Roy Oswalt might not be INTERESTED in us? Are we not pretty enough for you, Roy? Because I’m pretty enough for all of you.
So much news to report when you’re avoiding your own life-altering decisions! Now they’re saying Roy Oswalt has been made an offer. So, um, does this mean we could have the handy-dandy Oswalt-Jackson combo of badassery? Because I’m good at math see. And TWO is always better than ONE.
The Sox have made Oswalt an offer, according to CBS Sports’ Jon Heyman, but it’s reportedly unclear whether he’s interested in joining the team.
Seriously? YOU could be rejecting US? You realize that our management has rejected… um… almost everyone BUT you, right?
Wait… wait, wait… rejecting us for… Cincinnati???? Seriously?
See, this is kind of a big deal, Roy Oswalt. You could be… um… the ONLY big move we’ve made um… ALL OFFSEASON.
Reject us. Hah.
I’ll show you rejection. I’ll reject your rejection, you mess with me.
I’m going to wikipedia you. I’m going to wikipedia you hard, Roy Oswalt.
Oswalt is known as one of the faster workers in baseball in terms of time between pitches. Despite his small frame, he is one of baseball’s hardest hurlers, and frequently appears among the league leaders in innings pitched.
Oswalt throws four primary pitches. His fastball is consistently between 92 miles per hour (148 km/h) and 94 miles per hour (151 km/h), occasionally touching 95 miles per hour (153 km/h) to 97 miles per hour (156 km/h); he throws a high percentage of fastballs and is known to be very aggressive, at times throwing multiple fastballs in a row into the strike zone. He throws an overhand curveball at a speed of approximately 70 miles per hour (110 km/h) that is thrown with three fingers over the seams. Oswalt also throws a Vulcan changeup in the low 80s, which he added to his repertoire during the 2010 offseason, and a slider in the mid-80s.
What the frick is a Vulcan changeup?
You won a gold medal. That’s neat. Um. Okay.
Wikipedia, you seriously need to work on putting more personal information on baseball players on your website. How can I ridicule Oswalt into accepting our offer if I don’t know his character weaknesses and dating history????
Your pitching flaw, at least, is evident.
Oswalt is currently considered to be among the elite pitchers in the National League.
The NATIONAL League. Yeah. That kind of doesn’t count, Roy Oswalt. The ALE is a whole different ballgame. Esp now. Hmmm. I don’t blame you for the wide-eyed fear you probably feel. But you’ll like Boston, Roy. You really will. I mean, I’m not in Boston, a flaw with the city that haunts Kevin Youkilis to this day, but there are other neat things. Like bars. And your new teammates like beer, apparently, so you’ll never Happy Hour alone. Oh! And Boston is the setting of Cheers, like, the greatest show of all time. So you’ll always have Ted Danson. And you could jog along the Cape with a puppy and pretend you’re a Kennedy. See? So many great things about Boston. And there’s, apparently, a Cheesecake Factory. Oh, and maybe you’d get to meet Mitt Romney.
Now that I have swayed you, you should really call Benny C back asap. Before he goes bargain binning and gets like seven more mediocre versions of you. Because he’ll do it. Just ask Jed Lowrie.
And I know how difficult this is, Roy. I have a lucrative job offer on the table too. I get it. But, see, it doesn’t get any better than Boston. Just ask David Ortiz.
I say Happy Sweep Day and not Happy Wake day, because Wake Day happens in a few days. See, as of right now (not a few hours from now), Wake is TWO games away from 200 wins. So see, Soxies, today isn’t about us. It’s bigger than us. It’s bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. It’s bigger than KEVIN YOUKILIS.
“It doesn’t take much to see that the problems of three little people don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world.”
That is from Casablanca.
And me. Because I just said it.
See, Tim Wakefield is like Victor Laszlo, right? And Paris is like the year 2007. Which we’ll always have, see, and today isn’t about that. It isn’t about sweeping some Mariner dust (well, kind of). It’s about Wake’s milestone.
And that, you see, is a mixed metaphor.
It’s this failed literary device that some bloggers who are really tired and cranky because the rain took away day two of riverness use to distract from the fact that they have nothing clever to say. Really. Look that up.
