My final plea
(Original photo from Yahoo! Sports)
Or maybe it should say, "Does not play well with others." Apparently.
Or "Does not follow directions."
I thought I was fairly clear. In the interest of me not taking abuse from my grandmother this weekend, the Red Sox were to win last night's game as well as tonight's series finale against the Rays. They had Tim Wakefield going last night. Tim Wakefield has beaten the Rays more than any other pitcher in the history of ever. (Stats skewed, of course when you consider that the longest-tenured
Devil Ray is Carl Crawford with a whopping five years of service. I have had stuff in my refrigerator longer). But still. And then you refuse to score runs for Wakefield. Again, some more.
Look, if I’ve warned you once, I’ve warned you a thousand times. So don’t come crying to me when Wake starts openly fashioning a Julio Lugo voodoo doll in the dugout out of sunflower seeds and Big League Chew and the front office begins receiving suspicious packages with grainy Polaroids of Brandon Moss holding up today's Boston Globe with ransom notes demanding "Runs. Or the redhead gets it."
Now, can we please just win today's game so I can save some face this weekend and celebrate the Fourth the way it was intended? By drinking warm beer on a Super Bouncer in the middle of a lake in Maine while dodging firework detritus and remaining secure in the knowledge that my team didn't just get swept by a bunch of upstarts who play on a putt-putt course?