Wake’s 200 plight is like ‘Waiting for Godot,’ a live blog- Sox vs Blue Jays
Live bloggin’ this sucker at 7. So stay tuned! (For those of you who don’t know how this works- it’s quite easy. I watch the game. I blog. You watch the game. You comment. I respond. It’s like… um… watching the game together. But with screens in different states.)
Your facebook status BETTER read “200.”
Guys! Come on! Wake is like my grandfather. And grandfathers should always get a free pass!
I’m just happy his balls are still hitting home. Now. 30 minutes to game time. Time to get serious.
I really need to find a more willing Red Sox friend.
Waiting for Tim Wakefield’s 200 is really like “Waiting for Godot.”
You and I are like Vladimir and Estragon. Waiting tirelessly. Endlessly. For a shitty number. These boots just won’t come off! “Nothing to be done.”
Seriously. It’s just like that fricking picture. See how there’s no winning going on? But there is a hat? Nothing to be done, really. Think about it. Here are a few random Becketty quotes that are TOTALLY relevant to any recent Wake game. Pick one.
“Let’s go. Yes, let’s go. (They do not move).”
– Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
“Such is life.”
– Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
“Let us not waste our time in idle discourse! (Pause. Vehemently.) Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!” And they do nothing.
– Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
“We wait. We are bored. (He throws up his hand.) No, don’t protest, we are bored to death, there’s no denying it. Good. A diversion comes along and what do we do? We let it go to waste… In an instant all will vanish and we’ll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness!”
– Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
So, predictions. Think this will be the day? Or will we still be under that tree tomorrow?
I love literary references.
Literary references: Check. Couch. Check.
For those of you JUST jumping on the bandwagon, Tim Wakefield had his 199th victory July 24.
For those of you JUST investing in a calendar, that was over a month ago. Like 45 days. And he’s 45-years-old.
And he’s had plenty of opportunities. SIX, actually. or SEVEN.
But. No run support. AND, and this is a big AND, some mighty suckage- especially in the recent games.
I think the problem is that number. 200. That number is grating on our Wakefield and making him crazy.
So, let’s collectively lie to him, k? Pass it on to someone at Fenway. Sorry, Wake. Trouble with the math. You’re at 197. You can win one now.
Someone put a post-it note on the warm-up ball.
Do it for America, Wake.
14 runs on 20 hits yesterday.
Kevin Youkilis, everyone’s favorite, .263. 4 hits yesterday. By the way. In case you were wondering.
Brandon Morrow- run support has been lacking, announcer said. Somehow I think we can imagine.
Jacoby at bat. Riding an 11 game hit streak. 2 for 4 yesterday. “Career season,” announcer says.
“Ellsbury’s got some thunder in his bat,” announcer said.
Really? Because I just see a lot of swinging.
Into left field. Goes right through a blue jay. Gets to first. Lovely. Lovely.
Wake needs you, Pedroia. He needs you. And you don’t want to let Grandpa down. He’ll take you to the woodshed, yessir. Pedroia was 0 for 5 last night. But, according to the announcers, must have been leading the cheers.
These announcers are super nice. Why is that? It’s eery, right? They’re saying allllll these super nice things and- oh. They are Canadians.
Base hit to left field for Pedroia.
Hit Gonz on the foot. Bases loaded.
Wake, I’m sure, is jumping up and down.
Papi at the plate, 4 for 6 last night. I really like these announcers. They are quite informative.
Is this crowd golf clapping?
“The Red Sox are a very good team, especially with runners in scoring position,” announcer said.
Good, because when I see runners in scoring position, I think about how good we are at stranding runners in scoring position.
These announcers sure are making me feel better.
Ortiz. .377. “You know he’s driving in a lot of runs.”
Oh. Strike out.
Yuck. First out.
“There are a lot of good numbers for the Red Sox order,” announcer said.
Wow. He just made me feel better about the strike out.
THEY HIT MY YOUKILIS. Seriously?
“Just clipped him, barely,” announcer said.
Okay. Good. Barely, hmm?
“Didn’t even leave a mark,” announcer said.
1-0, thanks to the HBP.
Crawford at the plate. Swinnnngggg and a miss.
Strike. “A little late,” announcer said.
Two outs. “That’s why that hit batter hurts with the bases loaded, because you can do this,” announcer said.