1:35 can’t come soon enough.
I’m distracting myself with this game because one of my closest friends is moving to Ohio. And 3ish, 4ish, we’re all getting together for pizza bribes and moving. And I could really use the tardiness, see, so I can make the pizza and avoid the boxes. I’m too pretty, see, for heavy lifting.
Here. Tailgate to some Seattle dance moves. Alerted to this by one of my favorite newly discovered blogs, Red State Blue State.
Ramein noodles: Check. Beer. Check. It’s a party. 35 minute countdown! I will watch Cheers on Netflix. Yes.
Thunder. Lots of thunder. If my power goes out, I will cry.
I am really digging this internet MLB.tv thing. It comes with intro music. It’s quite dramatic.
1:30. “It is Maine Day here at Fenway Park.”
Really? Why? Those are huge lobsters. Lobsters are kind of scary, right? I mean, they look at you. I mean, I know they are dead and not reeeaallllyyy looking at you, but food isn’t supposed to have eyes. It’s also not supposed to be so difficult. I prefer to eat things that don’t require bibs and cracking tools.
Daniel Bard talking about his streak.
“I’m just out there trying to do the same thing every day.”
And Seattle is trying to avoid a club record of 15 losses in a row.
I kind of like Seattle. Their park is amazing. And Seattle is beautiful. And where I would like to live some day. I hope they don’t lose their next game, because they’re totally losing today’s game for Wake. That’s just how it is. It’s bigger than you and me, Seattle. Like in Casablanca. Take comfort in the truth that your loss serves a greater purpose.
It is interesting to me that this game is brought to us by a hot sauce. 1:35.
John Whattery? Swattery? Slattery? What? Who are you?
There goes the bullpen. Watch then prance across the field. I am really loving this MLB.tv. And the not working thing. I never get to see this part. It’s very dramatic, isn’t it? Like the beginning of some epic war movie. You know. Except in color.
Janice Bigos throwing out the first pitch. Puh-lease. I do not know who you are, but I am so much better at girly throwing than you are. I’ve had practice. I’ve juggled.
Tim Wakefield. Looking for career 199.
“Not particularly good numbers against the Mariners.” 4 and 10.
Ball one happened just as a thunderclap smacked into my house. Coincidence?
3 and 0? Okay. Tim, just breathe. 199 is really nothing, Timmy. Nothing. Thattaboy. Steeeerikeeee. <- I can’t really pull that off, can I? Foul makes it a full count. Wake grabs it. Throws to first. And batter, who I will dub “Musketeer,” is out.
It is really scary. See, my new house has this vaulted ceiling lined by windows. Neat for star gazing, terrifying in storms. I’m looking for Ms. Gulch, but I think the storm’s too much for her broom.
My dog is hiding in the bathroom again. It’s quite dramatic.
Seattle batter is kind of hot. I mean, except for the uniform. I wish he would turn around so he could be identified. Ackley. Hmmm. Hi, Ackley. Are you good in right field?
Just breathe, Wakey. Try not to be distracted by Ackley’s hotness. Oh no. Oh no. YES. Ellsbury makes a miracle pitch.
“We’ve talked so much about Jacoby Ellsbury’s defense but look at his offense,” announcer said.
Yes. Look at it.
Miguel Olivo. I like your last name. But I do not like your goatee. Have you met Bobby Jenks? You two would be great friends.
Yuck. Two run homerun.
I hate your name. It is stupid.
This rain is so scary. It sounds like my house is going to fall down.
Timmy. Darling. I get that you’re nervous about 199. I do. It’s adorable. Really, it is. And I get a kick out of your humility. But this is NOT THE TIME.
Curt, I hope you are watching. Because 199 or 199, if this continues, it’s time to switch it up. Off the wall. Almost another homerun. Are you WATCHING THIS, Curt?
Mike Carp. Aka: The Fish.
That was a dramatic out. Gunned down at the plate.
