What is it about having Tim Wakefield on the mound that makes the offense shut down? The only run, and the only bright spot of the night at plate, came from a Wily Mo long ball. The rest of the guys checked their bats at the door and cranked the suck-o-meter up a notch. Seriously, is this some sort of team prank? Did Wake make the rounds with all of the players’ wives? Shit.
Whatever it is, Bard is in on it. Four passed balls last night. And not all of them were the nasty knuckler. At least one was a belt-high pitch that inexplicably bounced off the top of Bard’s glove allowing runners to advance. Even mild-mannered Timmy was showing signs of frustration. Mercifully, this one turned into a blow-out or there would be legions of Sox fans heading to Cleveland with pillowcases full of doorknobs to teach Mr. Bard a hard lesson.
Today, we get the good Josh. As long as we don’t get into a plunk-fest (more likely this weekend with the D’Rays), I like our chances. The bats need to snap out of the funk (Byrd has an ERA of 9+), Tek needs to be behind the plate, and Beckett, Timlin, Foulke and Papelbon will take care of the rest.
After this, off to the baseball Hell of the Trop. Indoor Florida baseball, catwalks and Leatherlung. And a weekend sweep.
