod.

—-

And… Johnny Paps…

—–

—-

Catch. Out one. Out 2.

—-

I am so upset. “After hobbling around, Youkilis leaving the game.”

I am so upset.

He better be okay.

Strike out.

Bottom of the 9th.

Okay guys. Get serious. I am only half awake. I can’t do a 10th. So score for me, okay? And for Youkilis. Who had better not be broken.

Alright, Gonz. You have done NOTHING today. It is time.

We need to get the spark back. There is NO SPARK.

The K-Guys are holding the A-Gonz sign. That’s for YOU, A-Gonz. YOU.

And Gonzalez strikes out. An 0 for 4 night. Really.

Yamaico Navarro taking one for the Youk. With a base hit! Youkie is welling up with pride and-

OHMYGOD THE BUG. I will get you this time, bug. I see you and… OHMYGOD IT FLIES.

It’s like an ant. But with wings. It’s an ant thing. It’s like the Pegasus of ants!

OHMYGOD. It’s alive.

Speaking of holy terrors, David Ortiz staring down Crow.

And I could watch that if I didn’t suddenly feel ants all over me.

Paranoia. Delusion. It was just one ant thing.

Just one, after all. You’re fine.

It was like a dragon ant.

Ortiz hits it on the ground- it gets through! Navarro on third! Ortiz first! Somehow that ball got through. Looked routine. Went through second baseman. Went through shortstop. Gave us sweet, sweet hope.

Hi, best friend Carl Crawford.

—–

This is so stressful. Please. Please. Please, Crawford. Please.

That strike was crap. The announcer agrees with me. He did not swing.

Out.

On crap.

Reddick.

2 outs. High fly ball… Catch. DAMNIT.

Damnit, damnit, damnit.

Extra innings. Damnit.

That check swing call was crap. I blame the ump.

Morales. And I am asleep. Please don’t let him screw it up… Going to sleep.

Damnit. We all know I’m lying. Come on, Morales. Get this DONE.

Josh Reddick. I love you. There have been some great dive catches tonight, no?

That was hot. No wonder my mother wants me to marry you, Josh.

Out one. And a pop out to Pedroia means out TWO. Okay. Alex Gordon. You are going to be out three. Right, Morales?

Pedroia. First. Out.

Hah.

One to one.

Damn.

Come on, offense. Now is your chance to help me sleep. DO THIS. This is painful.

—-

This is the song in my head right now. I do not know why.

Better than Jar of Hearts, at least… And I think it expresses my feelings about this game quite eloquently. I saw Joan Osborne sing this at MerleFest a few months ago.

OHCOMEONSCORENOW.

—-

Damnit, Salty! I specifically told you to score.

One out.

Fly ball. Caught. Scutaro, you are a jerk. Two outs.

Jacoby. You have grounded out, struck out, flown out and singled and OHMYGODTHEFLYINGANTISBACK.

It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m okay…

OHNOIT’SBACKAGAIN.

What if there’s more than one?!?!

—–

Ground chop to first.

Are we even trying???

11th.

Navarro!!!! Youk would have caught that. Cabrera singled. Damnit. And there’s a dragon ant trying to eat me. But other than that, I’m fiiiiiiiine. Crawford catches. First out. Two more. And please let that be it.

Eric Hosmer. You look familiar.

Throw to first! What?! That was out. That was completely OUT.

“That really was borderline,” Remy said.

That really was out. These calls are crap tonight.

Crap.

I do not know who is umping, but I would not be surprised if it was Angel Hernandez.

Crawford makes another catch. Two outs. Because he is my best friend.

Terry comes out. Dan Wheeler to come out.

Hi, Dan.

Please do not mess up. Thanks.

One on first. Two outs.

And his first pitch… a ball. Of course.

I get that you guys love baseball. That’s great. But please do not love 12 innings worth of baseball. Hear me, Sox offense?

Strike. Nice. Do that.

Do that again. Foul. Okay. Whatever.

YES. Cabrera does something stupid, runs and is tagged the frick out at the base.

Thank you.

Now it is up to you, Offense. Up to you. Do it. Do it NOW.

Adrian. The shouts make me think I’m watching Rocky.

Gonz to left field… OFF THE WALL.

Thank you. Thank you for doing something, Gonz.

A single. One out. And Gonz on first. Okay. Gonz. You have to score. I’m not kidding. You have to. HAVE to.

Okay, Navarro. Don’t be a hero. Just get on a base. ANY BASE.

NO.

Strikes out. Two down.

DAMNIT.

Youk would have had that. I’m just saying. It is one in the morning. SOME of us have to work.

