Sunday, August 12, 2007

Game 116: A Big Orange Tombstone

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 6, Baltimore Orioles 2

Maybe it twas my viewing choice AFTER the game... but to my eyes Beckett had a glimmer of Wyatt Eyarp in him today. A tall standing sonova’ bitch that won’t take any guff from some upstart bird wearing bastard. Oh the pain he inflicts with this 6-Shooter (fastball) and the ruffians he stares down. He stood 8 and two thirds strong before the ill flavor of the deeply hit double infected him with some sort of sickness. This same infliction carried to reliever Delcarmen before the fever was quelled by ‘ol Papelbon (maybe Doc Holliday?) in this endeavor. That’s right people.. 8 strong innings of Beckett... and hell was coming with him. But make no mistake. It’s not revenge he’s after... it’s a reckoning.

As for the bats? Well, they struck a mighty blow with thoughts of revenge and redemption after the horrors that were inflicted in Friday’s affair. The hate, still warm on their lips, spilled into the Saturday afternoon. The high sun cooked it till it was ready to boil over into the mouths of the waiting Baltimore pitching. Poor Olson, Shuey and Burres. Had they known what horrors were in store for them (6 runs counts as Red Sox horrors now) then they would have stayed home. Drew and Lugo lead the charge (hey this is sounding more like a fantasy every minute) and they were all that was needed with Beckett’s brilliance.

So it’s all tied up now. It’s over and done. Even Steven.... and you know what? I always hated ties. Come on Schilling, let’s win the series and go back home with some modicum of pride. Two out of three ain’t bad.