Final Score: Boston Red Sox 1, Tampa Bay Rays 3
I was casting about for ways to describe to you, in text, my feelings about this abortion of a game, something that might encapsulate the visceral disgust I felt at seeing the Sox create situation after situation where they might score, only to flub something, then flub something else, and find themselves retiring to the dugout with men left stranded on base, pleading for home. Hell, it got to the point where I didn't want them to put anymore men on base, because it just delayed the inevitable: would they fish or cut bait?
But you know what? You don't come up with new adjectives every day. You definitely don't come up with new ones that can add a new twist to the same old nightmare: no one hits when they should; the bullpen gives up runs when they shouldn't; underachievement and the hangover of a June swoon make the Sox about as ugly as the beer-goggled late-night bar trophy the morning after. Pretty hard to describe all of that again in detail without choking on some bile.
Instead, I had a flash of inspiration: you know that song New Level, by Pantera? For those not in the know: it's the sort of thing you play when you're trying to psych yourself up, because not only does it rock, but it's all about hitting a new high of confidence and self-empowerment as you do something. That song came into my head after this loss, because when you come right down to it, tonight the Sox hit a new anti-level, of lack of confidence and suckitude. So watch the video, and pretend they're saying the exact opposite of what they're saying in the song. Enjoy: