GAME 110: Oh, just shoot me, already.

GAME 110

Red Sox (Lester) at Yankees (Pettitte)

Before this series began, I was willing to accept a split. A sweep would be better, of course, but we really had no right to expect to beat the Yankees every single time all season. But, 3 games later, we are humiliated, with 3 straight losses and 27 straight innings (as of this moment) without a bleeping run.

Pettite, who it seems like I have been watching since high school, is dealing with the Red Sox quite effectively with his usual assortment of curves and high fastballs, and Jon Lester is throwing a bit harder, but just as effectively.

They interviewed Luis Tiant in the announcing booth, which was hard to understand, but pretty cool nonetheless. Tiant's father, Luis Tiant Sr., was a pitcher in the American Negro Leagues, and supposedly had a pickoff move so exotic he would strike out batters with it. Tiant's father got trapped in Communist Cuba while his son went on to fame in the major leagues. I've always felt a sort of kinship with Tiant, because, towards the end of his career, anyway, he threw a wide assortment of pitches at different arm angles and different speeds. That's the way I pitched, too, and coincidentally, the way I am living my life. I don't have the good fastball anymore, so the only way I get anyone out is with guile, changing speeds and moving the ball in and out.

The Red Sox are running out of time. They have had numerous opportunities to score, and within another inning or two, the Yankees are going to turn it over to their bullpen crew. I have the slightly sick feeling that one of their great hitters are going to hit a homer, and we're going to lose another stomach punch game.

And once again, Alex Rodriguez ruins my day. A homer over the Stanley sign in left center, 1-0 Yankees. But the Red Sox, with a sense of occasion, take the lead on a two run home run from our new friend VMart. Then, of course, the Red Sox, with the same sense of atmosphere that made Lon Chaney such a fun guy, send in Danny Ocean, who gives up back to back homers to Old Friend Judas Damon and Former Flirt Mark Teixeira. Then Okey Doke gives up a desperate, flailing 2 run single to center by Nick Swisher, and all is once again lost.

His Majesty Mariano the Great shuts us down, and the game, and the season, is lost.

I hate baseball, I hate the Red Sox, I hate ESPN, I hate sports, I hate Joe Morgan, and I really really really hate Johnny Damon.