Scutaro up. Strike. Strike.
“Boston, their hitters aren’t afraid to hit with two strikes,” announcer said.
I like this guy. Can we trade for him? You can have Heidi.
Then Boston will be like, we don’t have a female announcer! Yegads! Best get a cheap one from North Carolina…
Up the middle. Base hit. They get Youkie, but the Red Sox score two more runs. THREE run inning.
See, this is a great thing, because Wake tends to play games with little to no offense support. Therefore… 200? We may see you yet.
And Wake, the OLDEST player in MLB, steps up to the mound. First win in 1992 with the PIRATES. Jeb, pay attention.
200 career wins.
“It’s been awhile since he has had his last one.”
First pitch is a STRIKE.
Against Eric Thames, who is 0 for 3 against the Wakester.
Bouncing ball, flipped by Pedroia. One out. Bautista up.
Dmitri! Hi! I’ve missed you! Hope all’s well on the island.
Knuckleball is slow and hard to catch. Demonstrated by the lack of catching demonstrated just now which forced the throw to second that bounced all over the place.
Crapola. A walk for Bautista. At least it wasn’t a homerun.
Okay, Wake. You’ve got run support. You have that. All you’ve got to do is throw.
And… another ball. Edwin Encarnacion. I like your name. It is alliterative. Ball sneaks through legs of Salty AGAIN.
“It is a challenge to catch a knuckleball.”
That’s why JASON VARITEK usually plays with Wake.
And why we now have runners at third and second to contend with.
“That’s when Wakefield is at his best, when that ball is dancing like it is now,” announcer said. “I thought that was ball four. Obviously not the case.”
I am glad you are announcing and not umping.
Second out, thanks to Reddick. But Toronto makes it home.
3-1, Boston. Two outs.
And again. STRIKE OUT.
Step it up in 2, Wake.
Josh Reddick. Hit a homerun yesterday. Has earned my mother’s love. My mother, after every phone conversation, heads out with a “you really should marry that Josh Reddick guy instead of Kevin Youkilis.”
Reddick strikes out.
Jarrod Saltalamacchia- switching it up with his left.
Now we’re getting a history lesson on Salty. These announcers sure are thorough.
“They traded for Jason Varitek how many years ago? A young catcher with skills that hadn’t reached his full potential. Same thing with this guy.”
Oh, they just mentioned Derek Lowe. I bet my favorite DL fan is beaming.
Oh no. Crazy catch of crazy.
Runs for it. Dives for it. And we get the out. McCoy gets a youtube clip.
Jacoby up. The people immediately behind the plate are so boring. Golf clapping during a baeball game. I deserve their tickets.
Caught. 1, 2, 3 inning.
For the first time two Canadian players bat back to back in the Canadian lineup. First time? Whose fault is that?
Single into left field while Wake watches dumbfounded.
Clearly operation convince-Wake-it’s-not-game-200-so-the-pressure-won’t-deflate-his-balloon-of-confidence-like-a-busted-parade-snoopy was a failure.
No pressure, Wake. It’s just YOUR milestone.
No. JP whatever his name is has just set the franchise record for homeruns by a pitcher.
Whatever. Bye, bye, Godot.
I didn’t mean that. Keeping the faith. Keeping the- It’s 3-3? Seriously?
Come ON, Wake.
J.P. Arencibia. 21st home run this season, new franchise record for catchers.
The Canadians are booing the hell out of Gonz for tagging that guy at first just now. Hear that?
Two outs. Yunel Escobar is at bat. Blue Jays have difficult names.
Wakefield is off now. Totally. Look at him. He has his deflated-snoopy-balloon look.
Josh Reddick makes the catch and saves Wake. Kind of. 3-3. Really? Long game. Long, long, ugly, long road to 200. 200 or BUST.
S36! Yes! Yes! Now if you could all just move to North Carolina…
Gonz at the bat. Hit by a pitch in the first. And fouled OUT on a catch. Just now.
Okay. Remember who is pitching, guys. REMEMBER. We need you, Papi. We need you like Cruella De Vill needs puppy skins. Oops. I think the dog read that.
Out. Out. And that inning’s over.
Thanks, Tim Wakefield says, teeth gritted. Thanks.
HBP. So, one at first.
They’re already one up on our half of the inning.
Wake. Breathe. Seriously. Just take a breath. A little one.
And announcers, STOP TALKING ABOUT HOW KNUCKLEBALLS LIKE TO DANCE!
Jose Bautista. Fricking frick frick.
Fair ball. But BARELY. And a score. And Bautista stops at second. And Canada rejoices. And I throw a pillow. And 4-3 Toronto. And steam coming out of my ears. And Wake looking dejected. And snoopy-like.
There is no one out there. Way too much blue in a stadium.
And Salty can’t catch today.
And I left my bottle opener downstairs.
And it’s raining outside.
And I’m cold.
And beerless. I wonder if I can open this beer bottle with this pencil.
No. No, I cannot.
The Kelly kid is up and we only have one out and Wake is doing that slow, dejected, hat rim down thing that always precedes terrible, terrible failure.
So. Um. I have an off-topic question. Is cheerleading a sport? Because, as a former pom-pom toting flyer, I have no doubt it’s a sport. It’s athletic as hell. It requires strength, flexibility and badassishness- and there are more injuries in cheerleading than any other sport. Our sports director argued with me for an hour (busy day) about this. He says, no matter what the high school sports association people say, it’s not a sport because it has judges. I say the competition judges judge based on skill criteria- and it’s a sport, like gymnastics. He said gymnastics isn’t a sport. We had a severe, severe argument about this. What do you think? He said objectionable things aren’t sports. But look at some of these calls today. What’s the difference between an ump judging a questionable strike and a competition judge giving a combo jump points?
Now back to relevance. 4-3. Still. Two outs. Adam Loewen at bat. Wake looking like he’s tossing tennis balls at bottles at the fair for a gold fish. Not knuckleballs at a catcher to win a baseball game.
“Started out as a positions player… in the Pirates organization.”
HEAR THAT, JEB?
Scut throws. Doesn’t matter. Batista scores. Guy goes to third. I roll my eyes. Wake looks down. My puppy rolls over.
Crapmuffins. This wouldn’t happen if it were still game 199. 5 to fricking 3.
FDA! Youkilis is amazing and is immune to insults on this blog. You take that back. And girls can run just fine. I read a news article about a girl outrunning a mountain lion. I would just pass out.
Youkilis would eat it. He’d take that mountain lion and he’d–
Oh. Mountain lions are endangered, aren’t they? He’d shake its hand and invite it out to lunch.
I’m glad that inning is over.
I know, right? If we had this fricking 200th win out of the way, I bet we’d be winning right now, because Wake would be thinking about playing the fricking game.
Youkilis is batting, FDA! Youkilis is batting!
Youkilis is arguing that the ball was low. So I’m SURE it was low. Caught.
It’s okay, baby. We still love you. Um. I still love you. I just can’t quit you, baby.
Crawford hits it. Gets to second. Stumbles. But gets to second. Active leader of all players with triples. If he hadn’t stumbled…
But that’s a shoulda-woulda-coulda.
I mean, you know, we need compensation runs, but, whatever. Sure. Stop at second, Crawdad.
I am with you, FDA. That is the best idea I have ever heard. He should have played YESTERDAY. Hear that, Terry Francona? Anticipate better!!!
No. Don’t be done with baseball! Tim needs you! He neeeeeeeeeds you. The cupcake doesn’t need you. It’s not going to choke and miss its 200th milestone. Gymnastics is sooooooo a sport. I don’t care what my sports director says.
Cheerleading is too a sport. Why isn’t cheerleading a sport? It’s competitive. It’s hardcore. And it involves a lot of jumping. If gymnastics is a sport, so is cheering.
But then I exploded my knee and couldn’t cheer.
I could, however, yell loudly. That’s why I became a baseball cheerleader. Because I’m great with posterboard and sharpies and I yell like a loudspeaker.
Two on base, first and second. One out.
Reddick moves into second. Bases loaded.
Not to score, mind you. To make it more painful when we strand THREE.
So make frosting with the TV on.
You know what’s better than frosting? Josh Reddick. I kind of love that kid.
I mean, he’s no Kevin Youkilis…
I could go for some cream cheese icing. Super easy. Cream cheese. Powdered Sugar. Mix. Love.