David Ortiz. Okay. Papi. Okay. Let’s do this. And by “let’s,” I mean you, Papi.

Closeup on Jacoby and Beckett in the dugout. Jacoby is drinking a red drink. Suddenly I am thirsty.

—-

Come on, David Ortiz.

Bounce. Kicks. Gonz scampers to second! Yes! Yes! Do that.

Now Gonz is on second.

And they’re going to walk Papi.

There are boos in Fenway, but I am okay with this.

He is on a base. That is all that matters. He is not out.

First. Second.

Crawford up. My best friend.

Come on Crawford. Buddy.

ANOTHER bad strike call.

“Crawford’s about had it… that pitch being called a strike.”

When Remy knows the umpire sucks, the umpire SUCKS.

Stressssssful.

Strike. Two and two. Okay. He looks apprehensive. Don’t be apprehensive, Crawford. Please? Breathe, baby. Breathe. Ball three.

Full fricking count.

Come on.

Please.

Come on.

afdsjkkkkkkkkklnokdnjdfkdfjkldfsjkl

That was my head hitting the keyboard. Let me demonstrate again.

afdljklkjfadjkdfaaereiorf;j

Strike.

Out.

DAMNIT.

12. DAMNIT.

I can’t do this guys. I have to sleep. Have to.

fadslkjljkdfsfljkfdljkdfjklsfdsjkls

Damnit.

I am sad. Randy Williams warming in then pen.

I am so tired. So tired. Soooooooo

Walk. Guy on first. Thanks, Wheeler.

I blame the umpire, actually. The umpire that HATES my new best friend, Carl Crawford.

Sacrifice. And the runner is on second. One out. Damnitdamnitdamnit.

Brayan Pena.

Damnit.

Only one out.

Damnit.

I can’t type unless something monumental happens.

—-

strike out. good. 2 outs. throw to first. out. bottom of 12. please score please.

—-

Okay. Let’s do this. And by do this. I mean score. Hi, Josh Reddick. Just get on a base. If four of you get on a base, that is all it will take.

Do it for your fallen comrade. Speaking of fallen comrades, I would like an update on my husband, please.

The announcers want this to end too.

“Put it right where you want it, Josh,” Remy said.

I would like it over the green monster. Thanks.

Reddick… base hit!!!!

“Thatta baby,” Remy keeps saying.

Single.

Three more and we’ve got a ballgame.

Salty.

one for four. single. Okay. let’s. please.

Youkie is watching. I know he is. He should be asleep. But he’s not.

I should be asleep. But I’m not.

Salty. Scutaro is after you. But let’s not need him. Let’s just use you, Salty. And your bat. In the air. Left field. Catch. FAIL.

Marco. Hi. Can you hit something? A triple would be nice.

YEESSSSSS. Ball gets away and Reddick stops at THIRD!

One out and we are at THIRD. Yes. Yessssss. Yes. Okay. Scut. Do not mess this up. Do not.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Reddick is out. He was trapped. Squeeze play. Damn it. Scutaro missed the sign. Scut missed the sign, Remy said. Damnit, Scut. DAMNIT.

If this goes to 13, so help me…

Homerun or you are NOT going back to the dugout.

Base hit. And Scutaro is OUT AT SECOND BASE.

