Granted, the All-Star break usually leaves me light headed and disoriented being that I'm used to watching a Red Sox game every night and instead I end up watching batting practice that lasts 3 hours on Monday and an exhibition game that makes it seem like nobody wants to win, just get everybody on the roster in the game.
Yeah, World Series home field advantage is on the line. But if they took it seriously, don't you think Bruce Bochey would just leave Doc in the game until the 15th inning? I gotta admit; after the player introductions I'm flipping back and forth like my Pop during the OJ trial.
This year, Mother Nature has added to my addledness. Or something.
It was a balmy 102 degrees today and with the heat index, El Nino, and Rakes with a gnarly case of swimmers ear it seemed like it was about 400. At one point this evening I took the trash out to the garage and after 30 seconds I could have sworn I saw Johnny Pesky sitting on top of my garbage can asking me if Dom, Teddy, and Bobby could come out and play.
Gonzo did hit a wicked bomb during the game, so that was nice.
Can it be Friday yet?
Surrender the Farmhouse Sink
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