Kevin Youkilis would love it. I mean, I bake all the time. You’d think that, knowing that (and he should. I totally referenced my baking prowess in a letter), he would have saved me from this state already. There are coyotes here. Did you KNOW that?
Strikes out Salty. Of course you did.
It is 5-4. Toronto.
High and deep… and GONE.
Jacoby Ellsbury! 3 run home run! 25th of the season!!!!!!
And THAT is why I love you. I love you like Patsy Cline loves sultry.
And I’m sure Tim Wakefield is rejoicing. My live feed went away!!!! What the frick, MLB?
Jacoby is not going to be a skankee. God and I had this conversation, see.
30 runs would be nice.
Feed comes back, and inning is over. Of fricking course.
I’d like 11. I think we could win with 11.
It would probably be 11-9.
Is it raining in Boston? It is pouring here. And I have these really high windows and a vaulted ceiling and it is quite scary in the toosoxy tower.
Crawford makes the catch. One OUT. Now we’re talking about Tim Wakefield history.
29 appearances this year. The “forgotten man” in the bull pen who always pulls through in “big games.” That’s true. And Blue Jays- not exactly a “big game.”
I have a laptop. I can take the Red Sox everywhere.
I think that’s the problem. He wants it. I think that’s why I have not won the lottery. Because I want it. If I were a truly humble person, I’d win allllll the time.
It is 8:29. This is going to be a long game. Yes. It. Is.
Gonz! Gonz! Gonz!
I’ve decided to use my brain time machine and go back to earlier this summer when I loved you.
Gonz! Gonz! Gonz!
What I DO like about you, Gonz, is your durability. You are always here. Swinging. Now if you would just learn to be consistent and RUN to the bases.
Strike out. Yeah. Stop that.
Hah. It won’t stop raining. I covered flooding all day yesterday and got a flat tire which may or may not be flat tire related.
HOME RUN FOR DAVID ORTIZZZZZ! Number 29 for the season. I LOVE that guy. 8-5. I mean, I’d like to have someone on a fricking base when you do that… but my love for you wells from my toes.
“Reports of his demise are dramatically premature,” announcer said.
Kevin Youkilis! Kevin Youkilis! Shhhhh, announcers! Stop talking about Papi. Kevin Youkilis is playing.
“He is probably the last true DH in the American League,” announcer says.
Because they are still talking about Papi. Despite Youkie having a FULL COUNT.
It’s okay, Youkie-poo. I am just watching you, baby.
Yeah, now you pay attention.
I love you and your goatee.
But Youkie’s on a base!
We’re saved! Um.
I had forgotten the Pirates gave us Tim Wakefield. That must be their purpose, the Pirates. To give us Wakefield. What a great meaning to your existence, Pittsburgh. It all makes sense now.
If I won $500 mill, I would get my friend Jeb to help me invest whatever I had leftover after my boat and my beach house. And my minstrel. I would have a minstrel. I’d give some to charity. And I would let really nice people borrow my minstrel. Can boats get the MLB network?
Crawford strikes about fifty thousand years after the ball goes in the glove. That was a terrible swing, Carl. Terrible.
A new race of dinosaurs lived and died during that swing.
As FDA will tell you all, Carl Crawford HATES getting hits when people are on base. But, because he loves me and appreciates Youkilis’ efforts, he took a walk just now. Thanks, Carl. And Youkilis. For your inspiration.
“He is in one of those zones right now,” announcer says. About SCUT. I am still shocked that there is a zone for Scut.
“When you’re in this type of zone, the ball looks as big as a television,” Announcer said.
Two outs. Because Scut’s zone struck a leak.
Reddick. Hi, Reddick and your .297.
JD Drew not even close to being ready to play, announcer said… sprained knuckle on his middle finger? Hmmm.
Middle finger, eh? I won’t comment. Nope…
Now they’re talking about Clay.
“He threw a little bit here earlier this afternoon,” announcer said. Then they show Clay wearing a weird cammo t-shirt. See that?
I hear Crawford boos. The Stanks were booing him like crazy. The blue jays booed him earlier.
He needs earplugs. NO FROSTING. Sugar kills.
I wish I lived in Boston. Then I could just go to a bar and make friends.
Jose Bautista at bat. One out. Bottom of 5. Wake knocks him in the back and shoots him to first. Fans are booing.