Dustin Pedroia batting second coming up, trying to extend his hitting streak. Rain like this makes one think it’s raining all over the world. I’m glad it’s not raining in Fenway. I don’t want this for you guys. If I drown, could somebody tell Youk I love him? But not FDA. I fear her Youk-prejudices would make horrible news even worse. You do it, Peter. Just tell Youk that I will always love him and to remember me every time he dances at the plate. Oh, and make sure he cries a lot. Thanks.
Michael Pineda. Pitches amidst a crazy, cracking, scary-as-hell thundercrack.
I love you, Jacoby. A double.
“Once again turns around an inside fastball…”
I’ve always loved you. Since you gave America tacos. I mean, I don’t eat Taco Bell, but I appreciated the gesture. Remember that time you stole home against Pettitte? Ahhhhhh.
Hi, Pedroia. Thanks for bouncing that wild pitch, Pineda, so Jacoby could steal third. Speaking of Pettitte… wouldn’t that be great? A home steal? Hi, Dustin Pedroia. He just laughed at that inside pitch. Did you see? Do it again. Oh, a Pedroia fan is holding a bright green posterboard Perdoia jersey. It is weird.
Pop out. But Jacoby is still at third. So I am okay.
Michael from Newburgh, ME, I could do sooooo much of a better job than you.
Gonz. Grounder to center. Jacoby scores. Adrian driving in his 81st run of the year! And taking first! I always did like the Muppet Babies. Not the Muppets. The cartoon ones. The puppet ones frightened me.
And now, my lovely husband. KEVIN YOUKILIS. Doing his sexy bat dance.
In the air. Deep left field. HOMERUN. By my husband. 3-2. See why he’s a 10? I remember the first day I saw you like it was yesterday. I was at Geno’s sports bar and my heart fluttered. I could tell you felt it too, Youkie-poo. And then it was only you, baby. After Nomah, I didn’t think I would love again. And then there was Johnny Damon. But I see now that was only a fling. You were the real thing, Youkie. The real thing.
David Ortiz. Comes to make Pineda cry. I kind of feel sorry for Pineda. Maybe it’s my Seattle sensitivities. But he looks so scared up there. I would be too. Especially with those sunglasses Ortiz is spouting. And Ortiz gets a single. It’s the sunglasses. Those are so badass.
They’re talking to Pineda now. Seriously, Seattle. Don’t be too mad at him. We’re just very good.
Carl Crawford. In the air to left. Gets some wall. We are killing that wall today. Double. Ortiz on third. Crawford on second. Poor wall. Poor Pineda.
Alas, there are greater forces at work than you, Pineda. You should really just go with it so we can all get out of here at a reasonable hour.
Josh Reddick. You get that everyone has done something but you? I am counting Pedroia, because of that wild pitch that launched a Jacoby steal. Every little bit helps. Like in recycling.
I really hate Pineda’s chin fuzz. I bet your mother tells you to shave it all the time. All. The. Time. You should listen to her, Pineda. She seems like a smart lady. Reddick strikes out.
That’s okay. See, that was for you, Pineda. Because you were feeling down. A pick-me-up so you don’t cry or something.
Saltalamacchia. Base hit. Two runs in! 5-2. What a nice inning. And he’s on first. Nice.
“And Saltalamacchia cleans it out.”
The announcers are not annoying me as much today.
Hi, Marco Scutaro.
And they’re talking about Tito’s 1,000th.
“You’re only as good as your horses and he’s had some very good horses in Boston,” announcer said.
715 wins in Boston. Joe Cronin had 1,071. We’ll get there.
“The sun is shining brightly today at Fenway Park.”
Really? Because I am in the middle of a rain-nado.
Inning over. But 5-2. Swell.
Kennedy. I remember you from the Angels. We are not friends.
Your black lipsticked cheeks cannot hide your evil Angel-ness. Strike out. Yes. Strike out.
Jack Cust. Out. See, this is a nice inning. THIS is what we want you to do, Wake. Now that we’re clear… Franklin Gutierrez. Ellsbury catches you. Top over. Yes. Do that again in the 3rd, Wake.
Announcer said it looked ominous but the weather has cleared. That’s because I summoned it here to protect you all. I am so sweet.
Hi, Jacoby. 2-2. That last one was really outside. Pineda’s sweating. Poor lil guy. I hope there’s an icecream sandwich with his name on it back in the pen.
