Monday, September 17, 2007

Game 150: I’m As Mad As I’ve Ever Been

Final Score: Boston Red Sox 3, New York Yankees 4

I’m gonna start out by saying I’m not very pleased with the powers that control the TV schedules. My remote is going to have the “previous channel” button worn off from flipping to the Patriots/Chargers game. Pitch, flip, snap, flip, pitch, flip. Yeah it got annoying, but what other option did I have?

Luckily the Pats were DOMINATING and they didn’t get much air time on my TV. I guess I can call that the silver lining of the night. Pats won… woo freaking hoo.

The problem is that I can barely concentrate on football. I really can’t focus on anything till after October. My mind is totally filled with baseball… and hate.

I’m a raging fireball of anger and rage. I want to burn the world… to let everyone feel my disappointment with how things have gone tonight. To quote Fight Club: “I felt like putting a bullet between the eyes of every Panda that wouldn't screw to save its species. I wanted to open the dump valves on oil tankers and smother all the French beaches I'd never see. I wanted to breathe smoke.”

Schilling looked like his vintage self, but so did Clemens. The Sox defense was top notch, but the Yankees were amazing (especially Mientkiewicz). They matched each other pitch for pitch, hit for hit, play for play. It was a staring contest into the 8th inning.

The Sox blinked first.

With two on, Jeter hit a homer over the monster and into the deep, unforgiving night. That Jeter… his little smirk, his movie starlet dance card, his awful strut around the base path. I loath him. I want nothing but the worst for him. I want all bad things in life to fall right in his lap… while he’s on the toilet.

Oh how I wish this was the end of it. If Jeter just breaks my heart and the game calmly ends… so be it. I’m mad, but it’s just one bad day added to the bushel you get from becoming a Sox fan.

But it wasn’t that simple was it? I can’t just mope in peace. They need to tease me with the most painful of human emotions… hope.

Lowell responds to Jeter’s blast by taking the untouched Joba Chamberlain deep with a solo shot. Take that wunderkid. Popped your cherry but GOOD. Then in the 9th, Tek walks, Coco moves him over, and Lugo doubles him home. Like I said, hope. The evil mistress. My guard is down, my spirits soar and the bases are loaded. When Papi flew out to end it, I was caught unprepared.

Hate is such an ugly emotion and I may have scared people… some of my friends… some people who trust me… definitely my neighbors. I know I should take solace in the fact that the Yankees are still 4.5 games back, and maybe I will later this week or even tomorrow…but now? I’m just too damn mad.