“But you never know where the knuckleball’s going to go,” announcer said. “He doesn’t have the command we’ve seen with that knuckleball.”
That’s because today’s game matters, see.
July 31, 1992. Gas cost 1.05. Oh, and Wake won his first game.
Gonz caught it for an out.
Tim Wakefield is the winningest active pitcher, they say.
Please win again. Some day.
Matt just sent me a link about another 200 in the news. EW. Jerk. Don’t read this.
Salty makes the out. Nice. OUT.
Johnny Damon was in your kitchen? Ickdoubleick!
Top of the 6th. Jacoby is going to hit another home run. You’ll see. They’ll all see.
A bigger idiot than Damon????? Take a picture, please, for when my newspaper takes me up on that “best of” section idea. You know. Best restaurant. Best bartender. Best idiot.
Ellsbury, never one to show off… decides to just go with a single. Okay.
Pedroia. I’m sorry the announcers are paying more attention to Jacoby than your batting.
Wow. That was a scary pitch. Almost clocked Dustin in the face.
Without a photo it’s not a story. My boss says that allllll the time.
Which is silly. Because so many stories don’t have photos. Like Shakespeare.
Jacoby is out. That’s like Shakespeare too. A tragedy. Like Hamlet. Failed, failed steal.
You could take a picture of a reflection of the idiot. That’s how they take pictures of Medusa.
FDA- I know, right? America already has tacos. Stop stealing, already.
My boss IS wrong.
Morales. Franklin Morales. Eh.
Okay. We’ve got 200. We’ve got it. Do you hear me, Franklin Morales? Don’t do this for me. Don’t do this for FDA. Do this for WAKE.
This is where we mess it up and make a 45-year-old man cry. I just feel it in my bones.
Wishes have consequences, FDA. Don’t you watch movies?
I agree. Reckless. And not cool and reckless like that time he stole home (remember that? Oh, memories). Just reckless. Let’s watch it again.
You think it’s going to get old and it just never, never does. Nope.
A drreeeeeaaaammmmmm is a wish… your heart makessssss…
Apparently my dog doesn’t like my singing. She went away again.
Adam Loewen has a weird face. Kind of like an animated shrimp.
Ew. He spat. I hate when they do that. Ew. Play, play, play. One out. Just one fricking out.
Hurry it the frick up. Bottom of the 6th, children. And 9 p.m. is sooooooo late for the overworked.
You wouldn’t know anything about being overworked, Morales. Don’t pretend.
You wouldn’t last ten seconds in my life. Whereas I could totally hit a batter just like you did. Just now. When you decided a person on first wasn’t good enough. And you wanted to put someone on first and second.
Come back, Morales! Come back! Is Lackey in the bull pen?
I am SO mad at you, Dan Wheeler. I refuse to speak to you. I refuse to speak about you. I am going to delete you from my brain. Which will be kind of neat, actually, when I see a ball hurling out of nowhere…
Wheeler’s 46th appearance was Monday.
YES, I KNOW THAT, ANNOUNCER.
No. You aren’t real, Wheeler. You’re not here. You’re not real.
J.P. Arenciblahblah. Awesome. Homerun guy.
Ohhhhhhh good. A ball. From something invisible on the mound.
You-who-shall-not-be-named-today, if you screw this up for Wakefield, so help me, I will take away more than your name. I will start a mean rumor about you and put it on the internet. I will call you Dan Whaler and your threshold for taking insults will be low because you will be tired from sucking and your lip will quiver and you will cry. You will CRY. And then Jason Varitek and Tim Wakefield will take you down in the locker room. DOWN. And then Kevin Youkilis will come visit me in North Carolina and we shall go to Grandfather Mountain and enjoy a happy day together and have a picnic with eggsalad sandwiches (but not the kind with celery) and cold beer and lovely conversation and…
right. DAN WHEELER.
DON’T YOU MESS THIS UP.
NO. Even if Tim Wakefield is in a walker, he HAS to be on our fricking roster. HAS TO BE. I think Tito is Timlining us.
Wheelerrrrrrrrrrrrr. Two outs. You just need one more. Because, see, it’s one, two three strikes, you’re out at the old ball game… I have an mp3 of that if you want to borrow that, Wheeler.
Why is there someone in your kitchen?
