With the bases loaded and JD “Everybody Hurts. But Especially Me.” Drew at the plate, Ellsbury gets a little antsy on third. Without warning, he darts toward home while Old Man Pettitte goes into the wind-up.
Before we even know what’s hit us, Ellsbury has swiped home. “Holy f@#k!” echoes throughout the Nation as a million girls realize that their boyfriend isn’t quite cool enough.
Dustin Pedroia, who seems to love a good “f@#kin’ with the man,” indicates his approval of the theft.
As does Tito, who, after delivering two World Series titles in five seasons, still looks like he’s in the middle of a job interview during every game.
Mouth agape, Pettitte is briefly revisited by the ghost of that HEB Meats commercial he cut with Roger a few years ago.
Girardi, meanwhile, contemplates life behind “Register 6.”
“Well, coach, pretty much the only thing left to do to the Yankees at this point is give ’em all a wedgie on their way outta town.”
“Shhh. We got Timlin hiding out in their locker room for that very purpose.”
* * * * * * * * * * * *
What more can we say after a game like that? An exclamation point to a brilliant sweep of the 500 million dollar Yankees. The winning streak intact and now at ten games. A bullpen that currently leads the majors with a 2.38 ERA (watching Michael Bowden strike out Jeter in the top of the seventh was a thing of beauty). And the bats that I’d feared dormant back to life and giving ’em hell.
Tonight we roll… to Cleveland. Dare we think another win?