He deserves it. He’s had a tough day.
Ellsbury strikes out.
On a slider.
It’s okay, because the Destroia is here to extend his hit streak. 416 average, leading the majoris in July, announcer says. Chop left side. Out. Blah. 2 down.
That was close.
Gonzo at the plate. Strike. Stop it, Gonz. Stop it. Homerun or bust.
Up the middle. A bust. An out.
Still 5-2. Third inning coming up.
Heidi Watney. Says Tito won his first 14 years ago.
Yeah. I think I should go blonde again. It may be the only way I can get your job, Heidi.
2 outs. But we weren’t paying attention. Because of Heidi. I promise you, America, when I am Heidi, I will never distract you from your game!!!
I will distract you during breaks! And I will never make you watch me eat strange things at ballparks. This I promise you, America. If elected, not only will I be an amazing blog, but I will have a scandalous affair with Kevin Youkilis that will entertain you all through tabloids, rumors and thinly veiled truth.
If you get tired of my rambling, my friend Peter is also blogging today. Click HERE to check it out.
Apparently the moose is the state animal of Maine. Moose are scary. Did you know they can be the size of pickup trucks? True story. I am terrified of Moose. Almost as terrified as I am of possums and slugs.
My Youkilis was “retired.” I don’t like that phrase. It makes me fear the time when you are no longer with me, Youkie.
David Ortiz. Hi, Papi. I named my puppy, Elliot-May-Precious-Ortiz after you. Don’t let me down. That’s a song, right? Don’t let me down…
Who is this Slattery guy? I know who Mike O’Malley is. He used to host GUTS. And GET THE PICTURE. You know. On Nickelodeon. And yeah, he’s on Glee and stuff. But remember GUTS? I so wanted to scale that rock. I remember being athletic. Kinda.
I had this weird dream that was kind of like Guts. Except it was in Charlotte. And I got some new job in television. And it was a 9 to 5. And I was crying I was so happy in my dream. Because that meant I could go out every night and actually meet people. Which was my problem when I worked the AM shift in tv in Charlotte. Yes, Heidi. I like your hair. It will be mine. Thoughts? Should I stay with red? Because Red Sox nation only seems to embrace blonde Heidi Watneys. And, like all Heidi Watneys, I just want to serve the nation.
Carl Crawford. Swings. Base hit to left field. First.
Nice. I am digging you Crawdad. No? Crafjord. No? Craw… You need a better nickname! Carlita?
He’s going to steal. I feel it in my bones.
Hi, Reddick. I wonder if you and Drew are friends in the dugout. I hope so. You look like you’d be a good friend. And Drew needs friends.
And Crawford steals. Teehee. Haha. The ball bounces out. From an out call to a safe call in half a second. I do love Carl Crawford. I really think I do. I think the trust is finally there. It took awhile, Crawford. Now tat you are in my Sox family, please do not make me regret giving you full citizenship.
Strike out. And Mike O’Malley (GUTS!) and this John Slathery? Slattery? Slappery? will be here after the break. To answer to all important question: WHO THE FRICK IS JOHN SLATTERY?
Oh. THIS is who John SLATTERY is. I have never seen Mad Men.
Mike O’Malley at least recognizes that no one cares what actors have to say. That’s nice.
Mike says he used to sneak into games. Oh, I like you, Guts man.
Reddick makes the grab. 2 outs.
John Slattery, with the exception of the hat, looks like he’s dressed for a golf game.
Picnic in the Park. I wish I could go to that. But it is not in North Carolina. Which is kind of prejudiced, if you ask me. But no one did. They never do.
And Kennedy is out. and it’s the second half. That is how you play baseball, my friends. And John Slattery.
Um. Peter. Um. Can you really get electrocuted with a computer mixed with a thunderstorm? Um.
“I’m very superstitious when it comes to the Red Sox,” O’Malley said.
Redsoxfoundation.org and you can bid on fun things. I was sold until they said stuff was going for 50k last year. That’s more than my seven dollars.
O’Malley has a kid named Declan? I dated a guy when worked at the Playhouse in Derry, Ireland named Declan. Ah, nostalgia.
