Another one of those games that has you wailing at the television like Nancy Kerrigan after Tonya Harding's beefy boyfriend suckered her with a crowbar: "Whyyyyyy....Whyyyyyyy....Whyyy meee???"
Derek Lowe is becoming known around my household as Derek F. Lowe. He pitched ok tonight, but that first inning had me putting claw marks into the upholstery. "Throw a strike, Derek," I'd tell him through gritted teeth. He'd promptly throw a ball. Or go me one better and give up a base hit.
Oh, and speaking of that first inning, my kingdom for a successfully turned double play.
One was turned--in fact, two were turned--later. Unfortunately the twin twin killings were performed by the Twins and not the Sox, which gives you a nice little numerological conundrum to ponder if you're a complete idiot like Bob Tewksbury, in which case you are not only content to think about that, but will mention it the moment the post-game broadcast starts.
Not that I'm bitter.
I hate the Red Sox right now. Oooh, God, I hate them so. much.
If you're out there in RSN, you know exactly this hatred. A good shrink will tell you it's really just internal frustration manifested outwards as resentment, or in the form of projectiles hucked at the televised image of Kevin Millar.
But I hate them. I really do. I hate their stupid pop-ups. I hate their stupid runners left on base. I hate the fact that behind Schilling, who comes with a guarantee of a two-run ERA per home game, they score nine runs, but behind Lowe, who is the most bitch-slappable athlete I've ever seen, by the way, they score a measly, lousy, stupid two.
Two. Two double plays. Two runs. It was the night of Twins.
Shut up, Tewksbury.
Oh, and just to add to our freakin' joy, Pokey Reese made a diving stop on a ground ball up the middle, and apparently caught all his body weight (which luckily is not all that considerable) on his left thumb, and then proceeded to kind of grind it into the ground and twist it and fall on it and slide around on it for a while. Following the change of inning, Bellhorn took over at second base and Youkilis at third, and the three most frightening words a Red Sox fan could ever hear crossed the lips of Jerry Remy: