Honestly, I thought we’d mop up the place with Jered Weaver. Thought we’d send him reeling back to his surfboards and Evanescence CDs (’cause you just know that twink’s got ’em in his locker). I never expected to see him leaving in the sixth, having given up only three, while Our Man Matsuzaka crumbled like a toll house cookie, surrendering five runs in the fifth before recording an out. I still maintain that we’ll hold an edge in October, when the Angels seem to turn to folding chairs the minute they reach Fenway’s green. But for now, we just take off our caps in respect and pray we get ’em tonight. And prayers we shall need with the 2-5 Buchholz against the 8-2 John Lackey.
Meanwhile, the Sox clearly need… something. A shot of adrenaline or an extra teaspoon of sugar on their Wheaties. Maybe it’s a major trade at the deadline to shake things up. Maybe it’s a drunken romp with a pack of German hookers. Maybe it’s a clubhouse screening of Hoosiers (yeah, yeah, it’s a hoops flick, but still), followed by an inspirational chat by Dennis Hopper in full Frank Booth mode. Whatever it takes to re-stoke the fires and gear them up for that August-to-September push.
