*picture from the Boston Globe*
Woke up this morning with knots in my stomach and feeling really uneasy for some reason. Then it hit me: Wake is pitching today.
Don't get me wrong: I love me some knuckleball. It's just I start every game he pitches with a smile on my face and seeing batters wave helplessly at a ball going 65 mph, and end up at the end of the game with my head between my knees and praying.
Nothing works my nerves more during a Red Sox game than Wakefield heaving that thing like a medicine ball while Mirabelli stabs at it like someone trying to catch a butterfly. He can go 3 hitless innings and strike out 5, then, for some unexplained reason, can't hit the broadside of a barn for the next 3.
Thankfully, no drama this year on who'll be catching him: the brass made sure they re-signed Dougie during the off season. As good as Josh Bard has looked since being traded to San Diego, if you're gonna have Wake on the staff, you'd better have his wing man with him. Just like Forrest and Jenny, they go together like peas and carrots.
Game on at 2:10 est. Keep an eye out for Tex: she's roaming the Ballpark in Arlington as we speak, probably talking up some native in a cowboy hat.
I've got my Tum's and Maalox lined up like toy soldiers.
Let's get it on.
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
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