Maco Scutaro. I am sorry I have been neglecting you. But that is no excuse for that strike.
Yeah, O’Malley and Slattery. Time to go. Go. Bye.
I do not want to see Slattery. I want to see Ted Danson. Or. Um. Someone else.
Poor Pineda. 70 pitches deep and digging, digging, digging.
Scut is thrown out.
Pineda is wearing this weird rope thing around his neck. I keep trying to get a good look at it. Can you tell what it is? Is it hemp? Or metal? I really can’t tell.
Ellsbury fouls it off. 2 and 2.
Stop talking about PICNIC IN THE PARK! I get it. It’s amazing. And I can’t go.
Out. Ends the inning. “And our conversation for now,” announcer says. Good. The convo ending. No tthe inning ending. Good.
2-5. 2:52. If you haven’t checked out Peter’s live blog, do it. Do it now.
“I can’t go on Glee because I can’t sing,” announcer said.
Great. Why don’t you go practice and leave us with game noises?
“Swing and a miss.”
Yes. You are supposed to say things like THAT. Not things about Glee.
Hi, Wake. I would feel more comfortable with another offensive push.
“They actually should replace you. For Charlie Sheen in ‘two and a half men.'”
NO ONE CARES.
“I’m going to boycott it. … I can’t watch the show without Charlie.”
Oh, good. I’ve been staying up at night to see how you feel about CBS, announcer.
I want to be an announcer. If you elect me your announcer, America, I promise never to talk about Charlie Sheen or John Slattery ever, ever, ever again.
J-Lester is back tomorrow! Yay.
One out. One on. Time to move it, T-Wake.
Crap. Grounds through to the right side. And Youk catches but not in time to keep that guy from third. It’s okay, Youkie. That wasn’t your fault. You can’t be expected to do everything.
This is the 5th inning. Pay attention, Curt Young. Pay attention.
Brendan Ryan’s facial hair looks ridiculous.
What a lovely tag. 2 outs. Brendan Ryan sends one to the wall. Scores that stupid third baseman. Two run ballgame.
See, Curt Young? See?
Crawford ends inning.
I’d like to see some hits, people. HITS. And you, Dustin Pedroia- time to extend the HIT STREAK. Which you can do by HITTING.
Jeff, Cheers really is my favorite show. That and Meet the Press. Oh, oh, oh! And that show. About that guy. With the cake shop in New Jersey. In Hoboken? With the cakes?
Some day I am going to own a television.
PEDROIA!!!! He is 0 for 3. This makes me sad.
Fix it. Fix it now.
Why are we we watching more Maine clips? Ice fishing looks horrible. I would rather eat lobster. Scary eyes and all. No. That’s not true. Maybe.
Yes. Off the glove! Gonzo. See, Dustin Pedroia? Like that.
Kevin Youkilis. Doing his bat dance. I do think with ink pens sometimes before interviews. You know. Just to feel.
Aaron Lafferty is warming up in the bullpen.
Gonz, you could have ran.
Show some initiative.
Hi, Youkie-bear. Did you see that? He winked through the computer at me. Tell me you saw that! He knows. He feels something in his heart of hearts. Or beard or something.
And another crazy pitch.
STOP TALKING ABOUT ICE FISHING, ANNOUNCERS. YOU ARE MAKING ME COLD. AND IRRITATED.
You are NOT JACK LONDON.
Hi, Youk. Don’t let them distract you with their ice talk.
Now they’re showing clips of a guy fly fishing.
There is no fishing in Baseball (sorry, Carp).
Walks on. The God of Walks. And my heart.
No thanks to YOU, ANNOUNCERS.
Which member of the Red Sox had his first career home run against the Mariners? I have no idea.
I’m surprised you stopped ice fish talking to even ask that trivia question.
I like Wings, too. Jeff, how do you feel about Wings?
It is still raining. I could drown. I hope my doors and windows don’t blow away.
Teehee. Loaded bases. Third base vacant. We skip there. I would be irate if I were a Seattle fan. David Ortiz is my hero. And my puppy-daddy. And so much fun.