Crawford caught the ball. And I just caught my breath.
The game. Not you, Wheeler. You and I are NOT okay.
Jesse Litsch is pitching. He kind of looks like a cooler, Canadian Bobby Jenks.
I do not miss Bobby Jenks.
Do the extra z’s help?
Yikes. I think I’m putting you to sleep.
Or just stare at it. Sure. Swing with your mind. Okay. Just get to first. You might have to run.
You could imagine you are eating frosting. Like the lost boys did in “Hook” with Robin Williams.
See? You don’t even need a kitchen. This is for you, FDA.
You are welcome. That’s from Kev and I.
Papi on first. And we’ve got man on second. Annnnndddd presenting… everyone’s favorite… Kevin YOUKILIS!!!!! The crowd goes wild!
Wait.. are they booing? Are you booing MY man? Don’t make me fly to Canada. Um. In my mind.
I will haunt your dreams, Canadians, if you mess with MY husband.
An out at third. But no Youkilis. Because he’s wily. One out. top of 7th.
Robin could be acting. Maybe he is not a Yankees fan. He’s a good actor, after all. Unless you watch Patch Adams (don’t).
Crawford! Hit something. Um. Not that. Pop out.
Two down. Still 8 to fricking 5.
It’s a shame Canada is annoying us. I love Canada as a country. I wish their baseball team annoyed me less.
I’d probably have a harder time glaring if they were French Canadian. You know how I feel about the Frenchies. Erik Bedard! I really think I’m going to love him.
We will talk to each other in French and we will be the only two who understand. But then Youkilis will get jealous and compensate by taking me on more picnics.
Look at how there is NO ONE out there in the stands. Sad.
Scut strikes out. Because stranding people is fun!
We do it on purpose, FDA. It’s because, clearly, we’re trying to get a record for the most fan aneurysms in an hour.
I’m kind of worried about the strange idiot in your kitchen. Because I can’t rescue you. I am in North Carolina.
Living in Boston, do you ever see Kevin Youkilis at the grocery store? Because you can give him my e-mail address if you want. Tito too. Because I’d like to talk to him about his pitcher choices.
How scary- I think I’d feel better with LACKEY on the mound. Irrational, I know. But I am not a rational fan. Please don’t do this, Wheeler. Please. What part of PLEASEDIDYOUNOTGET? Safe?
I’d like to see a replay of that “double,” please.
“It’s not Daniel Bard time unless it’s September.”
Wakefield probably has no fingernails left.
And Tito probably has no sunflower seeds left.
Okay. Let’s wash the slate, k, Danny Boy? Let’s just take a breath and forget your horrible, horrible, horrible, miserable, no good, icky, ridiculous failure, okay? Let’s just focus on this moment. THIS moment. Tim Wakefield’s moment.
Okay. Gonz saved your ass, Wheeler. Okay.
A lot can happen in two outs, damnit.
D-Dub- you focus. You focus HARD. No. I don’t want to see you even LOOKING at the Canadians. FOCUS.
Why don’t they listen to us, FDA? You’d think they would have a social media guy. You know, in their marketing department. Like big companies. They have these people whose job it is to search blogs and search twitter. They’d see this blog. They’d see your comment. They’d see my utter disdain. And we would have Bard. And everything would be alright again. And then Kevin Youkilis and I could have our picnic.
TWO outs. 9:46 p.m. TWO outs. You just need one more. Don’t make me sing the song again.
You should shave, Wheeler. It might help with aeronautics or something. And hits it to left. And a base hit. And it’s now 8 to 6. EIGHT TO SIX. Tim Wakefield, I hope you are in the shower or something because your 45-year-old heart may not be able to handle this.
Dan Wheeler is out of the game. They DO listen!
“To-morrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of to-day?”
– Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
They go to the Cheesecake Factory? That is where I will live when I move to Boston some day. If only in my imagination. Youkilis looks like he likes cheesecake.
Daniel Bard. Hi.
Why can’t I run into Kevin Youkilis in North Carolina?! We have… um… barbecue. And. Um. Jam. And he needs those things! Everyone does (says the vegetarian). I need more beer.
And now we’re batting again in this insane, Beckettesque game. Samuel. Not Josh. Josh is broken.
Reddick is out.
