Zen Pitching Master of Doom

Hey Atlanta Braves. You come in here? With your new ace, all cocky and "Oh we're leading the NL East."?

You think , "Hey, these Sox, they've been kicked around, they're down, we can come in here, TO THEIR HOUSE, and beat them around."

You may think that. But you think that without reckoning with something very important.



This?This here is Wade Miller. This is the face of an ass-kicking. This is the face you see smirking at you in the rear-view mirror of the truck that just run you over.

That roadtrip may have knocked us around a little. We may be down. But we are sure as hell not out.

Know why? 'Cause we're coming home. And if there's one thing that nothing can quell, that is the mojo of the Fenway crowd. Especially a Fenway crowd spiked with members of the motherfuckin' SG Message Board.. ( Which, by the grace of The Maternal Entity, will include me.)

Let me lay a little something on you, from that poet of the New England gridiron, the Tailback himself, Mr. Corey Motherfuckin' Dillon:

Not. In Our. House. NOT IN OUR HOUSE.