Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Prognosis: Dislocated Suck

Admittedly, when you're throwing 82 mph fastballs down the middle to the dreadlocked wonder, there fuckin' better be something wrong with you physically, but isn't the timing on this more than a bit delicious? Mmm, mmm, sweet, sweet tears.

Not a game the Sox were supposed to win last night, which made it all the sweeter. And the savior was ol' pizza face, nemesis of the dream warriors (legitimately good sequel, this one, much some people fetishize the gay one), and, for a night, strikeout machine. 2.2 IP, 4 K, including 2 with the bases loaded of Lester's mess, and all hope of victory in the balance.

The starting pitching hasn't been sharp, but three in a row by any means is an opportunity to get the ship moving. As for Cleveland, it's been time for Betancourt to close for some time now, even if he hasn't been himself so far this year. Goodbye, Joe Borowski. The next close game we actually lose to Cleveland, I'm gonna miss you.

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