“We are all born mad. Some remain so.”
– Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
Salty is out too.
Two outs, for those who have difficulty with the counting.
Close up on weird collared shirt guy in the audience. Is he important? Because we’re still watching him, and Jacoby is hitting.
And they dive for it. Crap.
AND THEY MISS IT!
And Jacoby is on second.
Where he will likely be stranded like the Minnow.
Jacoby, You would be the professor. Papi, YOU are the Skipper. Curt Young, YOU are Gilligan. And John Lackey, YOU are Ginger. Go.
Hi, Dustin Pedroia.
If I move to Boston, we shall go and eat cheesecake and we shall NOT leave until we see Gabe Kapler.
Pedroia!!!!! Don’t make me shift you to the Gilligan spot.
“But be a little more attentive, for pity’s sake, otherwise we’ll never get anywhere.”
Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
Hit by a pitch. DAN WHEELER, YOU DID THIS TO BARD.
Base hit. Headed for third. Frick. Frick. Frick.
Daniel Bard clearly caught a case of the Wheelies.
The Wake curse strikes again.
Um. FDA. Dear. Could you be more specific about WHO SHOULD SCORE THOSE TWO RUNS????
“One daren’t even laugh any more.”
Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
DANIEL BARD. IF that is your REAL name.
Maybe the reason the pitchers screw Wake over is jealousy. They are JEALOUS of the number 200.
If I can’t have it no one can, Bard says, laughing cruelly into his powerade.
Frosting WON’T help.
The bases are LOADED. You can’t leave now.
ZERO OUTS? Put Morales back in.
Frick. Walked him.
I hope this guy chokes on his chewing gum.
Crazy… crazy for feelin’ sooooooo blueeeeeeeeee
I am crazy for loving you, Red Sox.
CRAZY. I will die at thirty from an aneurysm. At this rate, I may not make it to 28. That rhymes. Huzzah.
[struggles to remove his boot and fails] Nothing to be done.
I’m beginning to come round to that opinion. All my life I’ve tried to put it from me, saying Vladimir, be reasonable, you haven’t yet tried everything. And I resumed the struggle.
~Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
What???? Strike… strike three? AN out? AN out? ONE out? Okay. Okay.
New dilemma. OUT OF BEER.
I am glad it is the 8th. That means we can… we can…
CybelleKate- hang in there. We’re in this together. We’re in this- OHMYFRICKINGGODDOTHISFASTERDANIELBARDORWEWILLALLDIE.
26 pitchesssssss. “Wilder than we have seen,” announcer said.
Well, there went another fingernail. Nothing left but the fingers.
Sit DOWN, Canada. Sit DOWN.
WALK? A WALK? ARE YOU EFFINGKIDDINGME?
AND JOSE BAUTISTA UP??????
Daniel Bard is BROKEN. BROKEN. FIX THIS, CURT YOUNG. FIX. THIS.
“…the light gleams an instant, then it’s night once more.”
~Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot
And Salty crowd surfs and does not catch it. And Bard does this depressing lip licking thing. Because he knows America is angry.
AMERICA. Not just me. Not just Wake. AMERICA.
They are booing you. CANADA is booing you. And back home, America is booing you.
DO SOMETHING, BARD. DO. SOMETHING.
Not. That. 8-8 game.
And Terry Francona is starting to skip to the mound.
YEAH, Tito. YEAH.
This is Tim Wakefield’s fault, you know. If he wasn’t at 200, this wouldn’t be happening. THIS. WOULD. NOT. BE. HAPPENING.
Someone do something. Anything. FDA, you’re closest. GO. RUN. THERE’S STILL TIME.
My puppy has now relocated to my closet. Am I that loud? I ask the internet, who does not hear me.
Tim Wakefield is now no longer the pitcher of record.
WHICH MEANS WE WILL HAVE TO DO THIS AGAIN FOR FRICKING 200.
No. Don’t leave me, FDA! Don’t leave me… No.
I don’t think I can do this again. Really. I’m sorry, Tim. I love you. I do. But…
Oh, Tim. I bet he’s having some colorful words with the baseball dirt right now.
Bases are STILL loaded. It’s 3-1. Albers sucks.
And Tim Wakefield doesn’t get a win.
And Albers sucks.
And FDA is running away. And CybelleKate and I are like shadows because of the pain.
