Okay. No need to panic.
We’ve been shut down two games in a row by the likes of the Devil Rays and the Mariners. But I’m okay with it. These are major league teams stocked with major league players, and these guys don’t suit up every day to go out and play Twister. They come to play baseball. And that’s what the oppostion has done the past couple games. No one’s gonna lay down because we’re the Boston Red Sox. We’re gonna have to make them lay down. Knock ’em down, in fact. Convince them that being prone, on the ground, is actually a good thing for them, and we shall unleash a mighty rain of home runs and sharp belts off the Monster to drive this point home.
Sure, the Sox have scored only 2 runs over the past 16 innings, but that’s fine. Because we’re going to right ourselves and the ship will be steered and Tito will sit the boys down and go all MacArthur on their sorry sacks (that’s Douglas MacArthur the war hero I’m referencing, by the way, not Billy MacArthur of MacArthur’s Sub Shoppe in Roslindale). And that’ll be enough to restore the fire, the passion, the urgency. As Papa Jack says, “Somebody got to pay!” Well, it’s time to dress up Wake and Schill and Petey as li’l toll collectors and send them into the visitor’s dugout, because it’s time to extract payment as they say. Well, as bankers say. Not us.
Yankees won too, huh? Well, the Angels lost. We’ll take that. But please, God, let us be closer than four games when we step off the bus into the chilly, ferocious air of Yankee Stadium on Friday night.
In the meantime, me, and the bottle, will be right here.
