My Dominicans need to start hitting the ball instead of the other way around.
My non-Dominicans may carry on; specifically, Trot Nixon, who has been hustling his country-fried butt off in right field. Between Sunday's Game 2 catch (per Red: "holy crap, look what I found in my glove") to last night's sprawl after a short fly as if the object were to tackle rather than catch the ball, Trot is endearing himself more to me with every passing play.
And it's difficult to get more endeared to me than Christopher Trotman Nixon already is.
In fact, my deep, specific, personal love for each player is reaching mid-season form already. When Manny was beaned in the squash (what colorful garden language!), I found myself wanting to beat every member of the Oakland A's individually and severely. I'd give most of my earthly possessions just to give Trot Nixon one good congratulatory slap on the behind.
But by far the high point of yesterday's all-day country ass-whupping by the Red Sox on Oakland was Kevin Millar's first home run of the season, a great rainbow over the Monster.
If you can, listen to Jerry Trupiano's call of the home run. I heard it this morning (an equally excited Don Orsillo called it for me last night), and the only call that rivals that one for sheer goose-bump inducing power is Joe Castiglione's call of Bill Mueller's July 24 walk-off home run. "And there it is!" hollers Trupiano, voice gruff with emotion. "...and Kevin Millar has got to be breathing a huge sigh of relief as he rounds third base..."
Truth is, as we watched that ball arc off into the night, we were all breathing a sigh of relief for Kevin. When Trupiano hollered "and there it is!" he was speaking for all of us who'd held our breath--everyone knew what "it" was, what it meant. I personally was thinking of his long-awaited twins, Kashten and Kylie, and how it was the first home run of their lives--how an entire Nation stood then as their godparents, and their father launched a rocket to welcome them to the world.