And the hit. The hit.
And now it is 11-8. And we are undone. We are undone. And Samuel Beckett is laughing at the eery, eery, eery comparisons that just keep spitting off those bats.
DAMN YOU, 200.
Here. Distract yourself for thirty seconds.
And this inning just keeeeeeppppppppsssss trucking. Man on second AND a batter. AND a clueless Matt Albers. And two outs. And a full count. Which means we’ll get a walk. And load up the bases again. And spin the circle of failure.
Strike out? Strike out?
I can’t cheer. I can’t do anything, really, but type and watch Beckett clips on Youtube. Real ones. Depressingly absurd ones. Muppetless ones.
I am so sad.
Frank Francisco. Please suck. Please.
Not that it matters. Because 200 is dead. And we are all watching Beckett.
It is the top of the 9th, see. Zero outs. And 11 to fricking 8, Canada. And A-Gonz is at bat. I can’t watch.
A homer? A homerun? 11-9? A homer?
It’s not going to work guys. I won’t do this hope thing. It hurts.
Frick. And now Papi’s at bat. Which is one of those shining things you love to see.
Crap. There it is. That evil, cruel hope virus.
Base hit for Ortiz?
Hope… it’s trickling. Cruel, cruel hope.
Youkie? Youkie? Breaking ball.
Youkie. To third. He is out. He is out… It’s okay, baby. You get this inning’s free pass. I only had one…
Two outs to score TWO points.
TWO. It is 11-9.
Strike for Crawford.
Okay, Carl. Okay. It’s really cute, this oblivious attitude you’ve been sweeping the field with lately. We all think it’s cute. But today’s the day to strip it off like snake skin and earn that B.
Or strike out. Okay.
It is 11-9. It is 10:36. It is one out away from a COMPLETE wash.
Scut. It is up to you. We need TWO runs.
It is up to you.
Just SCOOOOOOOOT your way to first. Base hit. Base hit? base hit!
You cruel mistress.
Okay. Scut is at second. He is at second. And Papi scored. And we need ONE more. ONE more. Okay. Scut is now at first. WHATEVER.
And Josh Reddick is at the plate.
It is two strikes in. One strike left, Josh. Please don’t make me yell at my computer screen. B
Scut tried to…
Out at second?
WHY WOULD YOU STEAL WHEN WE HAVE ONE OUT AND…
I do… not…
I am sad.
I cannot talk about this right now. I need… Um. Something.
Why would you give me…
I am so sorry Tim.
I am soooooo sorry.
I don’t think it’s going to happen for us, darling.
This curse. We can’t…
Is this my fault for believing in 200?
This is EVERYONE’s fault. I need sleep. But not before a tear drenched pillow dance with Annie Lennox.
At least we’re in it together.
This is YOUR fault, Jeb. YOU and your PIRATES. You just haaaaaaaddddddd to create Tim Wakefield, didn’t you? And he just haaaaaaaddddd to have 200 wins, didn’t he? And we just haaaadddddddd to fall in love with him because he’s so great and personable and lovely and sweet and….
Let’s make our own sport, CybelleKate. And we will play in neat purple uniforms with tassels (I love tassels) and Dan Wheeler YOU ARE NOT INVITED.
I can’t sleep now. But I can pace. Yes. I will pace. The dog will love that.
This might have been the worst game in an ever.
I am going to create an interpretive dance to express the way I feel. I will call it HATE.
Now I have moved on to Fiona Apple. And Superchick. This is healthy. Is this what that guy meant when he said I was overdramatic?
Here’s an article about our failure.
Would second place be so bad?
CK- Yes. And Gold. I like gold. I am glad I do not have NESN. A pathetic montage of Wake losing over and over again might push me from Fiona Apple to Tori Amos. And then there’d be no stopping me and my angst.
Ooops… now it’s in my head.
I hope he’s listening to something. Anything. And not the sound of Tim Wakefield’s tears. Hitting the cold, cold lonely Canadian concrete as he cries into a gutter. With leaves. And rain muck. And cigarette butts. Alone, with the memory of that game that got away.
Oh! Oh! Oh! Another literary reference. Wait for it… Tim Wakefield is…
Wow. That video is weird. I don’t understand.
Here we go.
Um. Weird music.