Summer Mom-Blogging V.2.0
Am returning home on the bus from work, with sore, nearly sprained wrist. (If you wonder how in the world you can nearly sprain a wrist scooping ice cream, you're not alone.) Wonder idly if there's televised baseball tonight. Am told by Maternal Entity that there will actually be SOX on TV tonight, versus the Indians. Dance of Joy results.
For the first time, it is the Maternal Entity who's freaking out over David Wells in a first inning two out jam, and me who is calm. I feel especially superior. Even when he gives up a run. Because I am calm, and superior.
Buckethead SWINGS AND FLYS OUT ON THE GODDAMN FIRST PITCH. My new found calm superiority is gone.
Maternal Entity notices resemblance of Indian catcher Victor Martinez to Pedro, and wonders if he is related, as they are both Domincan. She then proceeds to order me to find out. Brief bickering over whether she can actually do that. Result: He is NOT Pedro's cousin.
Jay Payton is so good as to get a leadoff double. He is then stranded there. I restrain myself from throwing things. Poor JP.
Boomer manages a 1-2-3 inning. Much rejoicing.
Edgah whacks a leadoff double. There is universal prayer that we do not yet again waste said leadoff double. Papi seems to hear. Mannylito answers said prayer with a pretty pretty 3-run homer to left. Manny gets a cookie.
Boomer is seemingly jealous of Manny's cookie, as he proceeds to erase the homer and the 2 run lead with 3 ER of his own. Bad Boomer. Go sit in the corner.
The 8-9-1 guys continue the beating up of Sabathia. Bellhorn lays down some baserunning knowledge on our poor asses, sliding beautifullly around home plate to score a run and extend the inning.
Me: "Respect The BELL!"
Me: "What the hell was that?"
And then when I did again , she did it again. My mother is crazy, y'all.
Tek honors the Bell, by putting up a Game 6 style homer to center field. Just gets over the wall, originally thought a double, then ruled a homer. Go umps.
Myers in for Boomer. Almost immediately gets the grounder which should be the first out. It is, however, BOOTED by Bellhorn. Bellhorn then starts a double play on the next grounder. The Bell giveth, the Bell taketh away.
Myers seems to have caught Boomer's pathogical inability to get the third out. Timlin comes in, allows one runner to score, but gets the third out, finally.
Meanwhile, Jacobs Field has become filled with gnats. Leading to the following conversation:
Mom: "Look at the creatures in the bullpen."
Me: "What, Timlin and Foulke?"
Mom: *pause* "Nice comeback."
Me: "Thank you."
ESPN2 shows Johnny leaning with his head on Manny's shoulder. Awwwww.
Embree comes in. "Uh-oh." He does not prove me wrong, unfortunately, giving up a two-run homer to Travis Hafner, and making this game much to close for comfort at 9-7. Foulke comes in, and shows again his aversion to one run leads, giving up another homer, this time to Victor"Not Pedro's Cousin" Martinez. Then, and only then, comes the third out. Sox, 9-8.
Unfrozen Caveman Baseball Player hits a homer. There is much rejoicing. Manny hits a solid single, but gets thrown out by a mile trying to stretch it to a double, ending the inning. There is much gnashing of teeth, especially when Manny is shown smiling.
A walk and a couple singles have made it 10-9, and Foulkie continues unimpeded on his quest to drive me insane. My mother has one of the pillows pressed in front of her face. I have put a blanket over my head.
FINALLY: Johnny makes a running catch. The game ends.
Well, at least it wasn't boring...