"What can I do/Pictures of you still make me cry..."
With Josh Beckett and Clay Buchholz coming off the DL, the Sox will need to make room in the rotation. Short of tying John Lackey in a burlap sack and shipping him to Guam — something that I’m sure has been debated in the Fenway back offices — the likeliest guy to go to the pen will be Wakey.
It’s a shame, because I love the guy like Joanie loves Chachi, but, man, do I want to punch myself in the nuts when he takes the mound these days. He’s not just been bad, he’s been uber-bad, and that Deliverance-worthy shakedown at the hands of Texas last Thursday may have been the lowlight of this season.
If the Gods of Baseball are benevolent, Wake will go out there tonight, throw barrels of nasty at the Oakland A’s, tie them up in knots and get carried off the field by his teammates after tossing a full-nine shutout. And because he is truly an enigma wrapped inside a riddle protected by Kevin Youkilis’s enchanted jockstrap — a guy who has regularly follows up flat-out gruesome starts with flashes of Cy Young-esque brilliance — it could happen.
And I hope it does. For Wake. For me. For the Sox.
But mostly for Wake.
