Not gonna give up the goods. Just a dirty flirt.
I can barely write rationally about this one. I just want to kick and scream and yell… and cry. They got me this time. They really got me. After Seanez came in (why would Francona use this worthless pile of organs?) and gave up a 2 run shot negating the good job Schilling did keeping it close, I thought I was removed enough. I thought I could step back and write a good old generic paragraph on the absent clutch hitting, a short essay on Schillings good but flawed performance and a symposium the various acids I would like to dunk Scott Kazmir in. NOPE!! The Red Sox have to make it interesting so I can have the glimmer of hope grow in my naive little mind.
“Lowell and Pena go back to back in the 9th? We can win this!”
Sure we can. Willie Harris steals second, the ball skips into the outfield and he’s at third. Tying run 90 feet away, one out, we got it. It’s so money. Go get ‘em… J.T. Snow? Well he didn’t get an out, but he DID get hit on the foot (if he MOVES a run scores) and takes first base. Then Youk looks at 3 pitches. All strikes.
LOOK. THREE. STRIKES.
Then my brain melted. I seem to remember Loretta feebly grounding out to end the game, but it’s all a haze of cursing and splinters of broken furniture so I can’t be sure.
It was all just a tease. The Sox got me back into the game just to break my heart (and chair). Now they take the long flight home and we are stuck thinking about what could have been. I want to yell some more but I am out of breath. And it doesn’t even get any easier now because the Great Pinstriped Menace has been spotted in the Boston area. Nothing caps off a losing road trip like the return of Johnny Damon. Oh, I’m not booing you John… I’m booing your love of money. Nice haircut…