Carl Crawford. Crawford to left! From third base comes Crawford. Youkie- comes in… 7-3! 7-3!
Thanks. See what happens when you people listen to me?
“Now we’re starting to see the real Crawford.”
About fricking time.
I love you, Kevin Youkilis. Mike Lowell who?
I want to be at Fenway sooooooo bad. Someone buy me a ticket and put me up at your house.
Reddick hits it off the wall. Nice. Ortiz scores. 8-3. Reddick, you make my heart smile.
So, Pedroia. Darling. You’re the only one not in the club. And you’re the one on streak. So you’ve got to get on this. Okay? Okay.
Jarrod Saltalamacchia steps up to inspire Pedroia. How nice.
That rain is loud. If it were louder (hint-hint), I wouldn’t be able to hear these announcers.
I’ve been in radio. It’s where I got my broadcast start. I know the merits and necessities of idle chatter. I get it. But to talk about ice fishing when you could be talking about how amazing Kevin Youkilis is? For shame. Aceves is making noise in the bullpen. And Salty base hits. Around comes … everyone. 10-3. Nice. Nice. Nice.
This pleases me, offense. Yesssssssss.
Now I am planning my clever moving outfit. What does one wear to fake help a friend move? I’m thinking cute handkerchief thing for hair, jeans, and “old” t-shirt that’s not really old, but kind of old. But looks old. And has the illusion of not being planned. I think my Pedroia All Star T-shirt with the paint stains will do the trick and still make me look adorable. This is important, my friends.
2 outs. Bottom of the 5th.
Now they are talking about being tv extras. AGAIN. SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP, announcers.
“He’s talking to himself. I have a tendency to do that.”
Oh good. Now they are talking about ice fishing again.
“It’s pretty sad that I do not have a hobby. I do not have a single hobby.”
Really? Because you’re good at the small talk, Jerry Remy. I figured irritating the masses was your hobby.
NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR FISHING.
Stop showing us fishing shots!!!!
“Sometimes it’s windy out there and you hate wind.”
I don’t care.
Is anyone else sending them psychic eyedaggers?
Wings (the food) freak me out, see. They’re too primal… the bone eating thing? Icky. It’s like lobster. It’s too much work and too messy and if it requires moisty naps I won’t eat it. I won’t.
And the inning is over. But the tv show… Antonio is my favorite. No. That’s not true. Lowell is my favorite. No. That’s not true. Fay. Yes. Fay is my favorite.
10-3. Wake on the mound. 3:24. Miguel Olivo. I don’t like you, Miguel Olivo. You are trying to keep MY Timmy from getting 200. It is your personal mission. Hateful. So my personal mission is to find something that rhymes or puns with your name.
Weird twist to that strike. Dare I say… Oliver Twist? No. That wasn’t punny enough.
I think I saw one Seattle fan in the crowd. Poor Seattle fan. You and Pinedo should really go for lobster when this is all over.
I think Pinedo will be free.
Ew. The batter just spit. Ew. America saw that, Olivo.
There is a wicked mustache. It’s a fan in a green shirt and you can see him from one of the camera angles. Look. It will be like our own blog version of “Where’s Waldo?”
Fly ball. Reddick “puts it away.”
Reddick pointed up. Probably to me. Hi, Reddick. I see you too.
Strike one to Justin Smoak.
Anyone who can help Jerry get a hobby tweet Heidi? When I am elected your Heidi Watney, America, I will NEVER make you do this.
Out. Two down.
Close up on lobster again.
They look sad. I mean, they’re dead. So they’re not happy.
Well, maybe. Perhaps they are in a better place.
That big ocean in the sky.
Stop talking about Jerry Remy’s hobbies, damnit!!!!
I’d rather see fishing clips.
2,000th in a Red Sox Uniform.
Oh, and Jeff? I’m like this sober. Really. It’s scary.
2,000 strikeouts. That’s amazing. Roger Clemens ahead of him. But Roger had… ahem… help, I hear.
Dustin Pedroia. Now would be a good time to continue your hitting streak, champ.
In the air. And off the scoreboard! Two second base! And he extends his hit streak to 21. Thanks, Dustin. Thanks.