Scutaro. Scutaro. Scutaro. SCUTARO

facebook is evil. This game is evil. And Jeb, you are evil.
And Scutaro… I’ll deal with you tomorrow. I can’t even look at you.
TWO ON BASE????
Damnit. I have flying ants to deal with. I can’t do this on a Monday. Um. Tuesday. Um.
No sense. No sense do I make. Ground. Out.
Bottom of 13th. I cannnnnnnnnn’t do this. This is the longest rambliestnosensishmaking post in all the land and it is your fault, marco scutaro yourfault that i do not make sense because i am so tireddd…
and you, jeb. you. you facebook distracter. with your facebook and your distracting.
and you, bed. for not being comfortable enough.
and you, crazy flying demon gremlin ants. for making me afraid to sleep.
and you, scutaro.
you.
i hate you.
like hate.
John Lackey might pitch? John Lackey might pitch? We are destroyed.
Strike one Jacoby.
“Come on Jake, get on the base any way you can, kid,” Remy said.
I said that. I did.
like paragraphs ago.
it is 1:33. we are unhappy all we are.
Tito. Fix it. Fix it marvelously. two and two. that’s the balls and the strikes. That we don’t hit. But we will hit them soon. Foul. hurts ellsbury. hurts. hit him in shin. ouch it was. ouch. shutup remy and let us concentrate with the winning.
it is starting to rain in fenway. rainnnnnnnn.
maybe there will be another rain delay and i can sleep and then i could wake up and watch the rest while i get ready for work.
lackey is making his way to the pen. ohnos.
rain. ellsbury ball four. lead runner on. maybe three more will walk. and then we will win. for america. dustin pedroia. he is one for five tonight. sleep. dustin pedroia. do this. strike one. no. that is not this. a hit is this. Now Aceves is banging on things in the dugout. grounds foul into royals dugout. do that into the green monster, dustin, please. right field. caught. out. damn. gonzalez. please do. hit. it. to right field and it went off glove!!!! ellsbury to third!!!!!!!!!!! agonz is the hero! second hit. winning run at third? please. only one out. gonz at first. ells at third. jacoby is fast, he is. yes. pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease with the home. and the score. Navarro. You could win it all. You can buy our love. But you will never start at third. That is for Youkilis. chanting. let’s go red sox. chanting. ohnostress. come on. please. please. please. please. navarro. please. so long. 1:40. pops up. foul ground caught. damn. out. two outs. navarro. go sit with scut. go. ortiz. ortiz up. will they pitch? they should pitch. yes. they should. i don’t care. as long as we get to a base and not out. i do not care. papi. ortiz to second. out? out? out? no. no. out.
14. why?sleep. must gotosleep. nomore. no. more.
ohno. ohno. 14 is upon us. and randy williams is here. for 14. john lackey is in the pen. not warming up. But certainly looking at things. i am looking at things too and just as useful. eric hosmer. bah. i do not know you but we will never be friends. damn. fair ball. he gets to second. whyareyoudoingthistous? ohno. if you were going to lose, couldn’t you lose in a timely fashion? that is what the polite team would do, tito.  francoer.  another base hit. stop runner at third. stop him. yes. damn. first and third. nobody out. randy i will remember this. ohno. this will not be the end. no. switchemup. find a new pitcher. and check on youkilis. do we hae any more pitchers? make one. because this guy is a saboteur. afsjklaadfjkldfjklsadjkldfsajlkdfajlskdjafljkdfasljkdfsljkadfljkdflajkdfadfjklafjkls no.
no.
score. they lead us. they lead us alllll
ladfjkljdkfljadkdajkf
nooooooooo
whyareyoudoingthisrandy?isthisonpurpose?
afjlfadjkaljkflkjgjjlgk
ajkl
kf
k
blah. it is just a game. a game it is. no. another base hit. another base hit. because we can’t catch. scut, i know that was you. first and third. and failure for scut. and it is two to one, kansas. and we are angry, yes we are. but not angry enough, apparently. curt is talking to randy. and doing a jog. but not pulling him. pull him. no one cares about his feelings. i don’t care about his feelings. take him out. i am a hater of this.
1:50. that is in the am. and randy is still thinking he can pitchbuthecannot. alas. for the fails. ohno. yes boo them. boo them all. this is a terribleterriblenogoodickysmelly game. catch it, ellsbury. he does. no. 3-1. because of the fails. we’ve got a cruel case of the fails. we caught it from scutaro. no. out ends inning. but it is failed. three to one. and it is 14 and two in the morningandmakingnosense and with the publicness of the making the no of sense. it is scutaro’s fail to blame. scutaro. i am to sleep now.
Strike one to Crawford. Of course. Because he does not want to be my friend. My great love is not to be reciprocated. Strikes out. Of course he does. Of course. We were going to share secrets and stuff. But whatever. Scutaro. Josh Reddick. Hi. Could you score a homerun? Thank you.
How about just getting on a base. And staying there this time. No matter what Scut does. I liked Scut better than Lowrie. Remember that?
It’s a lot like Hamlet, this game.
Double for Reddick.
But they all die at the end of Hamlet anyway. Even when they score.
Tired. onefiftyseven is the time. Jarrod Saltalamacchiariffic is at the plate. Could you get a homerun? Thanks. I don’t care anymore. Yes I do. No I don’t. Failure. foul. bouncy foul.
the red sox are taking a bazillion hours of my life and adding a bazillion wrinkles to my eyes. strike out.
of course.
scutaro. damn it. i don’t want to see you.
i will close my eyes like this. you can’t see me but my eyes are closed. because i don’t want to see you, marco scutaro. one and one. redemption is a homerunandthatisit. two outs. scutaro. and a homerun might not be redemption because that would mean inning 15. strike three call. you strike out. and we lose in 14. and i am angry with you forever. willnotforgetthisday. hate.afdljkadfjksjlkdfajkadfs
sleep.
donotjudgemeforthisrant
thefails they hurt mybrain
scutarokajfffffffj
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