"Hell may have no fury like a woman scorned but heaven hath no sweetness like a sports fan vindicated." - Samcat

Monday, July 16, 2007

Women and Children First...

(Photo by Kelly)

...because, you guys? We're all gonna die.

That man up there? The one who looks like he's sweating off the last vestiges of a three-day Red Bull and Jaeger bender undergone at the behest of Josh Beckett and some Northeastern coeds? The one who has convinced the Major League Baseball-watching public that "Kason" is a name and not a typo? The one who, you could swear made his name as a hornball with the hot mom in those American Pie movies? That man is your winning pitcher today. And it wasn't even close.

A complete game is nothing to sneeze at. Not even against the Royals. Especially since, on any given day, none of us really knows if the offense is going to decide to show up or if they're too busy playing cribbage and getting hammered on John Henry's private jet. (It has nothing to do with Mike Lowell not hitting. I just really wanted an excuse to link to that photo).

And since I've decided to approach the David Ortiz's leg-is-going-to-fall-off situation in the same way I approach overdue bills or cleaning out my refrigerator - ignore it and it will go away - I'm just really glad to see that Dustin Pedroia is continuing his elfin tear through opposing pitchers. Admitting in his postgame that the pitch " Probably looked up to you guys, but I'm short," just adds to Pedroia's legend. That dude can play baseball. To whit: Dennis Eckersley on the postgame: "See how far he hits this ball? Imagine if he was 6'5"? He would have hit that ball 600 feet." Hee. The Eck, nothing if not a fan of hyperbole.

So good on ya, Typo. And you as well, Dusty and the Big Boppers. Hee, what an excellent name for a 60's doo-wop band.