Dr. Red Sox and Mr. Hyde
Well, that was a pair of games to give you whiplash.
Monday, everything seemed to go right. While Millwood had the lineup pretty much solved for the first three innings, it didn't matter. Schill was holding up his end of the bargain, looking the best that I have seen him look in a year. He was doing what an ace was supposed to do, playing the guy holding the barbarians back with a fruit knife while the rest of the battalion suits up.
And suit up they did. I could seriously watch an entire game of Coco Crisp scoring from first. He runs so pretty. And his mate at the top of the order ain't bad either. Though I had a soft spot for Edgar last year, more than other people did, I have to admit it's so nice to see our number two hitter battle through at-bats again. NewMark is smart, tough, and wily at the plate, and is definitely doing his damnedest to escape the shadows of the Bell and the Graffer. I think he shall succeed, verily.
Papi......I was heading out to rehearsal at the beginning of the fifth, listening to the game, and stopped to button my coat. I heard a crack over the radio and the tell-tale excitement in Castig's voice, and I just knew. David Ortiz is one of the few people in existence who can make me whoop and do an actual honest to God happy dance in the middle of the Quincy Courtyard. ( God, I missed baseball.)
I did not miss what last night's game brought with it, though that's part of baseball too. To paraphrase Aaron Sorkin, "In baseball, oftentimes, other people win." Which is bloody annoying, But last night, it was not just that they lost, it was how they lost. If Monday was clicking on all cylinders, than Tuesday was the car blowing up in a fiery wreck. Nothing was "on" last night, with the possible exception of Coco. Wake just did not have it. When that happens , Katy bar the door, because there is rarely a middle ground with knuckleballers, it's all or nothing.
And while I was loath to say so last night, it was poor Josh Bard's bad luck that Wake's firestorm of suck coincided with his first start. I have faith, or at least have optimism, that the PB number will go down, and Bard will improve. However, I can't resist one little bit of snark... DOUG MIRABELLI WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED HOW MANY OUTS THERE WERE.
(It's seriously the little things, people.)
So, given the extremes demonstrated over the first two games, I have no idea what to expect tonight. With Becks taking the ball, I have hope the pitching will be substantially better, and the offense less futile. Really, I'd just be satisfied with a happy medium. I am patient. ( Well not really. But the excitement of having Beckett out there for the first time is a nice sedative.)
****
Even in Cincinnati, The All Powerful Vegetable Mojo Lives on.
Hell yeah.
Monday, everything seemed to go right. While Millwood had the lineup pretty much solved for the first three innings, it didn't matter. Schill was holding up his end of the bargain, looking the best that I have seen him look in a year. He was doing what an ace was supposed to do, playing the guy holding the barbarians back with a fruit knife while the rest of the battalion suits up.
And suit up they did. I could seriously watch an entire game of Coco Crisp scoring from first. He runs so pretty. And his mate at the top of the order ain't bad either. Though I had a soft spot for Edgar last year, more than other people did, I have to admit it's so nice to see our number two hitter battle through at-bats again. NewMark is smart, tough, and wily at the plate, and is definitely doing his damnedest to escape the shadows of the Bell and the Graffer. I think he shall succeed, verily.
Papi......I was heading out to rehearsal at the beginning of the fifth, listening to the game, and stopped to button my coat. I heard a crack over the radio and the tell-tale excitement in Castig's voice, and I just knew. David Ortiz is one of the few people in existence who can make me whoop and do an actual honest to God happy dance in the middle of the Quincy Courtyard. ( God, I missed baseball.)
I did not miss what last night's game brought with it, though that's part of baseball too. To paraphrase Aaron Sorkin, "In baseball, oftentimes, other people win." Which is bloody annoying, But last night, it was not just that they lost, it was how they lost. If Monday was clicking on all cylinders, than Tuesday was the car blowing up in a fiery wreck. Nothing was "on" last night, with the possible exception of Coco. Wake just did not have it. When that happens , Katy bar the door, because there is rarely a middle ground with knuckleballers, it's all or nothing.
And while I was loath to say so last night, it was poor Josh Bard's bad luck that Wake's firestorm of suck coincided with his first start. I have faith, or at least have optimism, that the PB number will go down, and Bard will improve. However, I can't resist one little bit of snark... DOUG MIRABELLI WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED HOW MANY OUTS THERE WERE.
(It's seriously the little things, people.)
So, given the extremes demonstrated over the first two games, I have no idea what to expect tonight. With Becks taking the ball, I have hope the pitching will be substantially better, and the offense less futile. Really, I'd just be satisfied with a happy medium. I am patient. ( Well not really. But the excitement of having Beckett out there for the first time is a nice sedative.)
****
Even in Cincinnati, The All Powerful Vegetable Mojo Lives on.
Hell yeah.
posted by Emma at 4:52 PM
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