Gonz. Hi. Through the right side! 11-3 as he pushes Dusty to a run.
23 multiple rbi games for the season…
“And the offensive beat goes on for the Red Sox this afternoon…”
Yes. Talk about that and not FISHING.
Hi, Youkilis. Shut up, announcers. I need to concentrate.
My concentration is vital now.
Remember when you caught a ball barehanded and scared me, Youkie?
He threw that DIRECTLY AT YOUK. Did you see that? Jerk.
I’ve got your number, Wright.
Hi, David Ortiz.
One and one.
I love your sunglasses.
Ball caught. Bat breaks. Whatever. David Ortiz give the bat to an old lady. I would fight you, old lady.
I mean. That’s nice of him.
Hi, Crawfish. Let’s see this power we’re starting to like. Starting to love. Starting to jump up and down about.
Crawford takes a ball outside. Two and two. “A very good return of the DL.” understatement.
Swing and a miss. Strike out. Ending the inning. Maintaining his humility. I get it.
One out. And now we’re talking about Dunkin’ Donuts. But this makes sense. They pay for it. The sport of fishing does not.
Josh Lueke warming up in the pen.
A hit. A single. But that’s okay. Because it is the top of the 7th. And it is 11-3. 91 pitches from Timmy. 91. 3 runs against him. But see, when the offense actually comes out to PLAY, it is all good. All of it. Most of it. ALl of it. Yes.
2 and 0. Outside. Okay, Curt Young. Pay attention, now.
To centerfield. Base hit. Okay, Curt Young. Let’s have a mound convo. Okay? Let’s do that.
B-12. Hah. Yeah. I’m sure it came in Flintstones form, Jeff.
Aceves in the bullpen. Warming up. This comforts me mightily. Mightily.
Hi, Tito. You are very clean shaven today. Ew. Tito spits. America watches. Ew.
This is not 1867. Civilized people don’t spit.
Base hit. Bases loaded on three straight hits. Okay. Ahem. Curt Young? Ahem…
Kevin Youkilis, Could you yell at Curt Young for me? Because I think he’s watching the cartoons in his head again.
99 pitches. Really. That’s admirable. But I’m ready for some Alfredo. NO.
Grand slam. GRAND SLAM. 11-7. SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU DON’T LISTEN TO ME?????
I can’t do this for you, Curt Young. I wish I could. Really. I wish I could take over your brain with my mind. But. Clearly. I. Can’t.
And Tito makes his way to the mound.
And Timmy is done for the day. See, if you had done that when I ASKED YOU TO, he could prance off and not do that downward head tilt thing.
I am angry. Not at you, Timmy. This is not YOUR fault. You pitched 7 innings. You are tired. And we know what happens when you are tired. WE KNOW. But apparently Curt Young needs to rewatch old tapes.
I am angry at Curt Young. He did this to you.
It’s okay, Timmy. It’s okay.
Jacoby makes the catch.
Do you mean what you said in the comments just now, FDA? Or are you just plotting against the great love I have for Youkilis? Because after what you said yesterday about Mike Lowell, I don’t know if I can trust you again. It will take time to rebuild.
11-7. Red Sox on top. Mid 7th. Commercial break.
I’m thinking ponytail. That looks very I’m-not-planning-my-moving-outfit.
It is still raining. Which really interferes with both my style and my enjoyment of baseball on my computer. Because I keep thinking about what Peter said about electrocution. He’s still blogging hard, by the way. Check it out here.
This is a long commercial break.
So. No more grand slams for Seattle. Okay? Okay. That does not mean, however, that you can’t work toward that, Soxies. Josh Reddick. With cool sunglasses. I wonder if Reddick and Ortiz went sunglasses shopping together.
One and two. Come on, Reddick. If you get a single. And then two more batters get a single. And then a batter gets a homerun, that would be a grand slam. And a grand slam is not just a breakfast combination at Denny’s, after all.
My mom wants me to marry Josh Reddick. She tells me in text messages all the time.
A base hit. A single.
Excellent. This is in my plan.
Oh good. Heidi has hobby suggestions.
“Jerry already has a hobby. It’s playing air guitar.”
The top suggestion is knitting.
Yes. Knit. It’s hard to knit and talk, you know.
Seriously, if you elect me Heidi Watney, I wouldn’t do this to you.
Salty a base hit. See how they’re listening to me? Another single.
And then a grand slam. This is how it shall be. 4:01.
I mean, if you want to go out of sequence and just get the home run now, I’d be okay with that.
WHY ARE WE WATCHING CLIPS OF A GUY READING BY THE BEACH? Seriously.
YES! Drops in short left. From third comes Reddick. 12-7. Yes.
I mean, it’s not a grand slam. But I will forgive you. This once.
Hi, Dustin Pedroia. If you get a single. You will load the bases, see. And THEN, oh then, Gonz can make a grand slam dream of mine come true.
So please? Thanks.
One out. Bottom of 7. And he hits it. For a double play. Oh. Not a double play. Good. Dustin!?
It’s because I implied that Gonz should take the grand slam, isn’t it? It’s not that you COULDN’T, Pedroia. It’s the way the lineup works out. It’s nothing personal. See what happens when you take what I say personally?
Gonz. At the plate. Ground to first base. Inning over.
It is still raining. Make it stop. Thanks.
Top of the 8th. Crawford. Who seems to like hitting today.
I may just give him an MVP for today. And Youkilis. Because Youkilis was amazing.
Justin Smoak. We meet again.
Swing and a miss. And a pretty swing and a miss. Alfredo, when I like you, I like you a lot.
0 and 2. Come on, Alfredo. I’ll eat your pasta again if you do this for me.
Ground. Pedroia. First. Out. Nice.
Do it again! Do it again! Mike Carp. Wake’s 2,000th strike out in a Sox uniform. Your turn, Alfredo. Strike one. Nice job, Fish.
Now the announcers are talking about Yoga. Because that’s relevant. <- Sarcasm.
Now he’s talking about yoga in the heat and trying it. No one wants to see you in the downward dog position, Jerry. I speak for America.
A single for Carp. Great. Fish on first.
We were going to be perfect. Remember? Could you aim your next wild pitch at the announcers? Thanks.
Crawford has cool sunglasses too. See? They must have gone on a shopping trip. Without me. And I LOVE shopping. Not. Fair.
strike out. good.
My last update sounds so very caveman. But I’m trying on moving outfits, you see. I’m ever so busy. Can I pull off overalls?
Brandon League. the Closer?
What is on the back of your neck, kid? Did you guys see that? Look at the back of his neck and please tell me what that is. Navarro at bat.
Kyle Weilland in the pen.
An All-Star, they say.
I think it stopped raining.
I hate to do this in the bottom of the 8. But I have to walk my dog while there is a break in the clouds. Peter is in charge. Behave yourselves and check his blog over the next ten for updates. 12-7. Sox. Bottom of 8th. One out.
top of the 9th. Still 12-7. Didn’t miss much…
Pedroia gets the ground. Fires to first. First out.
Two outs left, guys.
Scut shoots it to first.
One more, kiddies.
“It can be the most beautiful ocean in the world and I will not go in. I will go in the pool.”~Jerry Remy.
There is something wrong with you, Jerry Remy.
Alfredo Aceves stares ’em down. Another strike. 2 and 2.
One more, baby.
Ball three? Stop it.
Come on, Ackley.
Oh, it’s Ackley.
The hot one.
I’ll be your consolation prize.
I didn’t mean it, Youk.
Left field… off the score boar???? Gut scores? 12-8? Really?
“You’ve got to like what you see from Ackley.”
No. No, Lauren. Stop it. He is your enemy.
We could be like Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending, Dustin Ackley.
No. Stop it.
You are taken. Kevin Youkilis is right there.
Hi, Miguel Olivo. Could you end this inning for me? Thanks.
2 strikes. Let’s wrap it up. Foul.
In the air. Left. Crawforddddd makes the catch! Red Sox wins.
15 consec losses to Seattle.
I’ll root for you. You know. Tomorrow.
“A tremendous offensive day.”
As you can see, Elliot-May-Precious-Ortiz is not as impressed as I am with today’s Sox game.
Thanks for playing, kids!