That’s about all I can say, honestly.
We attempted a grand liveblogging event, but Blogger decided to shit the bed around the fifth inning. Perhaps it was something of a mercy killing. Because the game really was that bad.
Essentially, we looked like a team that couldn’t piss standing up, let alone defend a world championship title. The Rays looked hungry, exuberant, albeit downright goofy in their bad mohawks and terribly-landscaped goatees. But where they could have hung their heads after Monday night’s schooling, they chose to hike up their skirts and kick our asses. Not once but twice.
Meanwhile, we looked lost, fatigued and grossly overmatched, with balls dropping between groups of players and routine plays turned tragic. In one of the biggest starts of the year–literally a battle for a share of first place–Shakey Wakey gave us only two and one-third innings. And that outfield combo of Ellsbury, Kotsay and Crisp is just killing us at the plate. To the point that I sometimes wish they’d go off and open a moped rental shop on the Vineyard and leave us to our own devices.
It’s a tough loss to take into an off-day. So if you need some diversions, feel free to visit the Surviving Grady fan page on Facebook, or check musician Desmond Reed’s fine set of tunes about each member of the Sox’ starting line-up.
And we encourage you to stock up on the booze. Because you’ll need it for the Sox-Rays ALCS.
