Once again, "it could be worse" proves to be the proverbial famous last words. I wrote that last night because even though the Sox had lost a frustrating game by a single run to a bad team (again, some more), at least we had not had to watch the "flower of our farm system" get his leg bent backwards.
The injury Cleveland catcher Carlos Santana suffered reminded me of Joe Theisman's famous gruesome injury at the hands of Lawrence Taylor, or of Willis McGehee's nasty leg-mangling in the Fiesta Bowl against Ohio State. At least we were not watching the few survivors of a trade deadline sell-off play out the string in the hopes of a youth revival, I reasoned, only to see the crown jewel of our prospects laid out in the dirt, writhing in agony.
Then I saw this:
And this:
And now this. Just when the others are coming back. Argh.
Admittedly I'm in a cranky mood already, baseball-wise, because while I was watching last night's demolition derby live and in high-definition, tonight I was reading elated Tweets saying the game had seen the best moment of the season with Mike Lowell's return and subsequent Monster shot, while I was far, far away from any remote chance of watching. Then, I heard Feisty Beckett made an appearance*. And where was I? Catatonically making a lengthy drive down I-95.
But...at least they won this time. And I can catch the highlights, then move on to hoping Ellsbury is actually going to be activated tomorrow, so maybe we can finally stop the insanity over his injury saga. At this point I care less about who's right or wrong than I care about the whole thing being over.
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* Tonight's Beckett and Youkilis storylines came together in heartstring-tugging fashion as the dust settled on the shouting match. In the dugout, Youk patted Beckett on the belly with his bandaged hand, shooing him back down the steps when his ejection was handed down from the umpires.
