So I can’t decide if this Red Sox season feels like the 2005 season where they made the playoffs but had no chance of doing much, or the 2006 season where the infamous 5-game sweep wiped the Sox off my radar screen, leaving me to wonder about what kind of offense the Patriots could muster with Doug Gabriel as their #2 receiver. I mean, how much different is this season? Instead of Wade Miller and David Wells we have John Smoltz and Brad Penny. Instead of Kyle Snyder and Matt Clement we have Clay Buchholz and Junichi Tazawa. And this offense… if you want to call it an offense… leaves me with visions of Tony Graffanino and John Olerud and Adam Hyzdu dancing in my head. Any of these guys still available? So amid the John Smoltz Experiment and the David Ortiz Steroid Extravaganza (These are great band names, kids. Use them. Use them well.) there’s been some seriously sucktastic baseball.
And last night, OH GOD last night. Daniel Bard! Danny (Can I call you Danny? I have dreams where we meet and I call you Danny), how could you do this to me? After weeks and weeks of orgasmic pitching, effortless 99 mph fastballs, and sheer filth-nastiness, you let me down. Hard. In quite a big game. I know you’re going to be the closer for this team somewhere down the line, which is why I’ve already started sending countless letters to John Henry, petitioning him to make your entrance song “Best I Ever Had” by Drake. I can just see it, Danny. You fist-bump the tubby cop and run in from the pen, while the Fenway Faithful sways from side to side, singing “You’re the fuckin’ best! You’re the fuckin’ best!” like it’s Sweet Caroline. But no! JWH is probably feeding all my emails into a shredder this morning after your major hiccup last night. If I can’t trust you, Danny, who can I trust?
*sigh*
Well kids, this could be a very long rest of the season. Is all hope lost? Absolutely not. But it’s damn close. The Sox are back at Fenway tonight, and maybe some home cookin’ will restore my faith. If not… Patriots/Eagles, Thursday night.
Save me, Tommy. Save me.
(Can I call you Tommy? I have dreams where we meet and I call you Tommy…)
hzmls
Mass Hysteria Sports 