*Image courtesy of bostonglobe.com*
10-1 in a rain shortened 7 innings.
7-3 in the night cap.
And all on Tito's 50th birthday.
Forget the fact I spent much of the first game wandering around the parking lot at work, holding my new Instinct skyward as a begged for a signal to catch up on the score. Thankfully my good friend Cyn was texting me updates as the game progressed 'cause otherwise I'd have been down at the local library begging for some free Internet access.
Even Rakes and Trto trying to disembowel each other after I got home did little to deter me from my primary mission, which was to watch DO and Remy call the game on NESN. Although I will own up to the fact that if they didn't cease and desist from trying to pants each other I was going to tie them to the back deck until it was time for bed.
Tomorrow is an off day, and as much as I hate to not have the Sox on my tv at night at least I'll get to keep up with "Hell's Kitchen" while I await the arrival of the MFY for a 3 game set this weekend.
Which reminds me; I need to stock up on Rolaids and buy that latest book on "How to control your irrational anger during a baseball game when your team is playing the Yankees".
Can I get it out of the way now and say Joe Girardi is a dink?
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